Martin Blackwood Was Alone (Writing based off of The Magnus Archives)

He sat so still, his breath puffing into cloudy wisps in the air. It was cold. So very cold. He shivered against the air which rushed past him, the spray of the salty sea water on his face glistening despite the clouds. The waves rolled in and out in a hypnotic rhythm he couldn’t help but stare at. He tucked his knees to his chest, tighter and tighter and tighter. It reminded him of someone. Or… did it? No. it didn’t. There was no one to remember, was there? He was alone and he always had been alone. There had never been anyone else. He had always sat at the shoreline, always stared at the beautiful grey hues of the horizon, always smelt of salt and sand and the mist had always coated him in a thin film. He’d always been this way. Hadn’t he? The fog which covered every inch of him refused to let him question this. So he sat, ever so still and orderly, and he watched the waves roll in, and out, and in, and out, over and over in that rhythmic pattern. It was the only thing the fog allowed him to see, that tunnel vision blocking his view of the space around him.

Martin Blackwood was alone.

Martin Blackwood. Was that his name? He remembered a voice, Rough and agitated and exhausted yet so very gentle, calling to him with that name, once. Or had he imagined it? Probably. He imagined a lot of things. He imagined that he had been watched by hundreds of bright green eyes piercing into him. He imagined odd tape recorders which started and stopped on their own, hungry to hear of his fears. He imagined so many people it made him sick to his stomach just to think about it. But the fog surrounding him would never let his imagination run its course for long before he would forget, and his mind would be set adrift all over again, new strange and terrifying fantasies running wild over and over. That was normal, though. Wasn’t it? Everyone lived this way. Everyone was unable to think straight and everyone stared out to the sea and everyone let themselves get lost in the fog. It was all he’d ever known.

Or was it?

There was something in the very back of his mind. The faintest memory which he was sure would slip away soon, like all the others. But he entertained it anyway. A man, with piercing eyes and far, far too many scars. He remembered the man fondly. He remembered finding those many scars beautiful and telling him so, many, many times. He remembered listening to him talk for so long and never getting sick of his voice. And there was something important about him which eluded him as the fog dug into his mind. He remembered his face so vaguely, but he could’ve sworn he had too many eyes, all in the wrong places on his face. He remembered finding it beautiful, too, just like all of his scars, and how tired his eyes were and how frail he looked. And he wanted to keep remembering the man. He wanted to remember how he’d loved him.

But as soon as the thought had started, it disappeared into the fog, floated out to sea, to maybe one day cross his mind again. But he wouldn’t remember this. He tucked his knees even tighter to his chest, tighter and tighter over and over again. It reminded him of someone. Or… did it? No. There was no one else here, there never had been. It’d always just been him. Him and the cold, bleak and beautiful ocean. The sand dug into his legs as the water began to touch him, the tide slowly coming in like it wanted to take him with it. He’d probably let it swallow him just like the fog. He’d float for as long as the water would allow him to, and then he’d sink to the seabed until he washed back up to shore. Then he’d sit just like this until the ocean took him all over again. It was how it’d always been, hadn’t it? He’d never known differently.

But there was something in his mind that made him think otherwise. A spark lighting up in the darkest corners he’d never been able to reach before. He… had been someone. He’d done things and gone places and he had lived. He’d hoped and dreamed and loved and hurt and lost and he had not for a second doubted it. But he struggled to keep his grip on this version of himself. Focusing felt like a weight so heavy that he couldn’t bear it. His reflection was a stranger he’d never met before, who also smelt of salt and sand and who couldn’t see clearly and who couldn’t focus on anything but the waves trying to take him away. And there was no one here. No one to bring him back or help him hold on to who he wished he could be again. And just as soon as it had come, these memories faded, and his mind was left to wander again like a traveller without a path.

The water had gotten closer again. It threatened to cover him entirely, soaking his clothes until his entire body stung with salt. He tucked his knees to his chest, tighter and tighter. It reminded him of someone. Or did it? No. There was no one else here. There never had been. It was just him in the foggy haze of his mind, holding himself together so tightly so that he didn’t lose himself. He could feel his shoes getting heavier on his feet as they filled with water, his socks soaked and sticking to his skin. It stung, but still he sat still and let it envelop him. The feeling brought back memories of childhood which disappeared so quickly, it was as if they were never there to begin with. He didn’t remember being a child. He only remembered what it was like the last time he had been taken out to sea. It was cold, and it was painful, but it felt secure. The water held him in place and didn’t let him go, in an empty embrace. He had floated for hours, or what felt like hours. He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing and his thoughts barely became coherent enough to think about. He hoped this would be like that.

He untucked his knees from his chest and lay down in the sand. It was rough on his back and it got stuck in his hair, but the water would wash it away soon enough. This reminded him of someone. Someone who would lay next to him in the cold darkness of the night and comfort him. Or did it? No. No one had ever done that for him. He’d always been here alone, laying in the dim light that shone through the clouds, which coated the sky in a thick layer of smoke. The water washed over his face, the salt digging into his eyes, filling his nose and mouth before it waded back out again. It stung. It really stung. But he didn’t need those anyway.

The fog surrounded him and blurred his vision against the grey sky above him as he inched closer and closer and closer to the sea. Bit by bit he was washed away, until he began to float. His thoughts became incomprehensible as he drifted and drifted in a haze of fog and darkness and water. The salt bit into him so deep it felt as if it was in his blood, and it filled his eyes until he couldn’t bear it anymore and closed them tight. The dark enveloped his vision and the only thing he could hear was the rushing water which filled his ears. He felt the stare of the stranger that was his reflection eating into his back now, keeping him afloat against the harsh yet gentle tide. This all felt right.

He took a deep breath that ended up full of sea water, and he let it out through his mouth, barely afloat. He knew he’d sink soon. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. His focus was slipping more and more with every passing second as he drifted further and further from shore, until all he could see was the ocean and the dark, cloudy sky around him. How long had he been out here for now? Days? Weeks? Months? Did time even exist here? Did he even want to think about all of that now? No. He didn’t. It just hurt his head. So he drifted and drifted through the cloudy waters, until he felt himself be pulled downwards. He put up no fight. He’d just end up right back at the shore either way. He felt the water embrace him so tightly, but it did not flood his body or drown him. It just held him as he slowly, slowly, floated downwards to the seabed. Thinking wasn’t even an option now, as he kept his eyes tightly shut. He felt he’d been here for hours.

Floating and drifting and sinking and sitting and laying… he repeated over and over and over again. It all just felt right. Like he was made just for this.