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The Corsair: Chapter 1

 

For years he had marveled at the group of boys who stood still atop the rocky outcropping, in defiance at the violent show of nature unfolding below them. He had watched in admiration how the spray of the sea peppered their dark figures while they nodded their heads and sang in unison. As the climax of their chant resounded in their chests, a powerful wave would smash against the cliff underneath them. The boy at the center of the group dove into the froth feetfirst, arms pinned close to his side and feet pointed like an African spear. The rest of the boys would bow down their heads and pray softly, while below them, the crashing wave retreated with the boy's body deep within its grasp. Seconds, sometimes minutes, would pass in almost total silence, the voices of the beach crowd and the crashing of the waves muffled by the intensity of expectation. At last, far away from the cliff, the head of the young boy would burst out of the water, oscillating with the rise and fall of the crests, screaming and shouting praises to the Lord. The rest of the boys would glance up, give off a relieved smile and a few goodhearted claps, and would resume their prayers. Then the boy on the water would swim back in through a distant channel in the reef that crowned the crescent shaped beach. He would join them, exchange hugs and words, and the chanting would start again, with another of the boys taking the turn to dive.

 

The diving spot was called the Corsair. Three crooked crosses painted on craggy stumps at the top of the rock waved their limbs at the kid who stood below in the sand watching in awe. The immense rock before him was not exactly tall, no more than twenty feet high, but it spread across his view like the upended hull of a pirate ship. The rock formed part of a large coral reef that shielded the entire beach from the grisly waves, allowing calm waters to form a pristine white sand beach. The reef itself would pop out of the water at seemingly arranged unifrom intervals, the last one connecting the reef to the land on one corner of the beach. This last one was the by far the largest, and in its center, facing out to the sea, was the section known as the Corsair. Above it, the ship's crew continued their chanting, and the boy in the center began to breathe deeply, preparing his lungs for the turmoil ahead. The kid watching remained standing still on the sand, surrounded by families and tourists who preferred the calm turquoise waters on the inside part of the rock. Other people were climbing the safer sections of the rock, looking out towards the endless open sea and the flocks of seagulls or inwards at the beachgoing crowd with their shiny swimsuits. He had climbed the rock millions of times, but had always avoided going anywhere near the Corsair and its curved crucifixes. No one ever did, actually, except the group of boys who stood there now. The rest of the beachgoers seemed to completely ignore them, and they in turn ignored everyone else. They came in every Sunday morning, headed directly for the Corsair, performed their ritual at noon, and left the beach promptly. In all of his entire twelve years, the kid could not remember a single Sunday ever passing without the group of young men congregating at the cliff. And in all of his twelve years, the kid had never felt such a strong desire to challenge the Corsair as he did now.

 

He finished the warm can of Pepsi he held in his hand and tossed it in a metal garbage can nearby. Striding towards the monolithic boulder, he was careful to avoid colliding into the swarms of small children with arm floaties and plastic shovels. He walked past middle aged women reading paperback novels under beach umbrellas and groups of drunk college freshmen searching frantically in their ice coolers for that last beer. The singing of the diving boys filtered through among the cacophony of the crowd, and he looked up to see one of them dive and disappear down the other side of the rock. He reached the base of the rock and began climbing its gently sloping surface.

 

The side that faced the beach, he knew, was a cinch to climb. You didn't even need to use your hands, you just had to look out to step on the smooth spots and avoid cutting your feet on the ragged sections. The side that faced the open sea, however, was another story. The waves that crashed against it had carved a steep, jagged wall into the rock, with small inlets and balconies of greenish rock highlighting the wall's length. He quickly reached the top, scanned the horizon with his eyes, and caught sight of the diving boy's head bobbing up and down on the water's surface, about a hundred feet away from the cliff. He looked over at the yellowish crosses painted on the stumps of rock atop the Corsair, and for a second considered going back to his house and forgetting he even thought about going there. He stared down at his legs, which were starting to sport the faintest strands of hair, let out a deep sigh, and began walking over to the unfamiliar section of rock that was home to the Corsair.

 

Small droplets of water sprayed his face as he got closer to the wall's edge. Walking alongside the brink, he could begin to discern the elated prayers of the boys.

 

"O Lord, we thank you for blessing Josiah's soul today. Please forgive his sins and shepherd his spirit towards everlasting life... We beg you now to protect and guide Khalil throught the journey he's about to undertake..."

