Bubble Guppies Dvd Opening

Btw here are all the characters in order (since I’ll be skipping some when talking about the musical talents) Characters: Lady Columbia Mister J (The Letter People) Janice (The Muppets) Jasper T. Jowls (Chuck E. Cheese) André (The Adventures of André & Wally B) Tinny (Tin Toy) Rocko Rama (Rocko’s Modern Life) Cherokee (My Peoples) Good O’ Boy (My Peoples) Rudy Tabootie (Chalkzone) Juno (Midnight Horror School) Eddy (Pororo) Puss In Boots (Shrek) Stingy Spoilero (Lazytown) Austin (The Backyardigans) Weebee (Moonzy) Roddy St. James (Flushed Away) El Tigre/Manny Rivera (El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera) Izzy (Total Drama) Super Why/Whyatt Beanstalk (Super Why) J (Alphablocks) Kwazii (Octonauts) Nonny (Bubble Guppies) Jake (Jake and the Neverland Pirates) Bambino (La Luna) Juice (KidsTV123) Brick McArthur (Total Drama) Raquelle (Barbie) Henry Hugglemonster Marshall (Paw Patrol) Tag (Hey Duggee) Peppa Mint (Shopkins) Neonlicious (L.O.L. Surprise) Veneer (Trolls) Unnamed space boy & girl (Nickelodeon Top of the Hour 1985) (they should be in between André & Tinny if we’re talking release date wise, but I felt like putting them in the bottom corners) So far, here’s what musical experience they already have: Lady Columbia - was shown playing the flute in opening logo for Vivo Mister J (The Letter People) - can sing Janice (The Muppets) - her main instrument is guitar, she can also play banjo, harp, steel marimbaphone, tambourine, claves, trombone, trumpet, violin, & clarinet (I think that’s what it is), as well as sing Jasper T. Jowls (Chuck E Cheese) - his main instrument currently is bass guitar, he can also play electric guitar (his main instrument from 1991 - 2014), banjo (his main instrument from 1977 - 1991), acoustic guitar, & harmonica, as well as sing Tinny (Tin Toy) - he’s a literal one man band, being able to play the accordion & drum, along with a mellophone & xylophone attached to the drum Rudy Tabootie (Chalkzone) - he’s the keyboard/synthesizer player & vocalist in his band, he can also play ukulele & rap Juno (Midnight Horror School) - she did volunteer to take Onpoo’s place as the lead singer in a performance, but she dropped out last minute (queen behavior 🙌🙌🙌) , so she never performed. She was also shown practicing singing, but we never heard her. Eddy (Pororo) - he’s able to play the xylophone, bass drum, trumpet, & glass cups, he is also able to rap & sing (tho he doesn’t like singing in front of others) Puss in Boots (Shrek) - he can play the guitar & played golden eggs as if they were drums, he can also sing Stingy Spoilero (Lazytown) - he’s the bassist of his band, as well as harmonica player, saxophonist, & recorder player, he can also sing Austin (The Backyardigans) - he can play drums & sing Weebee (Moonzy) - he can play the trumpet, use his buckets as bongos, there’s an image on a dvd where he holds a violin, in one of the books, he’s shown playing drums (ONE OF US ONE OF US), he can sing (but like Eddy, he doesn’t like doing it in front of others) Roddy St. James (Flushed Away) - he can play ukulele, there was also a game cover (I think that’s what it was, I can’t seem to find it for some reason, it might be in Japanese) where he’s playing piano, he can also sing (it’s Hugh Jackman, what do you expect lol) El Tigre/Manny Rivera (show of the same name) - he’s shown to play cowbell, & acoustic guitar, he was shown singing on occasion, but it was extremely rare Izzy (Total Drama) - she was shown singing in World Tour & Skatoony, as well as doing a rap line Super Why/Whyatt Beanstalk (show of the same name) - he can play the ukulele & xylophone, as well as sing J (Alphablocks) - she sings sometimes, but not often, and when she does, she’s… not that good of a singer most of the time (sometimes she’s really good), there was also a thumbnail where she played a dj set Kwazii (Octonauts) - he can sing, but I forgot if he was able to play an instrument Nonny (Bubble Guppies) - he usually plays the keyboard, he can also play electric guitar, piano, tambourine, & violin, he can sing as well, but not often (he’s one of the best singers in the cast, fight me) Jake (Jake and The Neverland Pirates) - he has an electric guitar & can sing Brick McArthur (Total Drama) - he was shown singing on Skatoony Raquelle (Barbie) - she was a drummer in one of the doll lines and a guitarist in another line, she sucks at singing lol Henry Hugglemonster (show of the same name) - he can play guitar, played drums made out of objects, & can sing Marshall (Paw Patrol) - he’s able to play guitar & keyboard, he can also sing (just like Eddy and Weebee, he used to be afraid of singing in public) Tag (Hey Duggee) - he plays guitar in his band with the Squirrels, as well as shakers, keytar, drum, trumpet, & chimes, he can also rap & sing Peppa Mint (Shopkins) - she can sing Neonlicious - she’s one of the rappers in her girl group, she occasionally sings but only in group singing & not often Veneer (Trolls) - he (supposedly) can’t sing since he uses trolls to make him sound better, but I lowkey have a theory where he actually can but pretends he can’t so his sister won’t be upset. If you listen closely, you can still here him sing, pretty well I might add, even after he gets the trolls removed off his outfit (also unlike Velvet, he does not switch voice actors, but that’s besides the point lol) The characters I didn’t mention have never displayed musical talent in their original media Anyways, what do you guys think they’d play? Would you change any of the instruments the characters previously played? What instruments would you give the ones who never played any? submitted by /u/ILoveYouZim to r/comfortcharacters [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/RareSun_ to r/AntiPiracyScreens [link] [comments]

The sauna we were calling a bus slowly bounced down a crude path forcefully etched into the skin of Earth by journeys no different than this one. My lazy gaze was fixed on unending scenery drifting by, hoping to catch a glimpse of monkeys or an elusive jaguar whose predecessors dominated these smothering trees with unchecked ferocity. This section of untamed jungle is rich in ancient history and superstition, something our guide blabbed on about all day. “Okay folks!” Guillermo shouted, gyroscopically standing at the front, wearing the exact Cheshire smile he had on at the main building complex. His white uniform, accented with gold appointments, had no visible perspiration as he addressed this bus of slick and gummy people. “We are about to reach the “Well of Sacrifice” The largest and most religiously significant cenote in ancient Mayan civilization! Countless people were decapitated and thrown down into this exact cenote! The Mayan people who called this tropical paradise home, believed cenotes were portals to the underworld! Sacrifices had the exciting pleasure of being adorned in dazzling precious gemstones and as much gold as physically possible to appease their gods!” Thin chuckles rotated against Guillermo’s dry sarcasm in the moist air. My body was just going through the motions all day from activity to activity, it was difficult to focus on anything other than how increasingly sticky, hungry, and thirsty I was becoming. Sitting in a pool of myself, I tried to picture what water holding an unknown amount of damned souls could look like. • • • My herd meandered up a steep hill, exchanging pleasantries while I rushed upwards to get my eyes on this historic site as fast as I could. It was truly breathtaking. A deep, round pit in the crusty shell of our planet was filled a third of the way to the top with fresh, deeply saturated, blue liquid. The unrelenting jungle was desperately trying its best to reclaim the exposed stone from all angels. Vines and roots grew over each other, reaching down from every direction with a slow, deliberate, unseen might that ached to graze the water's surface. I couldn’t see the lowest point, it is and always will be covered in what remains of headless bodies, rotted away by the fourth dimension. My mind struggled to grasp the mud's depth, it certainly was bountiful enough to coat the entire exposed bottom. The primeval, siren call of fauna and flora fizzled from my ear canals decibal by decibal. I would not have moved my eyes away to behold Rapture; not even the jaguar I was searching for all day. I was staring into one of Earth’s pupils and I felt her looking back with curiosity and longing matching my own. I imagined she would blink her dark blue, all seeing appendage any second, naming me the victor of our impromptu competition of visual prowess. Giddy vacationer banter broke the spell cast on me. They finally reached the precipice and were looking at the grandeur before us that mother nature carved into her own physique. We were only sightseeing here, at the next site, we got to swim. More than eager to hurry back into our personal brazen bull on wheels to be driven to our ancient and heavenly relief, we departed. No one commented on it. No one seemed to notice someone or something staring up from down in that murk. Every hair on my body standing at attention, trying my best to brush it off, I told myself the clingy heat and dehydration were getting to me. I was absolutely elated for the first time that day. Crammed in a decrepit steam room, trudging through tightly and unevenly packed trails below our smelly feet, bumping sticky legs with the person next to me, I was smiling damn near ear to ear. • • • I was among the first three to arrive at our next pit stop after a short drive and hike through the labyrinthine foliage. Our flock was busy snapping photos of every bright spider in its mesmerizing web or lone wolf flower along our path. Guillermo chatted under his breath and laughed