The black iceberg hovered motionlessly above the yellow sea.
It wasn't really hovering, but it seemed like that because 11/12ths of it floated above the surface. It defied most laws of physics that icebergs usually follow.
It maintained a steady temperature several degrees above freezing - it even looked warm.
Neither was it hard enough to crack the hull of a ship open, although this is not something any decent iceberg would boast about.
It wasn't much of an iceberg, but one couldn't really say it was anything else. Once in a while, its crystals would shift deep inside due to some minor change in temperature. On these occasions, it would let out a distinctly iceberg-like sound, something like a groan - mmrrooaaaaahh! Yes, there was no doubt it was a black iceberg.
While casting these doubts on the berg-ness of the black iceberg, you might have noticed I didn't say much about the sea-ness of the yellow sea. This is because one couldn't really conclude that it was a sea. In calm weather - like it was that day - the sea is so still that it might just be a desert. You could only tell which it was by dipping your hand into it. Your sense of smell would be of no use, since there are such things as salt deserts, which I am told smell of salt as well. Without a personal dip test, the placid shifting of the surface might just be sand sliding lazily across flattened dunes. It didn't help that the sea was yellow.
I only assume it was a sea because there was a black iceberg in it.
Above the black iceberg, the sun shone warm white (which is a shade of yellow). The iceberg showed no sign of melting. Instead, it slowly turned in place until its largest surface pointed straight at the heat source. Of course, it did this without motive or deliberation; it was just a black iceberg, incapable of such scheming. It moved in the same way a boulder rolls down a hill one day of its own accord. The yellow sea did not resist, except for a few ripples, that seemed to stay in place rather than disappear after a while. The sun did not mind either, although a biased observer might say it shone a little harder at this cheeky display. The change in temperature on its surface shifted the black iceberg's crystals deep inside - mmmrrrroooaaaaahhh!
This latest groan was loud enough to wake me up.
No, this is not one of those fantastic tales where it turns out everything was a dream at the end, although those warrant a groan as well. What I meant was, I was lying asleep in my boat, and the black iceberg's groan woke me up as I floated nearby. I had to take in everything I have described thus far in a matter of seconds. The dull ache in my head distracted me from the possibly unusual scene. When you've spent enough time on the sea, you get used to a continuous head cold from all the moisture in the air. That morning was only my second week on the water, and the heavy feeling in my skull took up a lot of my attention.
As I said, the black iceberg wasn't even hard enough to crack the hull of a ship open. My little boat had escaped without any damage, even though it must have bumped up against the black iceberg more than once before I woke up. Though I had fallen asleep in the boat at sea last night, I did the dip test to check if this yellow expanse was still a sea - it was. I steered my boat close enough to jump onto the black iceberg, since I didn't want to get wet, and was tired of the boat.
A black iceberg of the right shape could easily be mistaken for a shark fin from a distance. This is because in the high seas, there are no objects nearby to compare the size of something. Anyway, in the case of a shark fin, there would be no objects nearby - at least not for long. The black iceberg I was about to climb onto was of the wrong shape, or perhaps its shape was the one I should call right. It was rounded at all edges, looking more like a black ice-cream than a black iceberg. In mid-hop, I was busy wondering what flavour a black ice-cream might have - grape? cola? liquorice? All these flavours existed, but none looked as black as the black iceberg.
It was inevitable that I would lick the black iceberg after this - it was flavourless, just like ice. Unlike ice, it was much warmer, and black of course, but as if sensing the fresh doubts arising in my mind, it let out another groan - mmrrrooooaahhh! Yes, there was no doubt it was a black iceberg.
The bending over to lick the black iceberg had moved the heaviness about in my head. The fresh assault of pain resulting from this, coupled with the deafening sound, kept me on my knees. I decided not to resist and flattened out, face down.
I hadn't only jumped onto the black iceberg for a change of scene. The fresh water supplies on my boat were almost over. Floating up to an iceberg in the middle of the sea, even a black one, is like a well tunneling its way toward you in the desert. I wondered if there was some way I could tether it to my boat, and tow it along behind me. Since only 1/12th of it was in the water, it seemed like this could be done pretty easily. I mentally ticked off what I would need - a long metal spike, a hammer and a length of rope.