 

The roar of an oncoming wave muffled the boys' voices. He stopped paying attention to the sounds and instead concentrated on where he was stepping, paying close attention to the shards of glass from bottles left behind by sloppy visitors. The next wave approached, and their voices rose accordingly, perfectly synchronized with the rythm of the tide. Just before the wave hit the cliff, they all shouted "God be with you, Khalil!!'", and the boy jumped.

 

The kid reached the group of boys while they held their heads low and prayed. Afraid to interrupt what seemed like a sacred moment, he sat down close to them and gazed out into the open sea, looking to find Khalil among the waves. The young man popped up and let out an exhuberant yell, just like the others had done. The remaining boys started to clap, but one of them noticed the stranger sitting down next to the group.

 

"Whoa, kid, are you crazy!! This is a really dangerous place to be in, what are you trying to do?!?", the young man said.

 

"Oh, uh, nothing, just wanted to see you guys a little closer, that's all." the kid responded, standing up defensively.

 

"Well you should walk back a little farther, you don't wanna slip and fall down this wall into the rocks below." the boy said. "You can just as well watch us from over there."

 

"I want to jump."

 

"What?"

 

"I said, I wanna jump. I want you to teach me."

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The Corsair: Chapter 2

 

Turning back to the rest of the guys, who had joined in the discussion, the young man exclaimed "Whaddaya know, he wants to jump." They all laughed quietly as if the whole idea was absurd. "Well, tell you what," the boy said, turning back to him, "you sit there while we finish, we only got one more to go, and I'll explain the whole deal to you. But keep in mind, you sure ain't jumping today." And with that, they resumed their prayers.

 

He sat down again to wait for the ceremony to end. They were six in all, all of them much older than him, probably around 17 or 18 year olds. They were black, or at least very dark skinned, the kid thought as he looked at his own pale knees. The boys weren't huge, but they were certainly healthy and athletic boys, although their tattered denim shorts and faded swimming trunks suggested a very modest lifestyle. He was intimidated by their size, their color, their ruggedness, their bravery, but the gentle sounds of their voices as they invoked God seemed to override all the rough qualities, and he felt strangely soothed. Khalil, the boy who had just jumped, was climbing up the rock to meet the others, obviously confused at the sight of the kid sitting next to them. He seemed to mouth some silent words before joining the group, and pretty soon the last boy was ready to dive.

 

The routine went as usual, and after the last boy had returned, they recited one last prayer. Exchanging hugs and handshakes, they each began walking away on their own, but the boy who had confronted him stayed behind and sat down.

 

"So why do you wanna jump? You know people have died trying this, right?" the young man asked.

 

"Uh, yeah, I know...", he answered nervously, pretending to understand what was obvioulsy unknown to him. "What hap..."

 

"Those three crosses, they're in honor of the three boys who died here, God bless their souls." the boy interrupted. "One of them was my brother. He was the first person to ever attempt the jump... and the first one to die in it. He used to do it by himself, never told anyone, until one day he asked me to come with him. He brought me here and showed me how to do it, although I never had the courage to try it myself. Then one day he went alone, and never came back. I never told anyone that he was jumping off the cliff that afternoon, I was too scared and felt guilty for not stopping him. Fishermen found his body floating the next morning, and they told my family that it was miraculously intact, no sharks or barracudas had gotten to him, and that his face was frozen in a smile. I didn't pay much attention though, I said that was just stuff that happens to corpses when their faces stiffen up in a grimace, especially ones who've been in the water for some time.

 

"So I felt terrible and never found a way to tell my mother and father what must've happened. I couldn't find a way to deal with it, so I just came here every morning before school and stared down at the water, wondering what had attracted him to try this crazy jump. I mean, look at it, no one in their right mind would consicer this as a dive spot." He pointed down the wall at the waves crashing underneath.

 

He was certainly right about that, the kid thought. The Corsair was located in one of the many inlets carved into the face of the rock, the landing area being a pool of violent whitewater no more than ten feet in diameter. Even the entrance to the inlet was guarded by rocks whose outlines he could see under the surface. A small channel barely wide enough to let a man through was all that kept the rebounding wave from dragging a diver's body against the rocky fringe. And even the inlet itself didn't seem to be any deeper than six feet or so. The jumping spot was no more than fifteen feet above the surface of the water, hardly an intimidating jump, but the treacherous landing area more than made up for it.