whole heartedly with the matching photographer that silently documented, and later sold to us, the day's adventure. A trillion imprisoned drops of precipitation huddled together amassing a volume ⅓ of the Well of Sacrifice’s. The digit hid its gaze, if it had one. Fresh, emerald green and cloudy, the true depth evaded my focused robotic-like analysis of what was before me. I convinced myself with desperate ease the green lagoon was filled with innocuous leaves, twigs, and dirt. Teeming with just as much, if not more life than the last cenote, the stranded pond harmonized along eerie notes sung by the lively jungle symphony, I could practically see the air vibrating. “Folks!” Might as well be his catchphrase at this point. “Who’s first?” Guillermo said with a smile seeming to stretch all the way around his head. One limp hand rested on the smooth metal handle bar of an old mossy zipline. No one dared make an audible peep or sudden move. “Me.” I blurted out to my own surprise, not wanting to sweat anymore and still feeling the liquid confidence of tequila tasting earlier in the day. “Can I do a backflip?” “Hah!” Guillermo gaffawed from the bottom of his soul “If you know what you are doing! Sure! I'll shout and let you know when to let go of the handle bars!” I have no idea what possessed me to decide I was capable of such a feat, considering my first zipline experience was earlier that same day. Regardless, I took a confident step off the thirty foot high cliff, and went zooming toward cool relief. “Let go!” I mustered all my force to throw an imaginary bowling ball over my head and pull my knees into my chest, ready for the water's enchanting embrace. Amidst my air borne flails, reminiscent of a baby bird jumping out of its nest for the first time, I thought I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a toothy grin and a set of evilly joyful eyes tightened to waning crescents with sheer jubilation, far below where I was about to land. With an unexpected stinging force, my back broke the serene appearing surface of the perfectly still snapshot in paradise. slap My attention was split between the over joyed face I certainly had hallucinated in my dehydrated, epinephrine filled delirium and the embarrassment of falling off of that tall ledge in such a manner. I collected myself as best I could in the moment to turn back toward the cliff I just plummeted from to see the group staring at me, holding their laughter behind tightened cheeks and balled fists. “The water is perfect!” I exclaimed while shooting a thumb up, my face hot and still managing to sweat. A sense of uncertainty continuously nipped at my toes while I treaded in water that could be 150 feet deep for all I knew. My family was ziplining in with much more grace than me as I swam around, my embarrassment faded with my tight muscles relaxing. The beautifully green hued heterogeneous mixture was a checkerboard of perfectly warm and teeth chatteringly cold spots, I searched hard to find a comfortable spot to float on. I found my resting place thirty five feet away from laughter and playful splashing. Under a tree growing over prehistoric rainfall, sounds of lapping hydration ever so gently echoed off two stone walls eroded smoothly together, and the same flippant solution that set my skin ablaze now apologetically kissed at my fiery back. I began to close my eyes while floating on my back. Before they had shut completely, the cenote I was comfortably bobbing in, solidified around me. I felt as if I was instantly assimilated into the world's biggest bowl of jell-o. In the darkness, I was resting on a bed that doesn't exist anywhere on this green and blue planet. A bespoke embrace manifested for me and me alone. I felt an alluring vibration, creeping into every cell of my body, coaxing me to sink further. I counted one second in this divine blob before I was struck from the depths below by a lightning bolt composed of peace, belonging, and tranquility touching my mind, body and soul in a divine way I thought only happened to people in the Bible. I didn’t have a brain anymore. Reduced to pure energy, my earthly suit was zapped away from me. It was somewhere close by, just in case I needed it, I couldn’t tell where. I didn’t care where. In second three, voices I knew better than my own echoed biomes away. Voices I couldn’t quite make out but felt instinctually familiar with. “We know you are faking!” “Derick!” “We are going to leave you here!” “Derick!” “Wake up!” Crash Spat out into the damp jungle, forcefully shoved back into my terrestrial constraints, my eyes shot open. I gasped for air while thrashing like someone who never touched water before. My eyes struggled to adjust to the cluttered landscape around me as my brain tried to make sense of being inside flesh and bone again. In the adrenaline charged panic, my eyes were able to make out my dad at the opposite end of the water swimming towards me, and my mom stood at the water's edge behind him. The entire group was nowhere to be seen. My brain felt like warm pudding sloshing around my head, coating the walls and clumping in soft, irregular pieces while I was trying to learn how to swim again right on the spot. My dad treaded in place as embers of life crackled deep within my eye sockets. “Haha, good nap? Don’t worry we all kept our eyes on you and made sure you didn't drown. We thought you were faking at the end! We figured you needed the rest.” My dad cheerfully shared as I began moving out of the water like a zombie, not forming any real thoughts yet. His words orbited my head in a figure eight pattern, repeatedly echoing into one ear and out the other. “Come on nene, it's time to go to the next cenote. I brought you a towel.” My moms loving words bounced around my cranium like a jumping bean that escaped a black hole, somehow begrudgingly surviving the trip through our dense atmosphere to bore itself within my chowder-filled head. I dragged my haggard self between the creaky walls and oblivious vacationers. Collapsing into the first open seat I could find, I finally had a second to think about what on God's green earth I just bore witness to against my will. My still squishy mind spun and contorted in countless directions. I felt like a scientist who made a new discovery. The group yapped on about this and that while I silently spiraled. Trying hard not to question my sanity, I focused on what I knew to be true. We were rapidly approaching the next Cenote. • • • This site was different in almost every way than the first, being completely underground. Crude stone steps abstractly coated in moss and slippery slime, carved by god knows who, led forty feet into brittle earth revealing a damp, dimly lit cavern. Scant rays of light shone lackadaisically through a man made hole in the ceiling, deliberately centered above a round stone platform in the middle of the pond. Darting iridescent fish, no longer than your pinky, caught diluted light for fractions of seconds, creating a dazzling treat my eyes ate up from the lack-luster pond. Energy of ancient rites felt trapped in this perpetually wet, limestone relic of the past. The dank air felt charged to the point that I reasoned, if I squinted hard enough, I might be able to see the ghosts of my ancestors, splashing, celebrating, and laughing like there would be no tomorrow for them. The wise, primordial bond of hydrogen and oxygen rose only to my waist, save for a small area directly in front of the round platform, deep enough for people to safely jump into. As much as my pupils struggled to dilate to the correct size, my gaze effortlessly shattered through the glass-like ecosystem. Every piece of gravel or anxiety riddled guppy calling this place home in plain view. Opting to walk in rather than cannonballing into this precious piece of history, my senses were sharp enough to register in the tens on the BESS scale as I waded through mother nature’s warm lifeblood. Fat chance I would close my eyes this time, if something were to happen, I wanted to be able to really take it all in. These refreshing, hallowed bodies trapped in this expansive cave system were feeling ever more intricate by the minute. I waded through the water housing curious inhabitants, waiting, listening. 5 minutes… 10 minutes… 20 minutes… My sense of discovery and wonder was replaced by unbridled child-like frustration. My heart revved toward its physical limit rapidly and angrily, and with furious purpose. I wanted to scream until the escaping vibrations shook the next micro-ecosystem over. How dare I let myself fall for my own whimsical dreams and belief that something special was reaching into my stiff life and shaking with no intention of stopping. Clearly, I was dehydrated to the point of delirium and delusion. Somewhere during the day a neon spider must have hitched a ride and left its puny, vampiric mark behind. Exhaustion combined with supernatural beliefs being fed to me all day resulted in a strange dream. Reason arrogantly and aggressively usurped the helm of my cognition out of whimsy’s delicate grip. I decided it was time to sulk on my own for the remaining minutes we would be inside what now felt like a claustrophobic tourist destination. I shambled exaggeratedly out of liquid crystal, moving like a geriatric soul trapped in a young body. My knees buckled out from under me for a millisecond when the water was down to my ankles. Something shocked my feet with a tiny current; the sensation you get from trick pieces of chewing gum that tingle your fingers. Not exactly painful, certainly not pleasant. The alluring call of relaxation returned, riding a cool, refreshing breeze, trying to make its way onto the dance floor with my soul from what seemed like three musty chambers away. I wanted it to rend my existence once more. One for