onwards, lads!

It was cool. Refreshing. Tickling every pore, he looked down at his chest to see the strands of hair that grew there, floating above, defying gravity. Though his atmosphere defied gravity by itself. His hands cut through it like butter knives. One after the other. The air was cool, when he rotated his head to his right to breathe, it hit him like a breath of fresh air. There was a trepidation building in his chest. The air was cool and fresh. Cold on his back. It glistened with drops of water like sweat as the sunlight glimmered off of them. The water was salty, burning his nose. His tongue lapped it up. His stomach grumbles. His shoulders moved today. But he felt that tomorrow they would be sore. Like that time he swam two hundred lengths as a birthday present to himself. Cold, glistening. Stinging like painful sores. Salt being poured into them. His eyes, they were open, and they did not burn. He could see all the glistening colors beneath him. The coral. The emerald. The reef stacked, one on top of the other. The fish swimming, unperturbed. Undisturbed. Unafraid of humans swimming above. They should be. This was the last spot left. Soon it would be. And then it would be their turn. He swam on. The sun beat down on him. The sky groaned and mumbled. Complaining. Whining. Thunder sang it's ballad. It began to rain, the pregnant clouds giving birth to a rain that was strong and dangerous. Still he swam onwards. Forwards. Farther. He should have turned around. But he felt like swimming. It was nice. What a time to be alive. He could feel the wind beating his back, thousands of droplets pattering on it. His arms cutting through wind and rain. He swam on. The rain cut into his skin. Sharp. Pointed. Faster. Furious. He swam on. The fish had long since cleared. The sea was cloudy. Swirling about due to the change in the winds. He kept swimming. He had passed the point of no return long ago. There were no lifeguards here, either. He knew what he was getting into and he always refused to believe it. He wanted to swim farther, and he refused to accept the consequences. And still he swam onwards. Thunder laughed and screamed. Confused. At this sole swimmer who swam on. Still he swam on. As he reached the ends of his strength, as he dug deeper and deeper, trying to claw out every last pint from his screaming, tortured soul, he smiled. His face submerged in water, he smiled. The rain beat ever harder. His shoulder shook from the exhaustion and shivered from the cold. But here he was. He was here. Present. And it was all over. He felt drowsy. He closed his eyes. He stopped swimming. The voices stopped screaming. He began to sink, and as he sunk deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean, shockingly without any attempts at struggle, and as his chest screamed for air, and his ears burned, there was a beautiful smile on his face. Eyes closed.