I had none of these. Before the current picked up, I would have to scrape off what I could into the water bottles on the boat, and leave the black iceberg behind.
I thought about this with my face down in the black iceberg. I couldn't be sure whether it was melting where my warm breath fell on it, or if it was just pressing down with the weight of my face. Either way, the position was not uncomfortable, with a depression that allowed my nose to point straight down. At that moment, in the middle of a yellow sea, I thought I'd much rather be on this black iceberg than that boat.
No one was around to hear me say it. This was probably the first time those words had been spoken together in a sentence. Then I realised I had only said it in my head. The thought had perhaps been audacious enough to sound loud as well. My cheeks and lips worked against the black ice as I mouthed the words this time. My eyes were closed, but this was a new kind of darkness. No red glow outside my eyelids, nor the dark kaleidoscope of pulsing blood vessels on the inside. There were no sounds, only a private communication (with whom?) that a decision had been taken. Deep inside the black iceberg, its crystals started to shift. It was time to get up.
I bent my elbows and placed my palms flat on the black ice on either side, preparing to push myself away. It felt like an infinite amount of energy was required to perform the next step - it was - but I managed after a few false starts. The blood rushed away from my head with the sudden lift, taking the ache with it temporarily. After a while, I could hear the yellow sea as it slid under the black iceberg. I started to open my eyes, only to realise they were already open. The darkness had just not gone away.
The heaviness returned to my head, but this was almost welcome as my mind spun with questions. The black iceberg groaned - mrrrroooahhh! - the sound was gentler now. The difference in temperature between the black iceberg's surface and interior must have reduced. There was a possibility that the sun had set while I was lying face down. This might just be a moonless, starless night I had awoken into. Not content with this wishful thinking, I crawled towards the edge of the black iceberg. I had to wash whatever must have got into my eyes. I cupped my hands in the yellow sea - was it still yellow? - and splashed the water onto my face. It had no effect. I rubbed my eyes until it felt like the lids would shear off, but no light came through.
My breath seemed to fill a void that was the sea and sky combined. The sound and touch and smell and taste of it didn't matter. The sea was yellow and the sky was warm white, but now they could be either - now they could be neither. The black iceberg was a crystallised (but not very hard) piece of this void, slowly turning in place. I was a directionless point on its surface. I only assume we were turning because the faint sound of splashing entered the periphery of my hearing.
The sound filled me with an irrational feeling. The current must have picked up, and a pitch black night might actually have fallen. And it had brought the boat with it. The boat was the last familiar thing I had experienced that day. As the splashing came closer, I felt a strong urge to touch it again. I skirted the edge, with one arm brushing the slightly warm surface and the other outstretched. The boat would save me, my vision would return as soon as I got on it, this darkness would dissolve and the sun would be shining again.
I was reminded of the first time I saw a pool as a child. I had jumped straight in to the deep end, exhilarated by the sight. It was the first time I was completely submerged, the whole world changed to the sound of shimmering and the burn of chlorine. This was followed by a heavy calm, as the pool rushed in at me from all sides, my instinctive thrashing too feeble to stop it. I would have drowned if my father hadn't plucked me out in time. Later, I was confused that something so inviting and unopaque could have smothered me to death. As a result, instead of developing a fear of water, I was intrigued by it, which only increased its attraction for me. This might explain why I was in the middle of a yellow sea, headache notwithstanding.
I tried to decide what had jogged this memory - the boat, that would rescue me like my father had, or the waters, that seemed to have lured me to betray me again. I stopped and listened, pausing between breaths to identify the direction the splashes were coming from. They still seemed faint. No - that would mean the movement was either far off or gentle. This sounded more like something muffled. Like something drowning.
My still outstretched hand snapped back at this recognition. I knew now where the memory had come from. The splashes began to sink below the surface, but I could still feel the vibrations from beyond. They were less erratic, modulated by the viscous water. I wondered if I should or could jump in to help. The cliche of other senses heightening when one fails was only partly true. Not enough to risk leaving the black iceberg on a blind rescue mission (to rescue whom?). It felt oddly like someone was leaving me to my fate, rather than the other way around. I shouted out into the darkness. The effect was so sudden and jarring that I stopped short, not even registering what I had said. It just seemed like a loud incoherent sound, that was immediately swallowed up by the void. There was no echo, because there was nothing for the sound to bounce off, except the black iceberg itself.