the road. I caught my tired body before I collapsed into jagged pebble peppered stone and almost let a crooked laugh escape my sandy throat. “So I'm not going mad!” I thought to myself. I shifted my weight backwards to let the pool envelope me, swimming quietly on my red back towards the circle my family formed. I did my best to tune out their incessant waffling that could potentially be overpowering any noise being made for me. I flipped over onto my feet and forcefully injected myself into their joyous conversation, “Do you guys hear that?” Conversation fell dead in the water, everyone listened, shook their heads no and began tossing gab’s dripping corpse between each other again. “Okay folks let’s head back to the bus and get going to the last Cenote of the day!” Guillermo’s voice blasted through the stone grotto like dynamite. The white noise bubbling in humid air ceased as soon as his first syllable rebounded against gray-green rock. I was absolutely frothing to be on our way, the rest of my family however was dragging their feet literally and figuratively. • • • It began to rain lightly, sucking any shred of morale further into the soft dirt beneath our blistering toes. No one really wanted to be there other than me, but it was part of the day's plan so Guillermo would make sure we completed his entire itinerary if it was his heroic martyr. Seventeen people sought refuge around dusty plastic tables under tired and sun bleached umbrellas. This seemingly forgotten pore on the complexion of our planet was hardly a sight to behold, it seemed completely devoid of life. No visible moss or fish and no trees or vines grew around the edges. No colorful iris juxtaposed my damp wood colored stare. Crystal clear hydration from heaven revealed every crack and crevice below. This ”cenote” stood completely alone, not connecting to the main cave system of the area like almost all do. Curiosity was getting the cat’s goat as I made my lonesome way down a staircase slippery in cold rain, leading to one of three rock platforms around this jagged kettle that seemed to boil under the sky's pressure relieving release. I planned to jump in with my eyes closed to, hopefully, get the full experience from the get-go. With no one trying to keep their hair dry near me, why not have a little fun with it? No matter how big of a splash I made, no one was anywhere close enough to get caught in the fallout. “Cannonball!” Echoed through the porous sponge that was temporarily taking my brains place as I curled into a ball and hurled myself into the abyss, ready to soak up whatever I would be placed in. Splash I reached the deepest point of my trajectory, gentle resistance brought my body to a halt. Everything was wrong. Liquid that universally will acquiesce to its container grew a thousand rounded points that poked and prodded into every part of my body. Where there was once enough resistance to propel myself upwards, was now a shifting slurry of pokey elbows and boney knees, all writhing over one another, fruitlessly and eternally searching for the surface. The abnormal chill of my environment sucked away my breath in half a heartbeat. My brain entered full fledged fight or flight mode, moving me with no input of my own. Primal fear lodged one action and one word into every muscle I have; ESCAPE. Even with my frenzied eyes forced to full moons, all I saw was black, there was no waters edge to be moving toward even if I figured out how to move properly. My cramping hands clawed and yanked at whatever they could, digging into and tearing apart what felt like rotten tropical fruit and their dense pits. My legs turned to useless anchors, each kick sunk me further into human composed quick sand. My desperate grip snapped apart invisible, crispy, hollow sounding bones of every shape and size. Each break was guttural and evoked more panic with each crackle and snap. I began to lose consciousness while my body was seizing and twitching every which way in vain Hail Mary attempts to grasp solid ground. I found myself painfully flopping on the rocks with my back to the water, slowly coming to, covered in tiny scrapes and tender sore spots from my getaway. Whether I was allowed to escape or somehow fought my way out didn’t matter to me. My heart was cramping and beating irregularly as I choked on my survival. My organs screamed in blasphemous unison what seemed to be my own requiem. Reality violently exploded into perspective and the godless symphony within me crumpled down and hid itself deep when someone spoke to me just out of view. “Why do you think no one else is down here Rat?” My older brother said with an unamused look on his face, tossing me my half wet towel “It’s freezing.” “Thanks.” Escaped from my chattering teeth. The entire ordeal was out of view from everyone, for better or worse. I felt unsatisfied, unsatiated, and greedy. I still didn’t understand what was happening, not that I planned on solving the jungles’ mysteries. I was just upset that the experience would end on that note. “How anticlimactic.” I found myself thinking. I fixed my jittery gaze on the infected pore, feeling a little let down. “Maybe if I stare long enough this one will open its eye as well?” I mopishly hoped. As cold as I felt, Guillermo’s words chilled my blood to its freezing point. “Unfortunately folks due to the weather, we will not be able to go snorkeling on the beach anymore, it’s not safe to be out there right now. However! As compensation for the inconvenience, we would like to offer you free food and drinks next to another Cenote you have not seen today!” I felt my heart skip a beat. It began slamming wildly against my lungs and seemed to rhythmically punch against my ribs, trying to escape. Our guide's words awoke a passionate drummer. I hadn't the smallest shed of an inkling the fellow lived in my cavernous, empty chest. Ecstatic is an understatement for the feeling of fullness that rose out of my quaking core after hearing the words of this beautiful messenger from God. The rest of the group unanimously decided this was a fair alternative to snorkeling as we had been walking and driving from place to place all day, a moment to relax sounded appealing. So onto Guillermo’s chariot we climbed, and down the winding hallway through the thick greenery our steed shambled. • • • The sky opened once again and our star began its thankless work of redistributing excess moisture throughout the air. A small squeaky clean cocktail cart struggled through the uneven terrain towards us, the sound of expensive bottles burst the ambient lullaby. Three overly attentive employees, dressed tightly in the compound's trademark collared white and gold uniforms, took food orders with blinding pearly whites on display. Happiness filled the clearing to its brink. Little plastic cups of pricey liquor swirled and were dumped down gullets with reckless abandon, chased with hearty and unifying laughter. The party carried on over my shoulder as I drew closer to the enigma that I hoped would deliver me. A 15 foot cliff rose above a pleasantly blue homogeneous waterhole. The color attempted to conceal the ground. From the precipice I was perched, I could tell I would never be able to reach the deepest depths here. Even if I dove head first and swam with ferocity downward, my lungs would burst before I touched limestone. So I did. Without giving it a second consideration, I flattened my body into the shape of a sharp pencil, my feet being the point, and plummeted toward my target. I intended to pierce the writhing digit with the weight of the world pulling me towards itself. As the muffling pressure swallowed me whole and halted gravity’s acceleration, I flipped upside down and began descending further. Having ripped and kicked through three armfuls of azure, I opened my eyes and had to force my breath from escaping as I took in a jaw dropping sight. All around me as far as I could see in the darkening blue, were gleaming specks of every color and blinding gold bits, slowly drifting into the infinite void extending forever and ever right over my inverted gaze. 360 degrees around me, bedazzling the clear heavens over my feet and blue murk below, intricately worked pieces of gold and loose precious gems drifted lazily one after another. My forceful descent was halted in its bubbly tracks, my jaw wanted so bad to slack in awe. Enough wits remained about me to know better. Every second I was suspended felt stretched into muddled millennia. Such vast amounts of time, holding separative power immeasurable on our metrics, made the concept begin to lose any concrete structure. The mouth I felt trapped in seemed to be passing back and forth over my soul with tastebuds the size of our bus, deciding if I tasted good or not. Every so often, a loud, commanding thump resonated through this microcosm. Every loose, forgotten piece stuck here, forever sinking deeper in formless aggregate, shook in perfect unison. All negative emotions melted away, dissolving into molten time. I was sinking much slower than all that glittered around me. I had no desire to move any muscles other than those in my neck in order to gulp as much as my greedy eyes could swallow. I blinked one too many times, and someone flipped the display off. I felt dizzy as the world around me seemed to instantaneously be walled off. As quickly as the show was shut down, my heart became aware of its extreme lack of fresh air. BOOM One… CRACK Two… SPLASH Three… Four… Five, six… Seven… Eight, nine and ten… Ten explosions burst one after the other. Cutting through mortar blasts all around me, my failing organs resumed their requiem while questionably clean water blasted against and past my bare eyes. I was 25 feet below the surface. I consider myself an exceptional swimmer, but exhaustion working with