 

"So one day I just jumped." the boy continued. "I knew I wouldn't be able to face my guilt if I didn't go through with it myself. I dove right in, just thinking about the things my brother had said, about keeping your body straight but at an angle, etc. I made it out alive, but really bruised up. Banged against so many rocks I thought my body would break apart. I was dragged underwater for about a minute, and came close to passing out..." he lingered for a moment, as if trying to catch a fleeting thought. "I really can't describe with words what happened afterwards. The whole feeling, the calmness... I was so close to death and so scared; and then... nothing, just silence. I felt someone embracing me, protecting me. I was easily more than twenty feet underwater, paralyzed by the currents and completely helpless, but I knew I wouldn't die. I just knew it. For the first time ever in my life, I knew God. He was there, and he cleared out the water and let me float to the surface. Just like that, there's no other way to explain it. I was going to die. And God let me live.

 

"I never felt more alive than that day, floating in the water and bleeding, God, even the pain was beautiful. I managed to swim back to shore and... you know, ever since, man. All the stuff in church that I didn't care about just started making sense. I got closer to God and his Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, and began reading the Bible every day. I know there's a lot of people out there who are very religious and have the same love for Jesus as we do, but I don't know if they've ever felt the hand of God on their shoulders like I did that day. God showed Himself to me more clearly than any priest had ever done before.

 

"I began to dive every Sunday after church, even though my family didn't want me to. After telling my mother the truth about my brother and seeing how I ended up after trying it myself, she absolutely forbid me to do it. But I kept coming here regardless, and I got better at it. The thing is, every time I jump, I get that same feeling. Always. The Lord is addictive; experiencing God's love is the best high you can ever get. Used to smoke and drink with my boys and whatever, now I've left it all behind, thanks to the Lord.

 

"So anyways, I joined a youth group, and began bringing some of the guys here, taught them about the jump. All of them have felt it, and to this day we come every single Sund..."

 

"But wait," the kid blurted out, "didn't two other people die here? Who were those?"

 

"Ah, right. Well, those two others I didn't personally know. Apparently they had seen us do the jump and wanted a little adrenaline rush. Jumped with no clue whatsoever of how dangerous it was. From what I've heard, the first guy jumped and never came up, so the other guy went after him immediately and disappeared as well. Their bodies never showed up, not a single trace. Everyone thought sharks got em quickly or something, but one summer, during the low tide season, divers searching for lobster around the reef said that there's hundreds of small caves and crevices on the rock where a body can fit. And with the currents that form when waves hit, there's a big possibility they were forcefully jammed in one of them and never got out. I'm telling you, this is not a kiddie pool hop. This jump takes a lot of skill, confidence, and above all, complete faith in God. Why do you want to risk your life here, if I may ask?

 

The kid was stunned for a few seconds. He had no idea what to say, he simply wanted to prove to himself that he could; but after hearing the young man's story, his own purposes seemed so banal and unjustified he felt ashamed to admit it. "Well, uh, I guess I just found it really interesting.", he said. "But what you told me sounds really intense, man. Sounds scary as hell, I dunno if I wan..."

 

The young man laughed softly at this. "The thing is, it's exactly the opposite. It may look scary as hell, but it's actually joyful as heaven. Look behind you, look at all the drunken fools out there on the beach.", the young man said while pointing back at the beach crowd. "The warm water, the warm beer, the warm bodies. That's scary as hell. That's where I was before I found Jesus. All comfortable in the calm and warm world, indulging in needless stuff, only commenting and noticing things in the world whenever something bad happens. They only get reality checks when things go wrong. All the fun they're having right now will seem so small compared to the pain they'll feel when a loved one dies or when they make a serious mistake. Over on this side," he said, turning back to the open sea, "wild water, hard reefs, dangerous animals. Pure, untarnished nature in all its violent glory. You dive into this world of viciousness, and reality spreads open before your eyes like blanket. The realness of God's love, the beauty of the world, the perfection of His work, all become apparent when things go right amid the chaos. When the strength of those waves envelop you, you glimpse into heaven, for a fraction of a second that stretches forever." He went silent for a few seconds, then came back. "So anyways, here I am telling you all of this, and I don't even know your name. Mine's Jonathan." he said, holding out his hand.

 

"Oh, yeah. I'm Alex," the kid responded. "Nice to meet you."

 

"Tell you what, Alex, let's go eat something, and I'll tell you everything you want to know about God. That is, if you're still interested."

 

Although the whole God deal wasn't what Alex had in mind, he was nevertheless impressed by the sincere intensity of Jonathan's words, and was eager to hear more. He said "Sure", and they both headed back down the face of the rock and through the hot sand.