It wasn't really hovering, but it seemed like that because 11/12ths of it floated above the surface. It defied most laws of physics that icebergs usually follow.
It maintained a steady temperature several degrees above freezing - it even looked warm.
Neither was it hard enough to crack the hull of a ship open, although this is not something any decent iceberg would boast about.
It wasn't much of an iceberg, but one couldn't really say it was anything else. Once in a while, its crystals would shift deep inside due to some minor change in temperature. On these occasions, it would let out a distinctly iceberg-like sound, something like a groan - mmrrooaaaaahh! Yes, there was no doubt it was a black iceberg.
While casting these doubts on the berg-ness of the black iceberg, you might have noticed I didn't say much about the sea-ness of the yellow sea. This is because one couldn't really conclude that it was a sea. In calm weather - like it was that day - the sea is so still that it might just be a desert. You could only tell which it was by dipping your hand into it. Your sense of smell would be of no use, since there are such things as salt deserts, which I am told smell of salt as well. Without a personal dip test, the placid shifting of the surface might just be sand sliding lazily across flattened dunes. It didn't help that the sea was yellow.
I only assume it was a sea because there was a black iceberg in it.
Above the black iceberg, the sun shone warm white (which is a shade of yellow). The iceberg showed no sign of melting. Instead, it slowly turned in place until its largest surface pointed straight at the heat source. Of course, it did this without motive or deliberation; it was just a black iceberg, incapable of such scheming. It moved in the same way a boulder rolls down a hill one day of its own accord. The yellow sea did not resist, except for a few ripples, that seemed to stay in place rather than disappear after a while. The sun did not mind either, although a biased observer might say it shone a little harder at this cheeky display. The change in temperature on its surface shifted the black iceberg's crystals deep inside - mmmrrrroooaaaaahhh!
This latest groan was loud enough to wake me up.
No, this is not one of those fantastic tales where it turns out everything was a dream at the end, although those warrant a groan as well. What I meant was, I was lying asleep in my boat, and the black iceberg's groan woke me up as I floated nearby. I had to take in everything I have described thus far in a matter of seconds. The dull ache in my head distracted me from the possibly unusual scene. When you've spent enough time on the sea, you get used to a continuous head cold from all the moisture in the air. That morning was only my second week on the water, and the heavy feeling in my skull took up a lot of my attention.
As I said, the black iceberg wasn't even hard enough to crack the hull of a ship open. My little boat had escaped without any damage, even though it must have bumped up against the black iceberg more than once before I woke up. Though I had fallen asleep in the boat at sea last night, I did the dip test to check if this yellow expanse was still a sea - it was. I steered my boat close enough to jump onto the black iceberg, since I didn't want to get wet, and was tired of the boat.
A black iceberg of the right shape could easily be mistaken for a shark fin from a distance. This is because in the high seas, there are no objects nearby to compare the size of something. Anyway, in the case of a shark fin, there would be no objects nearby - at least not for long. The black iceberg I was about to climb onto was of the wrong shape, or perhaps its shape was the one I should call right. It was rounded at all edges, looking more like a black ice-cream than a black iceberg. In mid-hop, I was busy wondering what flavour a black ice-cream might have - grape? cola? liquorice? All these flavours existed, but none looked as black as the black iceberg.
It was inevitable that I would lick the black iceberg after this - it was flavourless, just like ice. Unlike ice, it was much warmer, and black of course, but as if sensing the fresh doubts arising in my mind, it let out another groan - mmrrrooooaahhh! Yes, there was no doubt it was a black iceberg.
The bending over to lick the black iceberg had moved the heaviness about in my head. The fresh assault of pain resulting from this, coupled with the deafening sound, kept me on my knees. I decided not to resist and flattened out, face down.
I hadn't only jumped onto the black iceberg for a change of scene. The fresh water supplies on my boat were almost over. Floating up to an iceberg in the middle of the sea, even a black one, is like a well tunneling its way toward you in the desert. I wondered if there was some way I could tether it to my boat, and tow it along behind me. Since only 1/12th of it was in the water, it seemed like this could be done pretty easily. I mentally ticked off what I would need - a long metal spike, a hammer and a length of rope.
I had none of these. Before the current picked up, I would have to scrape off what I could into the water bottles on the boat, and leave the black iceberg behind.
