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SevenThirtyNine — Under the Waves
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Published: 2023-01-12 12:00:05 +0000 UTC; Views: 24353; Favourites: 18; Downloads: 3
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I panic. I have been plunged below the surface of a raging torrent of whitewater. My thinking is so idiotic, this is a class VI. In other words, it has never been run. I should have listened to the warnings, but no. In the constant pursuit to run new and increasingly dangerous rivers, I had to pick one trapped in a canyon with steep cliffs. Sure, I have run many rivers like this. Even waterfalls with massive drops. But this appears to be my final river. I look up at the surface above, trapped below the waves that create an impenetrable layer, the difference between life and the afterworld. ‘This must be what ghosts experience,’ I think to myself in a strange moment of clarity on the edge of the abyss. ‘I don’t want to go,’ I say as my lungs empty and my vision fades into the blue of the river.
I wake up in bed. Panting and sweating, “It was only a dream,” I reassure myself in a voice I have never heard before. In the dimly lit room, my eyes look at my hands, they aren’t mine. I then notice a thick mop of hair, some of which obstructs my eyesight. My hand moves it out of the way as I leave the warm bed in a numb relaxed state. I turn on the light and see a phone, once again; not mine. I pick it up and turn on the front facing camera. I go lightheaded and my temperature goes cold as I see the face of a teenage boy on the screen. A boy who looks nothing like me at that age, nor have I ever seen this kid. Not in all my world travels.
“Is everything okay?” asks a woman's voice through the door. I jump and shakily reply, “Yeah. A nightmare.”
“Okay,” she replies before her footsteps disappear.
“So am I this kid?” I ask myself under my breath, “Have I been reincarnated or something?” For about an hour, I think about it. I sigh and tell myself, “If I die tonight. I die.”
“Jensen. Wake up,” says the voice of the same woman from the night. My eyes open and I see an amazing view out of the bedroom window, one of the desert. I can’t quite tell where it is. By my rough estimation, it’s America or Australia. I am familiar with both countries, but seeing it like this is different.
“Hurry up. The bus leaves in an hour.”
“I’m up,” I reply as I step out of the bed and look down at my new body.
A bus trip later. A strange sense of déjà vu comes over me. This feels somehow familiar despite not knowing where I am. I follow the group with my ‘Mum and Dad’ down a hiking trail. We come across a river full of raging rapids and it hits me. This is the same river I supposedly drowned in. I look around and see yellow marks on the rocks. My kayak was yellow. Another wave of lightheadedness comes over me and I need to sit down. Thankfully, so do the rest of the group. Then my stomach churns as nausea briefly comes over me.
“Maybe one day you’ll paddle this river,” says my dad.
“Maybe,” I reply, confused. Not knowing if it’s just a coincidence or if he knows my true former identity.
