FISH ON A BOAT

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, in the world of ColouredWaters, there lived an ancient mariner. He was a courageous and adventourous mariner, braving all the waves and storms and waters of unknown lands, journeying further than anyone has ever been before. His whole life was on the little boat he called his home. The little things he had, a few pieces of clothing; his reading glasses, though our ancient mariner never learnt to read; a walking stick cut from the bough of an old oak tree; a pretty little bowl rumoured to be given to him by a certain pretty woman who passed his life once; a yellowed letter in a box made of beechwood. These were his valuables he treasured more than life which he kept safely in the little cabin in his little boat he called his home.
Now our ancient mariner prided himself in being the first to journey to waters deep and unknown, to lands far and wide. He would never turn away from unplotted terrain, from waters unexplored.

One day, which began like all other days, the sun of ColouredWaters rising out of the waters, chasing the little orange moon down back home. The ancient mariner arose with the sun and smelt the air of ColouredWaters and saw this new sea which shone a hue of pale mauve. The ancient mariner stood at the stern of the little boat he called his home, thinking. Was he thinking about the pretty woman who gave him the pretty little bowl, or of the yellowed letter in the box made of beechwood, or of the part of the sea which shone mauve, we do not know.
As the boat drifted past a certain part of the sea which shone a hue of pale mauve, the ancient mariner looked down through the clear waters and saw, of a beautiful land far beneath. Unseen by any other eyes of man before the ancient mariner, this was a world where things were one. The seaweeds had the consciousness of the fishes and the turtles knew the sand that lay deep beneath this part of the clear sea that shone mauve. There was no other, no unknown, no you or me. All was one, a single consciousness, a single thread of cognizance in this place where the sea shone a hue of pale mauve.
Down in the depths of the water the ancient mariner saw a fish swim past. A fish with the thread of consciousness of the sea anemones, and the silver sand, and the waters of the sea which shone a hue of pale mauve. The ancient mariner stretched out his hands and caught this Fish which swam in and had the consciousness of the waters in this part of the sea which shone a hue of pale mauve, and Fish was put into the little bowl rumoured to be given to him by a certain pretty woman who passed his life once.

Every new ocean he went to, the ancient mariner would take some water from the sea and put it into Fish's bowl. The waters changed from blue to green to yellow, to red, purple, turquoise, violet, mauve, olive, orange, but they never mixed.
Every new drop of water into Fish's bowl brought Fish new knowledge, new colours from far away waters she once knew as home. Every single time a new drop of water was added, Fish would tell the ancient mariner new stories. Stories of the lives and peoples of far off lands. Stories that were touching, stories that were exciting, stories too marvellous for words. And every time the ancient mariner hears a new story, he would grow a little. A little richer, a little wiser. A little more into the world of ColouredWaters.
Once when the ancient mariner added a drop of cyan water, Fish told him about the world of a princess who has never found Love because she had been holding Love too tightly and never giving Love a chance to roam and be found.
Another time when the ancient mariner added some pearly coloured water, Fish talked of a dying old man on his rocking chair, smelling the last rose of summer, knowing that there will never be a next summer for him.
When a drop of green water was added, the tale of a soldier fighting for all that he had, his country, his home, his freedom.
A violet drop, a young man losing his wealth but finding truth and kindness in return.
Turquoise, magenta, olive-coloured, yellow, pink, blue. A young lady stepping out of her ivory tower for the first time; a newly married couple having to part; a second chance given to a sinner; a little boy breaking the toy train he loved most; a mother by the deathbed of her child; an old woman sitting by her door for years, watching the world pass by.

Soon Fish's bowl was full of all sorts of different colours, all the colours of the rainbow. And the stories that Fish told enlarged the ancient mariner by a little and a little and a little. The world of ColouredWaters was getting closer and closer to the world of the ancient mariner.
Fish had to go back to the seas one day. That became clearer the closer the world of ColouredWaters got to the world of the ancient mariner. But the ancient mariner could not let go. He loved Fish too much. And Fish loved in return, and never mentioned her own world in the seas of ColouredWaters.
Fish hoped one day, her stories would bring the ancient mariner's world so close to the world of ColouredWaters that Fish would be with ancient mariner even in the deepest seas of ColouredWaters.

Years passed. The ancient mariner was still sailing the seas with Fish in the little bowl rumoured to be given to him by a certain pretty woman who passed his life once. The boat was still the same, the little cabin in the little boat the ancient mariner calls his home. But the ancient mariner had a few more lines to his face and his hand perhaps trembled a bit more as he guides the little boat he calls his home under the stars of ColouredWaters.

One day, which began like all other days, the sun of ColouredWaters rising out of the waters, chasing the little orange moon down back home.
As the ancient mariner sailed towards a certain part of the sea which shone a hue of pale mauve, he seemed to remember something. A memory of a story long ago. Was it of the yellowed letter in the box made of beechwood, or the little bowl rumoured to be given to him by a certain pretty woman who passed his life once, we do not know.
Suddenly, the ancient mariner's hands trembled, and slipped, and the little boat he called his home steered towards a rough patch of rocks.
The little boat the ancient mariner called his home, gave a jerk, and an ear-splitting crash, over the seas which shone a hue of pale mauve. With the jerk, the little bowl rumoured to be given to him by a certain pretty woman who passed his life once shook and fell off the niche on the shelf it stood for years. And with it, the water with colours of the rainbow, and Fish, her consciousness with the certain part of the sea which shone a hue of pale mauve.
The fall struck a hole in the little bowl rumoured to be given to him by a certain pretty woman who passed his life once and the crash struck a hole in the little boat the ancient mariner called his home. As the water poured out of the little bowl, the ancient mariner could only watch as Fish gasped desperately for air. He was sad. Sad that the end had to come like this. That he could not let go before. But Fish knew. Fish would be one again with the seas which shone a hue of pale mauve. But she could not tell the ancient mariner.
As Fish gasped for her last breaths of air, water gushed into the little boat the ancient mariner called his home.
Fish was gone. The water continued gushing in. The ancient mariner thought of the princess who never found Love, of the man with the last rose of summer, of the soldier fighting for all he had, of the fear in the heart of the sinner, of the many many stories the seas brought to Fish.

Then the ancient mariner knew. The water continued gushing in, lifting the lifeless body of Fish and the ancient mariner knew.
With a smile, he loosened his hold on the stern of the little boat he called his home. With a smile, he let go. And the water continued gushing over him.