black history/futures: diving into the past

it's feb! that means it's black history/futures month. my goal is one flash fiction story every day. all stories from the month here.

inspiration: tara roberts’ slave wrecks project

i wish i knew why rubbing my eyes felt so good. i think it must be because i’m tired. or maybe it’s because my eyes were learning to acclimate to the deep sea saltwater i spent so much time in.

who knows.

i was sitting on the beach again, early morning as usual. the morning seasteam was still wafting back and forth as the waves sloshed around me and my rock. the sun hadn’t been up long enough to warm the rock so it was cold on my skin but i sat anyways. rubbing.

so. good.

at some point, i acknowledged to myself i was stalling. the pleasant sensation felt great but i knew i had to dive. it’s the whole reason i was out here every day.

since committing to this practice of deepsea diving, my breathwork had improved a ton, but getting started was still as tough as day one.

i stood up and raised my hands over my head, palms pressed together. i took my usual deep, belly breath and brought my hands, still pressed, down to the center of my sternum. as i pushed the fresh air from my lungs out through my blood and then skin, i felt the familiar sensation of the air immediately around my body warm.

i leaned forward and pushed off my rock into the ocean. the silent entry shocked the fish every time. holding my bubble taut, as i had been taught, i let gravity take over and pull me towards the sea bottom.

as i sank and sank, the water grew dark and sea creatures larger. today, they weren’t my focus. i was headed to the ship to sit.

the sunken slave ship was a dark figure in inky waters and today, i would sit on its splintered deck and pull what i could from its memories.

words / writing / post-processing
? / 10min / 3min