The High-Water Mark (2nd Draft)

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Why I Write  (E) An explanation of why I write as well as what I believe the purpose of writing should be. #1559875 by Matty Zink

The High-Water Mark

Enki sits along a rocky shoreline, watching the ebbing tide smash against the stones before retreating back into the sea; only to return seconds later in a futile attempt to break free.

        Perhaps it is not futile - for it is those very waves which after hundreds of years can ground mountains into sand.

As the waves retreat further back they leave tidal pools in their wake.  Millions of microorganism floating around in those little bodies of water, so pure in their innocence, the very beginning of life itself. 
         
         He draws in a deep breath, the salty air brings little comfort to his ailing lungs.  Joints pop and crack as he slowly rises from the rock. A tidal pool had formed beneath his feet, now separate from the sea as the tide went down. The white pleated robe he's wearing has become wet along its bottom edge. Using a large walking stick to support himself, he crouches down. With the other hand he scoops some of the murky water into his palm, allowing it to slide through his fingers and rejoin the pool.
         
         A simple mirror to reflect upon ourselves
         
         “You were always the poetic type Enki,” a voice calls from behind.
         
         Enki nearly topples over when turning, grasping the walking stick with both hands to sustain his frail frame.
         
      Kur

         “Why did you come here?” Enki asks.
         
         “I could easily ask you the same thing old man.”
         
         “Just leave me be, this world has no place for you.”
         
         Kur's grin reveals chipped yellow teeth.  He paces between two tidal pools, with Enki watching the movements of his deep red robe flowing around his feet.
         
         “You know I can't do that.”
         
         “I command you to leave,” Enki shouts.
         
         A storm front moves in as he speaks. The waves of the sea become larger with every passing word.
         
         “You still have some fight left in you.”
         
      I hope so.

         The wind howls between the rocks. Kur looks down upon a pool of water.
         
         “What was it you were thinking when I arrived? Something about a 'simple mirror'.  Very poetic, as I said, also very quaint.”
         
          Kur perches himself on a rock before continuing to speak.
         
         “You see, the problem is all these little creatures living in their pools, they soon forget about the sea. It doesn't take but minutes for it to happen.  Just like those beings, those despicable piles of flesh you respect so much.”
         
         “Don't speak on subjects which you have no idea.”

      "You create them, and your own creation forsakes you.  Doesn't that bother you?"

        They are not perfect.
         
         “Are you forgetting who ends their miserable existence time and time again?  It's almost becoming a bore.”
         
         “You are nothing but a mockery of my creations.”
         
         “But I am part of your creations, don't forget that.  Oh yes, the grand Enki, creator of worlds.  All bow down before him,” Kur gives a bow.

         “A mistake Kur, a terrible mistake.”

         “You see those high-water marks against the rocks,” Kur says while motioning towards them.
         
         “What of them?”
                   
         “First, I must ask you, did you used to feel that sense of inevitable victory?  You know, over all those 'evil' forces in the universe, namely myself." 

      Perhaps at one time.

      "I know you did, and I know you thought your courageous energy alone would simply prevail, but it has not. You are old and weak, just like the rock you stand beside. I am the waves, always prevalent, never ceasing to thrash against you. I may go down from time to time but I always come back. You wear out with age; I come at you with the same fierce momentum, strong as ever, never relenting.  That mark there is the place where the wave continually hits and breaks, before rolling back.  It's the many scars I've left you with.”

         The rock does not cease to exist, it merely continues on in a different form.

         Kur lets out an artificial laugh.

         “You contemptible fool.”

         Enki tightens his grip grip on the walking stick, raises it above his head and runs at Kur.  He easily grabs the stick, and uses it to force Enki to his knees. 

      "That was the move of a desperate man."

      Stop this now Kur.

      Both men stare at each other; a deafening thunder clap makes Kur loose his grip. Hitting Kur with the end of the stick weakens Enkis muscles.

      "I will never stop."

    I created you, I can destroy you.

    Kur collapses to the ground, clasping his wounded face. 

    "Then why haven't you?"

    You are part of my creation.

    He rolls on top of Kur, pressing the stick into his neck with all his remaining strength. 

    "I didn't ask to be made."

    And for that I'm sorry.

    Kur kicks Enki in the side causing him to fall on his stomach. Kur stands with the stick and raises it towards the sky.
         
         “Father, you are...”

        Son...

         A lightning bolt strikes Kur.  His body shakes violently and the ruby robe smolders as he collapses.  Enki tries to push himself up but falls down with his face in a tidal pool. He is able to roll himself over, gasping for air.  He struggles to breath, taking short quick breaths while scanning the area.

      "Is this really the end?" Kur asks. 

      No, it's only the beginning.

      Kur ignites in a ferocious blaze which envelopes him in seconds.  An explosion from within Kur sends hundreds of black diamonds into the air, only to crash back down, denting the sand and splashing the water as they land.

      Enki sticks his hand into one of the pools and with a final breath mutters one word:

      “Live.” 

      The water begins to whirl...