suffocation against my new goal of oxygen, caused this short distance to be the most strenuous task in my life to date. I emerged like a new born beast, startling the refreshed ten people who had jumped in while I was below. “What the-?!” “We didn’t even see you in here!” “We thought you were on a walk!” “Are you okay? Did anyone land on you?” People all around me, half amused, half confused, all talked at once at my shut ears. I didn’t respond. I took a few deep breaths before pushing my head into the cenote and diving as if I was a, one of one, fresh water sperm whale species. All there was in the gradient, were legs kicking against the invisible pull Earth produced. Frustration flickered again. It was these people’s fault. If they hadn’t jumped in, I’d still be down in my personal solar system. I began my angry ascent, and repeated variations of that same thought over and over. If they hadn’t jumped in, I’d still be down there. The weight of my outlandish fervor tethered itself to reality, almost pulling me to the untouchable ground like a boulder tied to my wrists. In my brief moment of clarity, the unnoticeable spell I was under petrified me. I surfaced, through catching my breath I responded to the 20 eyes coalesced on me, “Ya I’m fine, I thought I saw an iPhone down there. I can’t hold my breath long enough to touch the floor so it’ll rest there forever I guess. Haha!” “Really? I want to try!” My sister cheered. “If I grab it first, it’s mine, Rat.” My brother proposed. Both dove, my new drummer friend let loose between my ears waiting for them to come back up. 10 grueling seconds dug razor sharp claws over my whole body. splash “There’s nothing down there Rat.” My sister threw her words at me like a primitive spear. “I saw something down there.” My brother solemnly shared. “What? What did you see? Tell me.” I feverishly responded. “A ghost.” My heart sank as I was on the brink of having a conniption. “Here it comes!” He said with a firm push on the water in front of him, moving him back a foot. Tears were about to spill over my face. Pbbbt Bubbles rose behind him. He burst into obnoxious laughter. Deciding between rage and relief, a smile crept onto my face. I splashed water into his face and momentarily forgot how close I was to browning the water. “Last call for food and drink orders!” Guillermo called like a caring mother from the precipice above. I knew we would definitely not be seeing anymore cenotes, and with my brother's age old prank, hunger tore into my guts. I joined the remainder of my group and ordered half the menu. I did my absolute best to push this experience deep into the recesses of my mind for the remainder of the vacation. It was effortless at first, but the seed sneakily stuck onto my soul had yet to bear fruit. Upon my return to Arizona, roots festered within. • • • It started harmlessly enough with pleasant dreams of being around or in a cenote. Backstroking in warm water, only to wake slick in my own self produced pond, the sheets revealing a dark, wet outline extending several inches past where my motionless body laid. Each dream showed me a different site. Sites I hadn’t seen with my own two eyes. If I dreamt the same place, the most notable difference was the color of the ponds. Clear, brown, red, blue, green, gold, and gray were all hues I witnessed. On rare occasions it was nighttime or cloudy out, but it was perfectly sunny and warm for the most part. As the visions increased in intensity and quantity, my sleep felt less and less restful. No matter how many hours I laid unconscious, I arose ever more tired. Anxiety blossomed and rapidly spread over my existence starting from the crown of my head to the round points of my feet that keep me rooted and upright. Every new room I stepped into brought panic and a heart pounding sense of atmospheric pressure closing in on all sides. Standing or sitting in a room with people plunged me in cold sweat. The safest, most relaxing place I could be was in my room. I chose to build and reinforce the cage that grew smaller on its own every day. My chrysalis felt incomplete, empty, and dead. I manically searched my family home for anything I could assimilate into my cocoon to bring any sense of comfort. Maybe a forgotten drawing, an old picture of myself, a dusty toy I used to play with, an old gaming console I used to sit with for hours, dvd’s I grew up watching, anything. Sitting on a windowsill, dusted in skin flakes, dog dander, hair, and dirt, sat a sight for desperate, bloodshot eyes. A healthy, poorly maintained, hydroponic bamboo plant from Ikea. My manically pulsing heart slowed ever so slightly and my skin grew tiny little bumps of excitement all over. I was barely hanging onto my job at this point, my lack of sleep and overarching sense of fear, discomfort, inability to focus, paranoia, and ostracism sent my performance six feet into worm wiggling earth. I grew angry with no outlet. I wanted to shut the world out more every day. I was furious that I had fallen for this trap. Fuming that I had swallowed these things carefully laid bait. Hook, line, and sinker, I could feel the rod tightening inch by inch, hour by hour and it enraged me. I know after thrashing in the soup for as long as I can, I will be pulled in, floating lifelessly on my side. I’m going to be scooped up in a net to be bled, gutted, descaled, cooked with aromatics and butter before my bones will be tossed somewhere into Mother Nature. It all melted away for a second as I grabbed the bamboo’s water stained vase and brought it into my bedroom. Gingerly placing the young bamboo plant I named Bo on my nightstand, I promptly fell into the deepest slumber I had in the three months since my vacation to those god forsaken, infected appendages littered across that hallowed swathe of foliage. My dream that night followed a group's expedition unto a distant, foreign land where rumors claim treasures sat in pools of enchanted water. Grottos brimmed with prosperity eternal. Righteous gods laid claim and rewarded those who were devout. Through an echo of the distant past, I saw 5 men. Four including myself were rapidly scouring the floor of what I call “the infected pore” cenote. Two were standing on stone platforms around the waters edge holding large leather bags in one hand and grabbing dripping gold jewelry from us four with the other. I used both hands to sift through brown sludge, pulling anything solid to the surface. My hands filled up with ounce after ounce of pure gold jewelry when I heard five air cutting, ephemeral whistles preceding five ugly thuds, crescendoing into two synchronized splashes. The sinkhole, clouded with brown sediment, was being taken over by crimson. Five bodies laid face down, small bubbles escaped their agape mouths in neat columns. My looting party adorned skewers, the chiseled flint tips were safely tucked away between hemispheres of gray matter. Their last moments overflowed with greed and misguided fervor. They appeared peaceful, as if snorkeling, before being obscured by the slurry of color fighting for dominance. I raised my hands in surrender. Heavy gold rings, anklets, bracelets, and head pieces tumbled from my grasp, splashing into colorful murk all around me. Surrounded by bow-wielding people speaking a different language than me, a sharp whistle somewhere behind me woke me from the hazy memory that didn't belong to me. I felt rested. • • • Another restless month dragged me by my hair before I lost my job. “Lack of motivation.” They told me. Depression and anxiety became screaming monkeys on my back. My parents could tell and told me to take all the time I needed to recover. I had some savings meant for moving out and a new car, dipping into that nest egg would be a small price to pay for my sanity we figured. Therapy begat none. Medication was a bust. Change of lifestyle; wasted energy. The sleeping visions were none existent. Thinking back to what worked last time, I got abstract and bought three house plants for my bedroom, desperate to wake up feeling like I actually rested. One more bamboo plant and two leafy ficus. I threw my nightly handful of Benadryl, sleeping pills, and melatonin down before wrapping my shaky body in dank blankets and shutting my eyes, trying to ignore the constant hot claminess persistently stuck to my skin. My vision was overtaken by buzzing gold light, my lactic acid filled muscles faded into bright holiness. As I became aware of it, something snapped its fingers, my body returned and collapsed onto unforgiving wood floor, my dark sunken eyes honed their stabby, tired look with purpose of their own, onto a hanging dogwood cross with inlaid gold seams. A precious gift left to me by my grandparents. I felt limp enough to sink through the ground. In my priceless newly returned clarity, I went out and bought three gallons of gold paint, two green, and ten more leafy friends. Over the course of two headache filled, sleepless days, I began by laying brown butcher paper over my entire floor and moving everything out of my room. Every supply I needed was lying around the house somewhere, I just needed to ask permission. At his wits end of how to help, my project went unopposed by my dad. I carefully covered my bedroom’s white trim in blue painters tape and furiously spread glossy gold paint evenly over every wall and the ceiling. Before it had dried, I dipped my hands in green paint to abstractly throw globs into the rough shape of bushes and trees. Once I felt satisfied with the ratio, I fell onto my butt and gave myself a much needed break. I spread eagle with hands that grew encrusted in paint and passed out. I was walking through the jungle, trees moved aside with every step I took forward. My path was lined in puny solid gold crucifixes, 2x1 inches, protruding perfectly