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The Corsair: Chapter 3

 

The next few nights Alex slept uneasily. He had gone with Jonathan to eat at the local burguer joint, where they sat down for almost the entire afternoon. Jonathan had continued his lengthy monologue, trying to convince Alex that the essential aspect of jumping the Corsair was the search for God, not the stimulating rush of adrenaline. Alex had finally agreed to accompany him to church the following Sunday and the one after that, at which point Jonathan would allow him to jump. In the meantime, he had to train his mind and body daily in preparation for the event. "Your lungs are gonna be stressed the hardest they'll ever be in your life." Jonathan had said. "Those are ten-foot-plus waves you're dealing with, and they will certainly keep you underwater for quite some time. And when your heart is racing as fast as it will when you hit the water, believe me, you'll feel the need for more air instantly."

 

As practice, he had suggested that Alex try swimming every day underwater as fast and long as he could, which he did. Everyday after school he would go down to the beach, which was no more than three minutes away from his house, and he would dive straight into the water, breast-stroking as far as his lungs allowed him to. Alex was a considerably healthy boy, and he noticed his lungs quickly adjusted and developed endurance during the task. In just three days, he had almost doubled his original distance, not because he could swim faster, but because he could regulate his oxygen consumption better.

 

Other exercises suggested by Jonathan included learning how to deal with claustrophobia. He would have to swim out to a spot he knew out in the middle of the beach, about halfway between the shore and the reef, that was good for snorkeling. About twenty feet deep, the area was littered with large flat stone slabs that were once part of a wall that stood as a wave barrier more than two centuries ago. Since then, the global rise of the sea level had eventually overpowered the man-made barricade and converted it into its own underwater habitat, bristling with tropical fish and coral. Some of the slabs lay on top of one another at various angles, forming overhangs and dark little caves. All by himself, he would swim down to one of these caves, look around for signs of life ("Scope out the rocks, you don't want to wander into a moray eel nest by accident", Jonathan had told him), and proceed to lodge himself in the shadows in a fetal position for as long as he could, and stay until lights started to spark in his head from lack of air. The first few times he was immediately terrified when he went inside, feeling the weight of the heavy rocks against his back and imagining all sorts of unspeakable menaces waiting to pounce on him. Nevertheless, it only took him a couple of days before he found the activity rather enjoyable. Having lived all his life in the ocean, Alex was very knowledgeable about the marine world, and felt just as comfortable in the water as he did on land. He had never stuffed himself willingly into dark underwater crevices, but the fear to do so turned out to be temporary; by the time Friday came, he would crawl into the cave and reflect on things, paying no attention to his oppressing surroudings. He'd think about his day at school, his little sister smearing her cereal all over her face and bib in the morning, how it would feel to be in the air after jumping the Corsair, and he'd wonder about God Himself. Is He real? Did these boys actually experience God? Or was it all a cerebral hallucination that kicked in from lack of oxygen and sense of direction? His lungs would tighten and white flashes would snap in the back of his head, and he knew he had to get to the surface. He would kick up towards the surface, very calmly, considering his entire system was on the verge of shutting down, and would pop out of the water, lungs filling to their bursting point in a single massive breath. He would glance down at his wristwatch and notice he'd spent five seconds more down under than the day before, as he felt his racing heart slow down to a gentle pace. Certainly good progress for a week, he thought.

 

The next Sunday came, and Alex got up early for church. He was certainly no regular churchgoer, but he'd been there a couple of time for special occasions and the few times his grandmother asked him to accompany her. He ate his breakfast hastily and left, leaving his mother dumbfounded at his bizarre early-bird conduct. A few minutes before 8 am, he met Jonathan and the rest of the group at the church entrance, where the regular crowd was already walking in.

 

"Guys, this is Alex, the kid who you saw last week at the Corsair," began Jonathan. "He's interested in God and wants us to help him find the Way. I know he's young, but age is of no importance. I talked to him a lot last Sunday, and I think we should let him come along with us today." The others looked around at each other, looking slightly confused at the sudden appearance of the young kid among them. "Alex, this is Zeke, Josiah, Manuel, Khalil, and Peter." They all stepped forward and shook his hand, the look of confusion changing to one of respect and understanding. They all went inside for the day's sermon, which Alex could hardly pay attention to. He would often glance at the others, who were quite immersed in the priest's lecture. Alex was one of those people who could go to church with no complaining, but once there would let his mind drift away throughout the entire sermon and leave the place no wiser than when he entered. This time he made a conscious effort to listen, but the words from the priest would start blurring away after a few sentences. Whenever the crowd had to respond, Alex nervously mumbled along whatever words he could remember. Thankfully, the other guys seemed so engrossed in the ceremony they paid no attention to him. The hour passed uneventfully, save for the Eucharist, which Alex hadn't taken part of in almost a year, and at the end people stood up and began to leave. The boys picked up their belongings, a bundle of dirty duffel bags in one corner of the building, and headed down the street towards the shoreline. Alex walked alongside them, feeling uncomfortably young and pale among the dark, tall figures.

