Savior Self

I keep looking for someone to dig me out of this grave.

Someone who would lift me up, dust me off, and show me the wondrous park I was lying in.

I got tired of waiting and started to pull the dirt in on myself; accepting the only fate I thought I had in store.

"Water on a duck's back" they used to say about me. "Not much seems to get you down. It all just kind of rolls off"

How fitting the duck analogy is. Except I would agree more with the other one. "Duck floating on water. So calm on the surface, while underneath you find feet frantically paddling to keep afloat"

I've dug my grave.

I've laid in it.

I was buried up to my neck.

There are no more knights come to save you.

You have to save yourself.

*         *         *

_"Expecting someone else, were you, Deit?"

_"Yes... No... I... I'm not sure," Deitrick thought to her.
_Charon arches and eyebrow and looks at him, quizzically, "Who better to carry you across this sea than the Ferryman?"

_Who indeed? Just who was I expecting? As much as her words pull at my soul I have an... understanding that it is wrong. Interesting. I know what emotions are and also know that I do not have any. Deitrick's thoughts begin to trail off in various tangents; Jumping from one concept to the next.

So caught up in his own thoughts was he that he did not notice Charon snap her fingers nor her hand waving in front of his face. He paid no mind to any of Charon's attempts to get his attention.

_"Deitrick!" her words speared his soul and spun him around. He met her determined glare with one of his own.

_"Camellia" he calmly thinks to Charon who seems shocked by it, "That is who I expect here. But I don't know why. Why does every thought, every reasoning, every conclusion yield that name?"

_He turns and peers into the dark sea, blankly scanning the city below.

_"Every time my mind settles on that name, I find myself being drawn to something that isn't there," his focus shifts to the reflection cast onto the surface of the 'water', "I find it pulling at my heart."

His focus clarifies at the same instant that his fist goes to settle on his chest. Simultaneously he notices that he is only casting half of his reflection and that there is no chest over where his heart should be. Reflected in the darkness of sea is the right half of a naked man and on the left is a silhouette eclipsing some sort of brightness.

_He quickly brings his hands up before his face and notices the same. Naked right hand. Silhouette eclipsing brightness left hand.

_He turns and looks past his hands, "What is the meaning of this, Charon?"

_Charon sighs in resignation, "I can tell we are not going to get very far," She grabs her lantern-hung steering pole from the sand and begins to board her ferry, "I told you already, Mr. Devos, you are just half the man."

_Deitrick reaches for the ferryboat with his left hand, becomes disturbed by the sight of it, and collapses into the sand. He looks up towards Charon, "How did this happen?"

_Charon seats herself on one of the boat's benches, "How about you tell me? What do you remember? Think back further than this place."