vertical from hallowed dirt. The further I walked, the distance between crosses grew larger. I wasn’t far from someone standing with their hands comfortably resting behind their back. It was Guillermo, bearing his overly toothy smile and jubilation lined eyes. The photographer hid out of view, constantly sending bright flashes at us with a mechanical click and frantic scurry to capture as many angels as possible. Guillermo extended both arms as if to embrace me. I raised my own, only to see filthy, false jungle green hands rise from the bottom of my vision. His face contorted into a hideous frown before he pushed me firmly to the floor. Refreshed and wide awake, I became aware of my hands painfully tightened around the dogwood cross that I had stored in the next room over with all my other belongings. It was covered in green paint from my hands. The sudden sensation of unimaginable filth blasted into my cocoon. I opened my window to let the blistering Arizona air in. I ran to the bathroom I share with my brother to cleanse my body and heirloom in steamy, sudsy water. With my whole body red from scrubbing with a loofah, I began deep cleaning my pseudo wilderness. I tore the now brown-green paper from the ground, pulled off the half gold painters tape, moved my 14 leafy plants all around the room's edge, and decided I didn’t need any of my furniture. Not even my bed, I replaced it with an open sleeping bag. Every night before laying to rest, I watered all 14, the humidity was almost thick enough to sustain a fish. The remainder of my nest egg was thrown at pure gold jewelry, ordered online from my sparklingly clean cocoon. 10 rings, 4 bracelets, 3 delicate necklaces, and a crown bedazzled in lab grown emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and amethysts. I spent day and night obsessively dusting and pruning my chlorophyll family and laying motionless on the hard ground in my silent bedroom, hoping and praying to greet Guillermo on his home turf through my restless visions. I never took my jewelry off, even to shower three times a day. The incessant stickiness growing through my pores drove me mad and made me feel utterly filthy. I washed my hands and face over 20 times a day. My family looks at me sideways. I don’t care anymore. We are currently in Mexico City to celebrate Day of the Dead. I haven’t told any of them yet, but I plan on staying here. I have my eyes set on a new job. submitted by /u/Derick_Mtz to r/writers [link] [comments]

The sauna we were calling a bus slowly bounced down a crude path forcefully etched into the skin of Earth by journeys no different than this one. My lazy gaze was fixed on unending scenery drifting by, hoping to catch a glimpse of monkeys or an elusive jaguar whose predecessors dominated these smothering trees with unchecked ferocity. This section of untamed jungle is rich in ancient history and superstition, something our guide blabbed on about all day. “Okay folks!” Guillermo shouted, gyroscopically standing at the front, wearing the exact Cheshire smile he had on at the main building complex. His white uniform, accented with gold appointments, had no visible perspiration as he addressed this bus of slick and gummy people. “We are about to reach the “Well of Sacrifice” The largest and most religiously significant cenote in ancient Mayan civilization! Countless people were decapitated and thrown down into this exact cenote! The Mayan people who called this tropical paradise home, believed cenotes were portals to the underworld! Sacrifices had the exciting pleasure of being adorned in dazzling precious gemstones and as much gold as physically possible to appease their gods!” Thin chuckles rotated against Guillermo’s dry sarcasm in the moist air. My body was just going through the motions all day from activity to activity, it was difficult to focus on anything other than how increasingly sticky, hungry, and thirsty I was becoming. Sitting in a pool of myself, I tried to picture what water holding an unknown amount of damned souls could look like. • • • My herd meandered up a steep hill, exchanging pleasantries while I rushed upwards to get my eyes on this historic site as fast as I could. It was truly breathtaking. A deep, round pit in the crusty shell of our planet was filled a third of the way to the top with fresh, deeply saturated, blue liquid. The unrelenting jungle was desperately trying its best to reclaim the exposed stone from all angels. Vines and roots grew over each other, reaching down from every direction with a slow, deliberate, unseen might that ached to graze the water's surface. I couldn’t see the lowest point, it is and always will be covered in what remains of headless bodies, rotted away by the fourth dimension. My mind struggled to grasp the mud's depth, it certainly was bountiful enough to coat the entire exposed bottom. The primeval, siren call of fauna and flora fizzled from my ear canals decibal by decibal. I would not have moved my eyes away to behold Rapture; not even the jaguar I was searching for all day. I was staring into one of Earth’s pupils and I felt her looking back with curiosity and longing matching my own. I imagined she would blink her dark blue, all seeing appendage any second, naming me the victor of our impromptu competition of visual prowess. Giddy vacationer banter broke the spell cast on me. They finally reached the precipice and were looking at the grandeur before us that mother nature carved into her own physique. We were only sightseeing here, at the next site, we got to swim. More than eager to hurry back into our personal brazen bull on wheels to be driven to our ancient and heavenly relief, we departed. No one commented on it. No one seemed to notice someone or something staring up from down in that murk. Every hair on my body standing at attention, trying my best to brush it off, I told myself the clingy heat and dehydration were getting to me. I was absolutely elated for the first time that day. Crammed in a decrepit steam room, trudging through tightly and unevenly packed trails below our smelly feet, bumping sticky legs with the person next to me, I was smiling damn near ear to ear. • • • I was among the first three to arrive at our next pit stop after a short drive and hike through the labyrinthine foliage. Our flock was busy snapping photos of every bright spider in its mesmerizing web or lone wolf flower along our path. Guillermo chatted under his breath and laughed whole heartedly with the matching photographer that silently documented, and later sold to us, the day's adventure. A trillion imprisoned drops of precipitation huddled together amassing a volume ⅓ of the Well of Sacrifice’s. The digit hid its gaze, if it had one. Fresh, emerald green and cloudy, the true depth evaded my focused robotic-like analysis of what was before me. I convinced myself with desperate ease the green lagoon was filled with innocuous leaves, twigs, and dirt. Teeming with just as much, if not more life than the last cenote, the stranded pond harmonized along eerie notes sung by the lively jungle symphony, I could practically see the air vibrating. “Folks!” Might as well be his catchphrase at this point. “Who’s first?” Guillermo said with a smile seeming to stretch all the way around his head. One limp hand rested on the smooth metal handle bar of an old mossy zipline. No one dared make an audible peep or sudden move. “Me.” I blurted out to my own surprise, not wanting to sweat anymore and still feeling the liquid confidence of tequila tasting earlier in the day. “Can I do a backflip?” “Hah!” Guillermo gaffawed from the bottom of his soul “If you know what you are doing! Sure! I'll shout and let you know when to let go of the handle bars!” I have no idea what possessed me to decide I was capable of such a feat, considering my first zipline experience was earlier that same day. Regardless, I took a confident step off the thirty foot high cliff, and went zooming toward cool relief. “Let go!” I mustered all my force to throw an imaginary bowling ball over my head and pull my knees into my chest, ready for the water's enchanting embrace. Amidst my air borne flails, reminiscent of a baby bird jumping out of its nest for the first time, I thought I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a toothy grin and a set of evilly joyful eyes tightened to waning crescents with sheer jubilation, far below where I was about to land. With an unexpected stinging force, my back broke the serene appearing surface of the perfectly still snapshot in paradise. slap My attention was split between the over joyed face I certainly had hallucinated in my dehydrated, epinephrine filled delirium and the embarrassment of falling off of that tall ledge in such a manner. I collected myself as best I could in the moment to turn back toward the cliff I just plummeted from to see the group staring at me, holding their laughter behind tightened cheeks and balled fists. “The water is perfect!” I exclaimed while shooting a thumb up, my face hot and still managing to sweat. A sense of uncertainty continuously nipped at my toes while I treaded in water that could be 150 feet deep for all I knew. My family was ziplining in with much more grace than me as I swam around, my embarrassment faded with my tight muscles relaxing. The beautifully green hued heterogeneous mixture was a checkerboard of perfectly warm and teeth chatteringly cold spots, I searched hard to find a comfortable spot to float on. I found my resting place thirty five feet away from laughter and playful splashing. Under a tree growing over prehistoric rainfall, sounds of lapping hydration ever so gently echoed off two stone walls eroded smoothly together, and the same flippant solution that set my skin ablaze now apologetically kissed at my fiery