 

Not a single word was uttered on the way to the Corsair. The weekend crowd was in full effect once again, the hordes of people congregating under the tropical winter sun to celebrate their one free day. They walked among the crowd, eyes fixed straight ahead on the crosses atop the rock. Once up there, they began their ritual with a preliminary prayer to invoke the presence of God, and one by one, they jumped. Alex sat down just like he did the week before, staring at the crashing waves below him. He had imagined the place to look less intimidating after the intense training he had been doing the past week, but the toothy rocks below looked more menacing than before. One of the kids, Manuel, made it back with a bloody scrape all along the length of his arm. "Right when I landed in, leaned back too much, and the wave flushed me out of the channel too close to the top. Must've caught my arm on an edge." he said with a gentle smile, before rejoining them. Twenty minutes later, all of them had taken their turns, and they concluded their ceremony.

 

"Alright guys, catch you all later," said Jonathan, "I'm gonna go show Alex the Abe Lincoln now, I think he's ready for it. God bless." The guys all smiled at Alex and wished him luck. Manuel walked up and patted him on the back. "Don't worry bout a thing, man. This little scrape was just bad technique from my part, but the Lord still pulled me through. He'll pull you through as well, just allow Him to do it. Good luck, man, and God bless." And with that, they all parted on their own.

 

"The Abe Lincoln?", asked Alex, turning to Jonathan. "What the heck is that?"

 

"Oh, c'mon, you've lived here for twelve years and you haven't heard of the Abe Lincoln?", he responded. "C'mon, I'll take you there. Let's go to the docks to get the dinghy."

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The Corsair: Chapter 4

 

The two boys walked down to the docks, located far from where the bulk of the beach crowd sat. Jonathan's ride was tied at the end of the last pier, which was reserved for small craft. It was an aging 10-foot aluminun skiff, powered by a miniscule 7 horsepower engine. Alex untied the lines while Jonathan attempted to pull-start the engine, which he achieved after five tries. After a few minutes of warmup, they started off towards the middle of the reef.

 

"So what's the Abe Lincoln then?", Alex inquired again.

 

"You see that big rock in the water we're headed for? Turn your head to the side and look at it."

 

Alex did as he was told, and received no illuminating answer. All he could see was the rock on its side. "Uh, I don't get it.", he concluded.

 

"Don't you see it? It's Abe Lincoln's profile. The middle peak is his nose, that thick peak, to the right of the middle one, is the brow, and on the left it's the lips and beard."

 

Well, it kinda looked like Abe Lincoln, Alex thought. But only after someone specified it would he have been able to see it. "You're gonna dive off Abe Lincoln's nose today", explained Jonathan. Alex felt a tinge of nervousness crawl up his spine, but he shook it away just like he shook the away the underwater claustrophobia the past week. They reached the outcropping in a few minutes, the tiny skiff struggling to clear the waves that filtered through the submerged reef on both sides of the rock. He was surprised to find out the rock was slightly curved inwards, so that it provided a shelter of calm water right in front of it. Jonathan drove the skiff up next to the rock and tied it to a metal pole that had been forceully jammed into the rock. This rock was taller than the one where the Corsair was, but it was much less expansive, about eighty feet in length at the most. "Follow me", said Jonathan while diving straight into the clear water. Alex glanced down into the water, and was surprised to see the ocean bottom much farther down than he expected up here so close to the reef. The water was incredibly clear, and he could tell that the bottom was pure sand with a few scattered stones, save for a large boulder that sat right in the middle of the sheltered lagoon. He dove in after Jonathan, who had reached a spot on the rock wall friendly enough to climb on. He followed him on a rather challenging climb up the face of the rock, reaching the top in a few minutes. He stood next to Jonathan and looked down at the boat. He guessed they were about thirty feet above the surface of the water, which didn't quite intimidate Alex. As he had told Jonathan the previous Sunday during lunch, he had already gathered enough height points from other jumps he had done. His highest jump was off a bridge located on a river out of town, which was probably 45-50 feet in height, a good three seconds of hang time, and about a week's worth of sore feet. Plus, the water here was at least twenty feet deep and had a mostly sand bottom, so injury was very unlikely. "Uh, so I just jump?" he asked.

