Topic: the art of drowning

Sinjin Fai

Date: 2009-03-01 05:34 EST
I wonder how it all got started, this business
about seeing your life flash before your eyes
while you drown, as if panic, or the act of submergence,
could startle time into such compression, crushing
decades in the vice of your desperate, final seconds.

After falling off a steamship or being swept away
in a rush of floodwaters, wouldn't you hope
for a more leisurely review, an invisible hand
turning the pages of an album of photographs-
you up on a pony or blowing out candles in a conic hat.

How about a short animated film, a slide presentation?
Your life expressed in an essay, or in one model photograph?
Wouldn't any form be better than this sudden flash?
Your whole existence going off in your face
in an eyebrow-singeing explosion of biography-
nothing like the three large volumes you envisioned.

Survivors would have us believe in a brilliance
here, some bolt of truth forking across the water,
an ultimate Light before all the lights go out,
dawning on you with all its megalithic tonnage.
But if something does flash before your eyes
as you go under, it will probably be a fish,

a quick blur of curved silver darting away,
having nothing to do with your life or your death.
The tide will take you, or the lake will accept it all
as you sink toward the weedy disarray of the bottom,
leaving behind what you have already forgotten,
the surface, now overrun with the high travel of clouds.

billy collins; the art of drowning



The ocean was his great equalizer. At some point after he fell into Ambrose's inheritance, Sin bought the stretch of beach that had always been his anyway, even if the possession was never physical until then. It was here that Chaus burned away the last of his curse and gave it to Sinjin, walked through the fire that he, too, would someday walk through; it was here that there was a grave, now broken, with the name Tohias written upon it. His first home, his first love, his soul lost and recovered again -- all here, on this very shore.

He left a trail in his wake. His boots came off first so he could feel the cold sand at his feet, more grounding than any rock could be, followed by his trench coat; soon his shirt was caught by some breeze as he unbuttoned it, pulled out to sea. In the end, he was left with a pair of loose cotton pants, sitting with his forearms resting on his knees with the cold water lapping at his equally cold feet.

Sinjin, at his best points, was a jester, a fool: he made a mockery of the world around him, laughed until it laughed back at him. At his worst points, his truest points, he was a broken man who had been glued back together too many times for any sort of sense to be made. Muddy gray eyes, flat as the coming dawn which painted the horizon, watched the endless ocean before him. Out there, he realized, there was no fire waiting to lick at his heels. There was nothing for him to take apart and put back together again and nothing to do the same to him.

He rose. Sand clung to the lines of his scarred body as the sea-salt air whipped across his hair, sticking to his face; he stepped out and the first grip of cold water began to pull him further, calling him home like a brother. He walked, mindless of the cold as it crawled up his body, until he could walk no more and began to swim. He swam, feeling the whispers of a thousands aches fall off of him, until he could fight the current no longer and it spat him back out onto the sand.

Caked with sand and salt and ocean, Sinjin Fai began to watch the sunrise as a glorious emptiness filled him.

Sinjin Fai

Date: 2009-05-13 03:59 EST
"Are you ever going to be free?" Simply as a child might, head tilted aside. There wasn't any foreseeing he could do that would gaint him any insight into the Sinners twisted path.

His apathetic expression broke when he laughed; it was light and amused, slowly bleeding into something of a grin as he turned to regard the boy fully. "No," he admitted, still smiling. "No, I won't."

"I wonder, sometimes." Explaining, sort of, the question with a smile responded to the smile. "And your edges are ragged again, and you go on, and you fear. What was lost?"

"What do you think I fear?" He asked, his expression slowly falling back again, even if it didn't quite close off; he was curious now.

"You're moving too slow. Far too slow. Speaking too much like I do. Stopping to think too much. Second guessing, I think you are doing, sometimes. When you lift your head, it's like you're watching every shadow, and still staring at nothing." Related all this in a soft sing-song, lyric turns to the soft baritone. Yet matter of factly. It was what he saw, and knew it.

"You didn't answer my question." He did not deny Desdenova's observations; there was no point in lying.

"I don't know." Finally admitted, his brows drawing together. "Not this time. It's not as if you fear yourself, though I think you have. You usually fear for your loved ones. Not this time, I think. You don't fear for yourself, but I have seen you fear to go foreward on your own wants and desires." Quiet again, for a few moments. "You fear you might fail, and think you have all ready."

He considered that in silence for a moment, unseen eyes turning toward the street again. After the silence lingered almost too long, he stirred from his own thoughts and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, muttering something soft and tired under his breath. He dropped his hand, cutting a slow walk toward the stairs. "Get some rest, Desdenova."

"I will. Love you." Promised after Sin, settling quiet once more with his tea and dog.

The same words continued on repeat as he walked away, stuck in the shadow-slick corners of his mind: "Don't be stupid, Tohias."



(taken from live play with permission from the author)

Sinjin Fai

Date: 2011-05-01 18:44 EST
He was having dinner with Marcus for the second time in one month. If that wasn't enough to bemuse Sinjin, it was for nothing short of a celebration.

He saw across from the Irishman and their mutual secretary, Sabine, whose smile was beaming more than usual; it even seemed to brighten the edges of Marcus's perpetual scowl. As a man who was becoming far too pleased in the irritation of his co-workers, it was nearly enough to send Sinjin into an unseemly titter.

"So," he said, once he meanaged to restrain himself, and leaned over the table with a glass of wine in hand. "Come on, Sabine. Let's see it."

Marcus hunkered down further, but Sinjin paid him little mind. With a smile that could light every house in Rhy'din for a week, Sabine extended her left hand where a single, perfect diamond was sitting on her ring finger, set in silver. Sinjin whistled. "Damn. Marcus has taste. Shocking." He winked to Sabine.

"He did a very good job," the dark-skinned woman praised, and gave her fiancee a smile that seemed to appease him enough to relax again. "But there's more." A serious look touched her eyes again, though the veil of happiness never lifted. When she hesitated, Marcus straightened and touched her hand.

"She's pregnant, Fai," he told him all at once, his blue eyes set on the kindred. "And we need a safehouse."

Sinjin's eyebrows jerked up. He couldn't hide his brief moment of elation, followed quickly by self-sorrow that disappeared behind a cheshire smile; he doubted that Sabine caught it, but Marcus surely did. The man was uncanny with observation, but that's what he was hired for. "Congratulations, Sabine," he crooned to her, and the woman beamed just as brightly again. "Of course -- I can find some place for you both. It's the least I can do. And if you need anything at all.."

He trailed off, but they both understood. Soon after Sabine excused herself to move toward the ladies room, the sinner found himself face to face with Marcus.

"What is it," he asked quietly, frowning.

Sinjin shook his head, but his mind was clouded: he thought of Ana, and Raza, and the child that was yet to be born. "Nothing. Recognize the gift, Marcus. I don't think this is how you planned things, but believe me -- it's a gift."

The two men sat in an uneasy silence until Sabine arrived again, and the moment passed unmentioned, as it ever did.