back. I began to close my eyes while floating on my back. Before they had shut completely, the cenote I was comfortably bobbing in, solidified around me. I felt as if I was instantly assimilated into the world's biggest bowl of jell-o. In the darkness, I was resting on a bed that doesn't exist anywhere on this green and blue planet. A bespoke embrace manifested for me and me alone. I felt an alluring vibration, creeping into every cell of my body, coaxing me to sink further. I counted one second in this divine blob before I was struck from the depths below by a lightning bolt composed of peace, belonging, and tranquility touching my mind, body and soul in a divine way I thought only happened to people in the Bible. I didn’t have a brain anymore. Reduced to pure energy, my earthly suit was zapped away from me. It was somewhere close by, just in case I needed it, I couldn’t tell where. I didn’t care where. In second three, voices I knew better than my own echoed biomes away. Voices I couldn’t quite make out but felt instinctually familiar with. “We know you are faking!” “Derick!” “We are going to leave you here!” “Derick!” “Wake up!” Crash Spat out into the damp jungle, forcefully shoved back into my terrestrial constraints, my eyes shot open. I gasped for air while thrashing like someone who never touched water before. My eyes struggled to adjust to the cluttered landscape around me as my brain tried to make sense of being inside flesh and bone again. In the adrenaline charged panic, my eyes were able to make out my dad at the opposite end of the water swimming towards me, and my mom stood at the water's edge behind him. The entire group was nowhere to be seen. My brain felt like warm pudding sloshing around my head, coating the walls and clumping in soft, irregular pieces while I was trying to learn how to swim again right on the spot. My dad treaded in place as embers of life crackled deep within my eye sockets. “Haha, good nap? Don’t worry we all kept our eyes on you and made sure you didn't drown. We thought you were faking at the end! We figured you needed the rest.” My dad cheerfully shared as I began moving out of the water like a zombie, not forming any real thoughts yet. His words orbited my head in a figure eight pattern, repeatedly echoing into one ear and out the other. “Come on nene, it's time to go to the next cenote. I brought you a towel.” My moms loving words bounced around my cranium like a jumping bean that escaped a black hole, somehow begrudgingly surviving the trip through our dense atmosphere to bore itself within my chowder-filled head. I dragged my haggard self between the creaky walls and oblivious vacationers. Collapsing into the first open seat I could find, I finally had a second to think about what on God's green earth I just bore witness to against my will. My still squishy mind spun and contorted in countless directions. I felt like a scientist who made a new discovery. The group yapped on about this and that while I silently spiraled. Trying hard not to question my sanity, I focused on what I knew to be true. We were rapidly approaching the next Cenote. • • • This site was different in almost every way than the first, being completely underground. Crude stone steps abstractly coated in moss and slippery slime, carved by god knows who, led forty feet into brittle earth revealing a damp, dimly lit cavern. Scant rays of light shone lackadaisically through a man made hole in the ceiling, deliberately centered above a round stone platform in the middle of the pond. Darting iridescent fish, no longer than your pinky, caught diluted light for fractions of seconds, creating a dazzling treat my eyes ate up from the lack-luster pond. Energy of ancient rites felt trapped in this perpetually wet, limestone relic of the past. The dank air felt charged to the point that I reasoned, if I squinted hard enough, I might be able to see the ghosts of my ancestors, splashing, celebrating, and laughing like there would be no tomorrow for them. The wise, primordial bond of hydrogen and oxygen rose only to my waist, save for a small area directly in front of the round platform, deep enough for people to safely jump into. As much as my pupils struggled to dilate to the correct size, my gaze effortlessly shattered through the glass-like ecosystem. Every piece of gravel or anxiety riddled guppy calling this place home in plain view. Opting to walk in rather than cannonballing into this precious piece of history, my senses were sharp enough to register in the tens on the BESS scale as I waded through mother nature’s warm lifeblood. Fat chance I would close my eyes this time, if something were to happen, I wanted to be able to really take it all in. These refreshing, hallowed bodies trapped in this expansive cave system were feeling ever more intricate by the minute. I waded through the water housing curious inhabitants, waiting, listening. 5 minutes… 10 minutes… 20 minutes… My sense of discovery and wonder was replaced by unbridled child-like frustration. My heart revved toward its physical limit rapidly and angrily, and with furious purpose. I wanted to scream until the escaping vibrations shook the next micro-ecosystem over. How dare I let myself fall for my own whimsical dreams and belief that something special was reaching into my stiff life and shaking with no intention of stopping. Clearly, I was dehydrated to the point of delirium and delusion. Somewhere during the day a neon spider must have hitched a ride and left its puny, vampiric mark behind. Exhaustion combined with supernatural beliefs being fed to me all day resulted in a strange dream. Reason arrogantly and aggressively usurped the helm of my cognition out of whimsy’s delicate grip. I decided it was time to sulk on my own for the remaining minutes we would be inside what now felt like a claustrophobic tourist destination. I shambled exaggeratedly out of liquid crystal, moving like a geriatric soul trapped in a young body. My knees buckled out from under me for a millisecond when the water was down to my ankles. Something shocked my feet with a tiny current; the sensation you get from trick pieces of chewing gum that tingle your fingers. Not exactly painful, certainly not pleasant. The alluring call of relaxation returned, riding a cool, refreshing breeze, trying to make its way onto the dance floor with my soul from what seemed like three musty chambers away. I wanted it to rend my existence once more. One for the road. I caught my tired body before I collapsed into jagged pebble peppered stone and almost let a crooked laugh escape my sandy throat. “So I'm not going mad!” I thought to myself. I shifted my weight backwards to let the pool envelope me, swimming quietly on my red back towards the circle my family formed. I did my best to tune out their incessant waffling that could potentially be overpowering any noise being made for me. I flipped over onto my feet and forcefully injected myself into their joyous conversation, “Do you guys hear that?” Conversation fell dead in the water, everyone listened, shook their heads no and began tossing gab’s dripping corpse between each other again. “Okay folks let’s head back to the bus and get going to the last Cenote of the day!” Guillermo’s voice blasted through the stone grotto like dynamite. The white noise bubbling in humid air ceased as soon as his first syllable rebounded against gray-green rock. I was absolutely frothing to be on our way, the rest of my family however was dragging their feet literally and figuratively. • • • It began to rain lightly, sucking any shred of morale further into the soft dirt beneath our blistering toes. No one really wanted to be there other than me, but it was part of the day's plan so Guillermo would make sure we completed his entire itinerary if it was his heroic martyr. Seventeen people sought refuge around dusty plastic tables under tired and sun bleached umbrellas. This seemingly forgotten pore on the complexion of our planet was hardly a sight to behold, it seemed completely devoid of life. No visible moss or fish and no trees or vines grew around the edges. No colorful iris juxtaposed my damp wood colored stare. Crystal clear hydration from heaven revealed every crack and crevice below. This ”cenote” stood completely alone, not connecting to the main cave system of the area like almost all do. Curiosity was getting the cat’s goat as I made my lonesome way down a staircase slippery in cold rain, leading to one of three rock platforms around this jagged kettle that seemed to boil under the sky's pressure relieving release. I planned to jump in with my eyes closed to, hopefully, get the full experience from the get-go. With no one trying to keep their hair dry near me, why not have a little fun with it? No matter how big of a splash I made, no one was anywhere close enough to get caught in the fallout. “Cannonball!” Echoed through the porous sponge that was temporarily taking my brains place as I curled into a ball and hurled myself into the abyss, ready to soak up whatever I would be placed in. Splash I reached the deepest point of my trajectory, gentle resistance brought my body to a halt. Everything was wrong. Liquid that universally will acquiesce to its container grew a thousand rounded points that poked and prodded into every part of my body. Where there was once enough resistance to propel myself upwards, was now a shifting slurry of pokey elbows and boney knees, all writhing over one another, fruitlessly and eternally searching for the surface. The abnormal chill of my environment sucked away my breath in half a heartbeat. My brain entered full fledged fight or flight mode, moving me with no input of my own. Primal fear lodged one action and one word into every muscle I have; ESCAPE. Even with my frenzied eyes