 

"Yeah, you jump. But not here. You gotta jump onto THAT spot", said Jonathan, pointing straight at the underwater boulder he had seen earlier. "What, you thought it was just a sissy 30-footer into deep water? Haha, you've done much harder. C'mon, lemme show you how to do this." Jonathan walked across until he stood directly in front of the underwater boulder. "The top of that rock you see there is about ten feet under the surface of the water. Me and my friends can easily clear the distance to land beyond it. But, naturally, we can jump much farther now than when we were twelve years old. From the look of you, you look like you can at least land right on top of it. And that's what I want you to do."

 

"Wha... wait, are you crazy? I'm gonna hit that stone like a ton of bricks!" argued Alex.

 

"Ah, that's where the skill comes in. You know the standard diving body position, right? Present as least surface to the water as possible. Feet pointed, arms pinned close to you, head facing straight ahead, body pointed downwards. All of those apply here, except the last one. You gotta land with enough of an angle to the water so that you're deflected away towards the front of the rock. Just jump as far as you can, get into position, and slowly lean back. If you get the angle right, the water and the space occupied by the rock in there will form a kind of invisible slide that will shoot your body forward. I gotta tell you, that slight leaning back means a rough impact on your back, but don't worry, it's just a couple of degrees. Alright, watch carefully, cause I'm gonna do it. Once I'm down there, I'm gonna put on a snorkeling mask I got on the boat, and I want you to dive into the clear sand space next to the rock. I'm gonna be looking to see if your body angle is good enough to clear the rock, alright? Don't worry, you can try as many times as you want before you try the real thing. See you down there, and pay attention." Having said that, Jonathan sprung off the edge of the rock, heading straight for the dark shape of the boulder below. Alex noted how quickly he got into position, since he didn't have to worry about jumping far enough; it would certainly be a different story for him. Jonathan began leaning back in midair and hit the water right above the boulder with a resounding splash. The water was clear enough for Alex to see Jonathan's entire underwater trajectory. As he predicted, his body, enveloped with air bubbles, was quickly diverted in front of the rock, eventually becoming parallel to the water surface and stopping a couple of yards ahead. He came back up to the surface, flashed a thumbs up, and headed towards the boat.

 

Ok, so I don't have to go for the rock right ahead, thought Alex as he waited for Jonathan to come back with the mask. He started looking around to find the best spot, and Jonathan shouted from below.

 

"Ok, Alex!!! I'm gonna be here to the left of the rock, looking underwater. I want you to land to the right of it, so that we're aligned in a straight line with the rock. That way I can see if you're gonna make the real jump or not!! Alright, ready when you are!!" He dove back underwater and positioned himself to watch. Fair enough, Alex thought. He found a nice, flat spot to take off from, took a few breaths, and jumped with all his strength as far as possible.

 

He had a few moments of uncertainty at first, "running" in midair as he attempted to gain distance and balance his body. The water was quickly rushing up from below to greet his flailing legs, and he managed to steady himself and get into dive position about halfway down. Body straight, Alex closed his eyes and pretended to be falling back into a soft mattress, completely forgetting the fact that he was airborne. He hit the water with a solid impact, knocking the air out of himself, but he could feel his body sliding forward as it leaned farther back underwater. If it wasn't for all the practicing he had done earlier during the week, he would've panicked and tried to reach the surface in a hurry. Instead, he ignored the pain in his chest and slowly swam back up.

 

He was met with the sounds of excited clapping, and let his lungs suck in the salty air. Slightly confused, he looked around to reorient himself and find where the voice was coming from. Jonathan was cheering energetically, his legs kicking under him hard enough to lift his entire torso out of the water.

 

"That was BEAUTIFUL, Alex!! Too beautiful, in fact! Boy, you could've cleared that rock even if it was a foot underwater!!", Jonathan was saying. Alex swam up to him and followed him to the spot where they climbed up earlier. This time, he climbed alone, while Jonathan remained below to look out for his next jump. Still slightly stunned, he heard Jonathan below say how he had leaned much farther than he needed to, that a slight degree was enough for a significant deflection through the water, and asking him if he hit the water hard.

 

"Uh, yeah. Got the wind knocked out of me, actually. Wow, that really wasn't too hard," Alex answered.

 

"Well, I must say, you impressed me. It's not exactly an easy jump. You jumped far and precise, and you took that hit like a slab of concrete. Wanna try it again or you ready for the real thing?"

 

"Uh, I'm gonna go for it. It really wasn't as hard as I thought," Alex said, wondering if his back could take such a punishing slam again.

 

"God be with you, then, Alex. I'll be waiting down here. Everything's gonna be just fine, He'll be holding your hand all the way down." Jonathan readjusted his mask and dove back in.

