Day 6 | Thomas Sharpe [tw: sensation of drowning]
Nothing had been right about Derleth since the new week began. Thomas couldn't say exactly what was different about it, because on the opposite side of the locked floors very little had changed, but he had the innate sense that the world of the campus was entirely different for those on the outside. Most of the ghosts didn't notice. Or, perhaps more accurately, they didn't care. But Thomas had always kept a keen eye on the living — those who weren't constrained by the magical barrier — and he knew something had changed.
First it was the lack of balance. The world on the other side of the locked doors seemed to lose its equilibrium. There was a sway, back and forth, not always gentle, as though they were rolling over waves. It created some confusion among the more sensitive spirits. Ghosts didn't like change, after all. The inability to appreciate time moving on without them was a factor in why many of them were incapable of accepting their situation. And why, Thomas imagined, many of them would be unable to move on. If Derleth ever gave them the opportunity to do so.
Thomas tried to listen carefully during those first few days. He tried to hear familiar voices and get a sense of what was going on. But the door was different. The keyhole was darker, as though made of iron, and the world outside of their prison was enclosed in shadows. It wasn't until he heard Yennefer try and reach him at night that he understood why. They were in the belly of a ship. Like supplies trapped in barrels.
He knew then that this week would not end well.
And then the voices stopped. All of them. And the ship filled with water.
Chaos erupted among the ghosts. Some of them didn't realize they were dead. Many of them thought they were drowning. The cries that erupted from within the walls of the Derleth ship and behind the captain's quarters were filled with unearthly wails. Even Thomas felt a moment of nightmarish panic as the water rose and he swam up to the surface of the confined space, gasping for air he didn't need while the other spectres screamed around him, choking on gulps of water. They believed they were dying. And then they realized they were already dead. And for many the cycle continued.
He lost time after that. He'd always judged the passing of the days based on the whispers from the other side. But now there was nothing. Nothing but the vast echo of sea.
The Derleth was in shambles. He didn't know how he knew that, but he knew. Perhaps he was more closely tied to that place than he realized. Maybe it was because he was a part of its infrastructure. But he could have sworn that he felt the ship — the campus — shatter under the blow of cannon fire. Each splintering crack in its hull felt like a piece of himself breaking apart.
And then silence.
They were all quiet. Just as they had been when the monolith arrived.
Quiet ghosts were the most unnerving of them all. It meant they were thinking. Reflecting. Realizing that it was possible to experience something worse than death or life after death.
Emptiness. Solitude. Isolation. And an eternal loneliness at the bottom of the sea.
What if Derleth never left this place? What if this was the end of the line? What if they — neither the ghosts nor the people on the other side — ever returned to the Void? Thomas had seen a lot in his years. And he'd experienced more than a single lifetime ever could. He'd died and accepted his death. There were many things he could live with.
But death was nothing compared to being forgotten.