forced to full moons, all I saw was black, there was no waters edge to be moving toward even if I figured out how to move properly. My cramping hands clawed and yanked at whatever they could, digging into and tearing apart what felt like rotten tropical fruit and their dense pits. My legs turned to useless anchors, each kick sunk me further into human composed quick sand. My desperate grip snapped apart invisible, crispy, hollow sounding bones of every shape and size. Each break was guttural and evoked more panic with each crackle and snap. I began to lose consciousness while my body was seizing and twitching every which way in vain Hail Mary attempts to grasp solid ground. I found myself painfully flopping on the rocks with my back to the water, slowly coming to, covered in tiny scrapes and tender sore spots from my getaway. Whether I was allowed to escape or somehow fought my way out didn’t matter to me. My heart was cramping and beating irregularly as I choked on my survival. My organs screamed in blasphemous unison what seemed to be my own requiem. Reality violently exploded into perspective and the godless symphony within me crumpled down and hid itself deep when someone spoke to me just out of view. “Why do you think no one else is down here Rat?” My older brother said with an unamused look on his face, tossing me my half wet towel “It’s freezing.” “Thanks.” Escaped from my chattering teeth. The entire ordeal was out of view from everyone, for better or worse. I felt unsatisfied, unsatiated, and greedy. I still didn’t understand what was happening, not that I planned on solving the jungles’ mysteries. I was just upset that the experience would end on that note. “How anticlimactic.” I found myself thinking. I fixed my jittery gaze on the infected pore, feeling a little let down. “Maybe if I stare long enough this one will open its eye as well?” I mopishly hoped. As cold as I felt, Guillermo’s words chilled my blood to its freezing point. “Unfortunately folks due to the weather, we will not be able to go snorkeling on the beach anymore, it’s not safe to be out there right now. However! As compensation for the inconvenience, we would like to offer you free food and drinks next to another Cenote you have not seen today!” I felt my heart skip a beat. It began slamming wildly against my lungs and seemed to rhythmically punch against my ribs, trying to escape. Our guide's words awoke a passionate drummer. I hadn't the smallest shed of an inkling the fellow lived in my cavernous, empty chest. Ecstatic is an understatement for the feeling of fullness that rose out of my quaking core after hearing the words of this beautiful messenger from God. The rest of the group unanimously decided this was a fair alternative to snorkeling as we had been walking and driving from place to place all day, a moment to relax sounded appealing. So onto Guillermo’s chariot we climbed, and down the winding hallway through the thick greenery our steed shambled. • • • The sky opened once again and our star began its thankless work of redistributing excess moisture throughout the air. A small squeaky clean cocktail cart struggled through the uneven terrain towards us, the sound of expensive bottles burst the ambient lullaby. Three overly attentive employees, dressed tightly in the compound's trademark collared white and gold uniforms, took food orders with blinding pearly whites on display. Happiness filled the clearing to its brink. Little plastic cups of pricey liquor swirled and were dumped down gullets with reckless abandon, chased with hearty and unifying laughter. The party carried on over my shoulder as I drew closer to the enigma that I hoped would deliver me. A 15 foot cliff rose above a pleasantly blue homogeneous waterhole. The color attempted to conceal the ground. From the precipice I was perched, I could tell I would never be able to reach the deepest depths here. Even if I dove head first and swam with ferocity downward, my lungs would burst before I touched limestone. So I did. Without giving it a second consideration, I flattened my body into the shape of a sharp pencil, my feet being the point, and plummeted toward my target. I intended to pierce the writhing digit with the weight of the world pulling me towards itself. As the muffling pressure swallowed me whole and halted gravity’s acceleration, I flipped upside down and began descending further. Having ripped and kicked through three armfuls of azure, I opened my eyes and had to force my breath from escaping as I took in a jaw dropping sight. All around me as far as I could see in the darkening blue, were gleaming specks of every color and blinding gold bits, slowly drifting into the infinite void extending forever and ever right over my inverted gaze. 360 degrees around me, bedazzling the clear heavens over my feet and blue murk below, intricately worked pieces of gold and loose precious gems drifted lazily one after another. My forceful descent was halted in its bubbly tracks, my jaw wanted so bad to slack in awe. Enough wits remained about me to know better. Every second I was suspended felt stretched into muddled millennia. Such vast amounts of time, holding separative power immeasurable on our metrics, made the concept begin to lose any concrete structure. The mouth I felt trapped in seemed to be passing back and forth over my soul with tastebuds the size of our bus, deciding if I tasted good or not. Every so often, a loud, commanding thump resonated through this microcosm. Every loose, forgotten piece stuck here, forever sinking deeper in formless aggregate, shook in perfect unison. All negative emotions melted away, dissolving into molten time. I was sinking much slower than all that glittered around me. I had no desire to move any muscles other than those in my neck in order to gulp as much as my greedy eyes could swallow. I blinked one too many times, and someone flipped the display off. I felt dizzy as the world around me seemed to instantaneously be walled off. As quickly as the show was shut down, my heart became aware of its extreme lack of fresh air. BOOM One… CRACK Two… SPLASH Three… Four… Five, six… Seven… Eight, nine and ten… Ten explosions burst one after the other. Cutting through mortar blasts all around me, my failing organs resumed their requiem while questionably clean water blasted against and past my bare eyes. I was 25 feet below the surface. I consider myself an exceptional swimmer, but exhaustion working with suffocation against my new goal of oxygen, caused this short distance to be the most strenuous task in my life to date. I emerged like a new born beast, startling the refreshed ten people who had jumped in while I was below. “What the-?!” “We didn’t even see you in here!” “We thought you were on a walk!” “Are you okay? Did anyone land on you?” People all around me, half amused, half confused, all talked at once at my shut ears. I didn’t respond. I took a few deep breaths before pushing my head into the cenote and diving as if I was a, one of one, fresh water sperm whale species. All there was in the gradient, were legs kicking against the invisible pull Earth produced. Frustration flickered again. It was these people’s fault. If they hadn’t jumped in, I’d still be down in my personal solar system. I began my angry ascent, and repeated variations of that same thought over and over. If they hadn’t jumped in, I’d still be down there. The weight of my outlandish fervor tethered itself to reality, almost pulling me to the untouchable ground like a boulder tied to my wrists. In my brief moment of clarity, the unnoticeable spell I was under petrified me. I surfaced, through catching my breath I responded to the 20 eyes coalesced on me, “Ya I’m fine, I thought I saw an iPhone down there. I can’t hold my breath long enough to touch the floor so it’ll rest there forever I guess. Haha!” “Really? I want to try!” My sister cheered. “If I grab it first, it’s mine, Rat.” My brother proposed. Both dove, my new drummer friend let loose between my ears waiting for them to come back up. 10 grueling seconds dug razor sharp claws over my whole body. splash “There’s nothing down there Rat.” My sister threw her words at me like a primitive spear. “I saw something down there.” My brother solemnly shared. “What? What did you see? Tell me.” I feverishly responded. “A ghost.” My heart sank as I was on the brink of having a conniption. “Here it comes!” He said with a firm push on the water in front of him, moving him back a foot. Tears were about to spill over my face. Pbbbt Bubbles rose behind him. He burst into obnoxious laughter. Deciding between rage and relief, a smile crept onto my face. I splashed water into his face and momentarily forgot how close I was to browning the water. “Last call for food and drink orders!” Guillermo called like a caring mother from the precipice above. I knew we would definitely not be seeing anymore cenotes, and with my brother's age old prank, hunger tore into my guts. I joined the remainder of my group and ordered half the menu. I did my absolute best to push this experience deep into the recesses of my mind for the remainder of the vacation. It was effortless at first, but the seed sneakily stuck onto my soul had yet to bear fruit. Upon my return to Arizona, roots festered within. • • • It started harmlessly enough with pleasant dreams of being around or in a cenote. Backstroking in warm water, only to wake slick in my own self produced pond, the sheets revealing a dark, wet outline extending several inches past where my motionless body laid. Each dream showed me a different site. Sites I hadn’t seen with my own two eyes. If I dreamt the same place, the most notable difference was the color of the ponds. Clear, brown, red, blue, green, gold, and gray were all hues I witnessed. On rare