 

Alex reached the top and got into position without thinking it twice. He looked at the black shadow of the rock in front of him, the distorted image of Jonathan floating right next to it. "This is it," he thought. "I could die..." A few quick breaths, and Alex found himself in the air, tracing an arc trajectory headed directly for the rock. The horizon held steady for a moment, and then began to rise as his body accelerated with the pull of gravity. He sensed his body automatically straighten out, and looking straight ahead of himself, he closed his eyes and let his body fall backwards just like before. Everything went silent, from the noise of the waves to the beating of his heart, and then he hit the surface with a resounding thud. This time the air remained in his lungs, but he still felt the angle of his body level out as the water expelled him forward and away from the rock. Following a moment of complete mental silence, Alex opened his eyes and saw the blurry green world in front of him, small wisps of air bubbles clouding his view. He had made it intact.

 

Coming up for air, he almost swam right into Jonathan, who had swum up to congratulate him. "Spot on perfect, man, I knew you'd make it!! I bet you felt God carrying you through that water, away from the rock, see, He is real!!! Did you feel Him?"

 

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did." Alex lied. The truth was, he had never felt so empty like he did back there up in the air. The danger, the excitement, the silence of the sky, the roar of the water, everything around and inside him collided together and cancelled each other out in a moment of pure nothingness. Unless God was an absolute Void, he had certainly not experienced His work. He decided not to bring it up, seeing that Jonathan looked much happier than he did, and Alex didn't want to let him down.

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Guest imported_El Mamerro

The Corsair: Chapter 5

 

After mastering the Abe Lincoln, he and Jonathan had driven the dinghy back to the dock and gone to the Corsair one more time. There, Jonathan had explained what the importance of trying Abe Lincoln was in relation to the Corsair. The rock at Abe's was ten feet under the surface of the water, but at the Corsair, the rocks were barely seven feet deep when a wave came in. Perfect entry angle was necessary in order to survive the fall into the water at the Corsair, as well as timing. You had to jump in right after a wave hit, or else the water would be too shallow and you would land right on the rocks. He had pointed out the visible fringe of reef that lined the mouth of the inlet. "That crown is just barely under the surface of the water. There's a channel through it that starts off about two feet wide, then fans out the deeper you get. When the wave comes in, it usually has enough strength to go over the crown. Once it hits the wall, the rebound flows back into the crown, but since it has much less force, it can't go over it. So the wave swallows you, shakes you up real good, and you gotta relax your body so the water travels around you. If you tense up, you become a big stiff oar in the water and it will slam you all over the place. When the wave retreats, almost all the water is sucked down and into that channel, and you go along with it. The deeper you go, the less likely you will hit one of the channel walls. Remember Manuel today? He landed too slanted, and therefore stayed too shallow in the water. The wave flushed him out through the skinny part of the channel, and he probably scraped one of the sides."

 

He asked Alex how he was doing on his daily exercises, and seemed pleased to hear that he could hold up to fifty seconds swimming underwater, and over a minute and a half staying still. "That's pretty good," Jonathan said." but just to make sure, try to get a full minute while swimming. Keep doing those exercises every day."

 

"Should I practice at Abe Lincoln some more?", asked Alex.

 

"No, don't ever go there by yourself. Anything wrong happens, there's no one there to help you. And it's a pretty far swim, you'll exhaust yourself before getting there. Don't worry about it, you definitely got the skill for the jump. Now you need a little more resistance, and above all, faith."

 

"Got any faith exercises I should work on?", joked Alex.

 

Jonathan kept a straight face. "Pray", he said. Alex remained quiet. "Let the Lord fill you with His power, and He'll help you pull through. Talk to Him every day, believe He is real, and give yourself to Him. Being uncertain will be your worst mistake when you jump. You gotta establish communication with the Lord for the next few days, and keep conversing even while you're jumping. After you make it out OK, I promise you that communication with God will never break, it will just continue to get stronger everyday. He is real. You'll find out." Jonathan turned around and began walking back home. "See you next Sunday, Alex. God bless you."