I thought about this with my face down in the black iceberg. I couldn't be sure whether it was melting where my warm breath fell on it, or if it was just pressing down with the weight of my face. Either way, the position was not uncomfortable, with a depression that allowed my nose to point straight down. At that moment, in the middle of a yellow sea, I thought I'd much rather be on this black iceberg than that boat.
No one was around to hear me say it. This was probably the first time those words had been spoken together in a sentence. Then I realised I had only said it in my head. The thought had perhaps been audacious enough to sound loud as well. My cheeks and lips worked against the black ice as I mouthed the words this time. My eyes were closed, but this was a new kind of darkness. No red glow outside my eyelids, nor the dark kaleidoscope of pulsing blood vessels on the inside. There were no sounds, only a private communication (with whom?) that a decision had been taken. Deep inside the black iceberg, its crystals started to shift. It was time to get up.
I bent my elbows and placed my palms flat on the black ice on either side, preparing to push myself away. It felt like an infinite amount of energy was required to perform the next step - it was - but I managed after a few false starts. The blood rushed away from my head with the sudden lift, taking the ache with it temporarily. After a while, I could hear the yellow sea as it slid under the black iceberg. I started to open my eyes, only to realise they were already open. The darkness had just not gone away.
The heaviness returned to my head, but this was almost welcome as my mind spun with questions. The black iceberg groaned - mrrrroooahhh! - the sound was gentler now. The difference in temperature between the black iceberg's surface and interior must have reduced. There was a possibility that the sun had set while I was lying face down. This might just be a moonless, starless night I had awoken into. Not content with this wishful thinking, I crawled towards the edge of the black iceberg. I had to wash whatever must have got into my eyes. I cupped my hands in the yellow sea - was it still yellow? - and splashed the water onto my face. It had no effect. I rubbed my eyes until it felt like the lids would shear off, but no light came through.
My breath seemed to fill a void that was the sea and sky combined. The sound and touch and smell and taste of it didn't matter. The sea was yellow and the sky was warm white, but now they could be either - now they could be neither. The black iceberg was a crystallised (but not very hard) piece of this void, slowly turning in place. I was a directionless point on its surface. I only assume we were turning because the faint sound of splashing entered the periphery of my hearing.
The sound filled me with an irrational feeling. The current must have picked up, and a pitch black night might actually have fallen. And it had brought the boat with it. The boat was the last familiar thing I had experienced that day. As the splashing came closer, I felt a strong urge to touch it again. I skirted the edge, with one arm brushing the slightly warm surface and the other outstretched. The boat would save me, my vision would return as soon as I got on it, this darkness would dissolve and the sun would be shining again.
I was reminded of the first time I saw a pool as a child. I had jumped straight in to the deep end, exhilarated by the sight. It was the first time I was completely submerged, the whole world changed to the sound of shimmering and the burn of chlorine. This was followed by a heavy calm, as the pool rushed in at me from all sides, my instinctive thrashing too feeble to stop it. I would have drowned if my father hadn't plucked me out in time. Later, I was confused that something so inviting and unopaque could have smothered me to death. As a result, instead of developing a fear of water, I was intrigued by it, which only increased its attraction for me. This might explain why I was in the middle of a yellow sea, headache notwithstanding.
I tried to decide what had jogged this memory - the boat, that would rescue me like my father had, or the waters, that seemed to have lured me to betray me again. I stopped and listened, pausing between breaths to identify the direction the splashes were coming from. They still seemed faint. No - that would mean the movement was either far off or gentle. This sounded more like something muffled. Like something drowning.
My still outstretched hand snapped back at this recognition. I knew now where the memory had come from. The splashes began to sink below the surface, but I could still feel the vibrations from beyond. They were less erratic, modulated by the viscous water. I wondered if I should or could jump in to help. The cliche of other senses heightening when one fails was only partly true. Not enough to risk leaving the black iceberg on a blind rescue mission (to rescue whom?). It felt oddly like someone was leaving me to my fate, rather than the other way around. I shouted out into the darkness. The effect was so sudden and jarring that I stopped short, not even registering what I had said. It just seemed like a loud incoherent sound, that was immediately swallowed up by the void. There was no echo, because there was nothing for the sound to bounce off, except the black iceberg itself.