occasions it was nighttime or cloudy out, but it was perfectly sunny and warm for the most part. As the visions increased in intensity and quantity, my sleep felt less and less restful. No matter how many hours I laid unconscious, I arose ever more tired. Anxiety blossomed and rapidly spread over my existence starting from the crown of my head to the round points of my feet that keep me rooted and upright. Every new room I stepped into brought panic and a heart pounding sense of atmospheric pressure closing in on all sides. Standing or sitting in a room with people plunged me in cold sweat. The safest, most relaxing place I could be was in my room. I chose to build and reinforce the cage that grew smaller on its own every day. My chrysalis felt incomplete, empty, and dead. I manically searched my family home for anything I could assimilate into my cocoon to bring any sense of comfort. Maybe a forgotten drawing, an old picture of myself, a dusty toy I used to play with, an old gaming console I used to sit with for hours, dvd’s I grew up watching, anything. Sitting on a windowsill, dusted in skin flakes, dog dander, hair, and dirt, sat a sight for desperate, bloodshot eyes. A healthy, poorly maintained, hydroponic bamboo plant from Ikea. My manically pulsing heart slowed ever so slightly and my skin grew tiny little bumps of excitement all over. I was barely hanging onto my job at this point, my lack of sleep and overarching sense of fear, discomfort, inability to focus, paranoia, and ostracism sent my performance six feet into worm wiggling earth. I grew angry with no outlet. I wanted to shut the world out more every day. I was furious that I had fallen for this trap. Fuming that I had swallowed these things carefully laid bait. Hook, line, and sinker, I could feel the rod tightening inch by inch, hour by hour and it enraged me. I know after thrashing in the soup for as long as I can, I will be pulled in, floating lifelessly on my side. I’m going to be scooped up in a net to be bled, gutted, descaled, cooked with aromatics and butter before my bones will be tossed somewhere into Mother Nature. It all melted away for a second as I grabbed the bamboo’s water stained vase and brought it into my bedroom. Gingerly placing the young bamboo plant I named Bo on my nightstand, I promptly fell into the deepest slumber I had in the three months since my vacation to those god forsaken, infected appendages littered across that hallowed swathe of foliage. My dream that night followed a group's expedition unto a distant, foreign land where rumors claim treasures sat in pools of enchanted water. Grottos brimmed with prosperity eternal. Righteous gods laid claim and rewarded those who were devout. Through an echo of the distant past, I saw 5 men. Four including myself were rapidly scouring the floor of what I call “the infected pore” cenote. Two were standing on stone platforms around the waters edge holding large leather bags in one hand and grabbing dripping gold jewelry from us four with the other. I used both hands to sift through brown sludge, pulling anything solid to the surface. My hands filled up with ounce after ounce of pure gold jewelry when I heard five air cutting, ephemeral whistles preceding five ugly thuds, crescendoing into two synchronized splashes. The sinkhole, clouded with brown sediment, was being taken over by crimson. Five bodies laid face down, small bubbles escaped their agape mouths in neat columns. My looting party adorned skewers, the chiseled flint tips were safely tucked away between hemispheres of gray matter. Their last moments overflowed with greed and misguided fervor. They appeared peaceful, as if snorkeling, before being obscured by the slurry of color fighting for dominance. I raised my hands in surrender. Heavy gold rings, anklets, bracelets, and head pieces tumbled from my grasp, splashing into colorful murk all around me. Surrounded by bow-wielding people speaking a different language than me, a sharp whistle somewhere behind me woke me from the hazy memory that didn't belong to me. I felt rested. • • • Another restless month dragged me by my hair before I lost my job. “Lack of motivation.” They told me. Depression and anxiety became screaming monkeys on my back. My parents could tell and told me to take all the time I needed to recover. I had some savings meant for moving out and a new car, dipping into that nest egg would be a small price to pay for my sanity we figured. Therapy begat none. Medication was a bust. Change of lifestyle; wasted energy. The sleeping visions were none existent. Thinking back to what worked last time, I got abstract and bought three house plants for my bedroom, desperate to wake up feeling like I actually rested. One more bamboo plant and two leafy ficus. I threw my nightly handful of Benadryl, sleeping pills, and melatonin down before wrapping my shaky body in dank blankets and shutting my eyes, trying to ignore the constant hot claminess persistently stuck to my skin. My vision was overtaken by buzzing gold light, my lactic acid filled muscles faded into bright holiness. As I became aware of it, something snapped its fingers, my body returned and collapsed onto unforgiving wood floor, my dark sunken eyes honed their stabby, tired look with purpose of their own, onto a hanging dogwood cross with inlaid gold seams. A precious gift left to me by my grandparents. I felt limp enough to sink through the ground. In my priceless newly returned clarity, I went out and bought three gallons of gold paint, two green, and ten more leafy friends. Over the course of two headache filled, sleepless days, I began by laying brown butcher paper over my entire floor and moving everything out of my room. Every supply I needed was lying around the house somewhere, I just needed to ask permission. At his wits end of how to help, my project went unopposed by my dad. I carefully covered my bedroom’s white trim in blue painters tape and furiously spread glossy gold paint evenly over every wall and the ceiling. Before it had dried, I dipped my hands in green paint to abstractly throw globs into the rough shape of bushes and trees. Once I felt satisfied with the ratio, I fell onto my butt and gave myself a much needed break. I spread eagle with hands that grew encrusted in paint and passed out. I was walking through the jungle, trees moved aside with every step I took forward. My path was lined in puny solid gold crucifixes, 2x1 inches, protruding perfectly vertical from hallowed dirt. The further I walked, the distance between crosses grew larger. I wasn’t far from someone standing with their hands comfortably resting behind their back. It was Guillermo, bearing his overly toothy smile and jubilation lined eyes. The photographer hid out of view, constantly sending bright flashes at us with a mechanical click and frantic scurry to capture as many angels as possible. Guillermo extended both arms as if to embrace me. I raised my own, only to see filthy, false jungle green hands rise from the bottom of my vision. His face contorted into a hideous frown before he pushed me firmly to the floor. Refreshed and wide awake, I became aware of my hands painfully tightened around the dogwood cross that I had stored in the next room over with all my other belongings. It was covered in green paint from my hands. The sudden sensation of unimaginable filth blasted into my cocoon. I opened my window to let the blistering Arizona air in. I ran to the bathroom I share with my brother to cleanse my body and heirloom in steamy, sudsy water. With my whole body red from scrubbing with a loofah, I began deep cleaning my pseudo wilderness. I tore the now brown-green paper from the ground, pulled off the half gold painters tape, moved my 14 leafy plants all around the room's edge, and decided I didn’t need any of my furniture. Not even my bed, I replaced it with an open sleeping bag. Every night before laying to rest, I watered all 14, the humidity was almost thick enough to sustain a fish. The remainder of my nest egg was thrown at pure gold jewelry, ordered online from my sparklingly clean cocoon. 10 rings, 4 bracelets, 3 delicate necklaces, and a crown bedazzled in lab grown emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and amethysts. I spent day and night obsessively dusting and pruning my chlorophyll family and laying motionless on the hard ground in my silent bedroom, hoping and praying to greet Guillermo on his home turf through my restless visions. I never took my jewelry off, even to shower three times a day. The incessant stickiness growing through my pores drove me mad and made me feel utterly filthy. I washed my hands and face over 20 times a day. My family looks at me sideways. I don’t care anymore. We are currently in Mexico City to celebrate Day of the Dead. I haven’t told any of them yet, but I plan on staying here. I have my eyes set on a new job. submitted by /u/Derick_Mtz to r/creepcast [link] [comments]

Arrival - Kimchi DVD - Lenticular O-Ring. The steelbook is open but never watched the movie. Comes with sealed photo card pack and also the Kimchi LE card. The lenti is clean and not blurry (Kimchi did a great job on this one) Ask for more pictures. Will be packed really well with bubble wrap. $75 + media mail shipping ($5). PayPal G&S is fine. Offers welcome. submitted by /u/saltonpretzels to r/MediaSwap [link] [comments]

Arrival - Kimchi DVD - Lenticular O-Ring. The steelbook is open but never watched the movie. Comes with sealed photo card pack and also the Kimchi LE card. The lenti is clean and not blurry (Kimchi did a great job on this one) Ask for more pictures. Will be packed really well with bubble wrap. $75 + media mail shipping ($5). PayPal G&S is fine. Offers welcome. submitted by /u/saltonpretzels to r/SteelbookSwap [link] [comments]