Amalgamations of rusted and twisted steel in the deep, ephemeral yet daunting as their mass exceeds perhaps the stars themselves. Sharp cracks bear the frame, and small fish dart through, hiding from larger beasts of the deep or perhaps just sheltering from the current.
When the ship sunk it used to be a feeding ground, as flesh and blood of sailors mixed with the salt and silt. Their bones bleached clean, skulls grinning blindly into the deep, the occasional piece of jewelry or steel mixed with the bone.
Eventually though, even the bones will grind to dust and mix with the sand and coral, or be swept along with the tides. Carrion. And as carrion, they will carry on endlessly, pulled inexorably by the waves, pulled deeper, or perhaps to surface far away.
But what of a soul? Is one really all just the flesh and blood that makes them, a hollow casket of dreams and hope? Or is their something more down there, mingling with the creatures and aimlessly wandering the sea?
When our eyes close for the last time, what happens? Do we simply fall away from ourselves to become the very ocean floors sand that we previously rested our head, or do we still roam the deep, incomprehensibly tied to the position of last thought?
Absolution, is just an iceberg away.
(IMAGE SOURCE: by Runolite on deviantart (Can't say how much I love this image, just as a side note.))
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