 

Alex stood alone at the Corsair for the first time in his life. The sun was beginning to set for the day, the flattened clouds over the horizon blushing at its wake. Below him, the tide relentlessly pummeled against the cliff wall, the spray of the waves carving miniature rainbows in mid air. He tried in vain to remain objective and technical, to observe the nuances and details of the jump that Jonathan had told him about. The sounds of the dwindling crowd slowly began to vanish away into the wail of the sea, and the sun's silent red light cast a fleshy pallor on the white splashes beneath. Everything was canceling everything else out again, and the deafening Void threatened to blur Alex's thoughts. He remained still, since there was nowhere he could move in emptiness, and watched the wave retreat through the channel in a whirlpool of faith and indemnity. In the emptying puddle left behind by the retreating surf, Alex could see the bony hands of the lost souls reach out from the small caves as spokesmen of the Lord. The algae clinging to the rocks twisted into ghostly smiles, and Alex almost gave in before the next wave thundered in and shattered the Void into a million unredeemable fragments. The sounds of the world crashed back into his head with the impact of the wave, and Alex stood up. He took one last look at the primeval pond below him, and then he turned around and headed back home.

 

The following week was spent in a daze. Alex could hardly pay attention to his teachers, had trouble watching out for cars when crossing streets, and never understood (or cared) why his dinner got cold so quickly. After school he would head down to the beach, remove his uniform, and plunge into the water, his arms and legs mechanically moving while his brain transformed the bland green underwater world into brilliant flashes of color and light. He would swim out to the stony slabs, crawl into the caves and fall asleep with his eyes open, only to wake up automatically with the alarms setting off in his head. Even with the commotion of the warning body signals, he would remain lodged in his precious corner for a few more seconds, where time would stretch and zoom in until Alex could discern the passage of every individual millisecond. He would then slowly swim out on the verge of unconsciousness, reaching the surface with what should have been a triumphant inhalation, but which instead became an enormous mechanized breath that seared his windpipe. What Jonathan had promised to be a search for God and spirituality in turn seemed to make Alex some sort of mindless contrivance.

 

At nights when he went to bed, Alex would snap back to humanity, and the imminent event the coming Sunday would linger in the back of his mind. The Corsair no longer looked like a menace or a challenge; it wasn't a force that threatened to take his life. Instead it had become a place where all the sounds and sights of the world collided together in a black hole that was seductively drawing him in. In the maelstrom of the turbulent waters, Alex had seen comfort; in the monotone routine of everyday life he saw frantic uneasiness. Everything seemed to have turned into contradictions and ironies since he had mustered the courage to walk up to the boys at the Corsair. He wondered if things would return to normal after he jumped, or if he would be sucked into the world of faith and belief that Jonathan had discovered, and which now seemed inevitable for him. He attempted to pray, to talk with a God he'd never known, a God that only formed in his mind as the bearded old man of grade school religion textbooks. He wished to have been able to recall the handful of Sunday masses he had attended, so that he knew how to start talking. Eventually, he'd fall asleep trying to find authenticity in a conversation that always left him with the feeling of talking to himself. He would wake up the next day with the same feeling of detachment, which slowly diminished as Sunday drew near.

 

He woke up on Sunday after a dreamless night, ten minutes before his alarm clock was supposed to go off. The daze of the previous week was almost gone, and he felt surprised to feel normal, as if it was something new to him. His mother, who was expecting him to be up, had prepared breakfast, which he ate promptly. Apparently, he had told her sometime during the week that he planned on going to church that Sunday, but he didn't recall a thing. She watched him eat with concern in her eyes, and he felt the need to explain to her that he wasn't becoming a religious nut. She said she knew that, but it didn't explain his bizarre behavior the past two weeks.

 

"I just met a couple of friends who go to church, mom. That's all. We go hang out at the beach afterwards," he told her.

 

After breakfast he walked over to church to meet up with the group. Given what was going to happen later that day, Alex didn't feel nervous at all; his heart beat gently. He decided it was probably his training. After all, walking to church was nowhere near as stressing as extended underwater swimming. But still, he had figured he'd be a complete mess this morning, unable to eat or think coherently. Quite the opposite was so; Alex felt very much alive and alert today.

The boys were waiting for him at the church entrance. They all remained quiet, offering only a hand and a smile to Alex. Jonathan leaned into his ear and whispered "It's gonna be all right, you just wait and see. Now come in and pray." Alex followed him in and sat next to them just like last week. The priest started his sermon and his mind began to wander as it always did. He focused on the priest, caught a few words, and in the process of trying to remember them, he would lose the rest of the priest's discourse. Then, trying to catch up, he'd forget what he was trying to remember in the first place. He felt guilty for being so hopelessly unreligious, even if he attended Catholic school. Nervousness crept in as he wondered if God frowned upon his wish to jump the Corsair without first acknowledging Him. But he had tried, every night, he had tried to talk to God, and He never said a word back. He dismissed trying to listen to the priest and tried one last time to converse with God. He would hear a small voice answering his pleads, but he would quickly realize it was his own voice replying to fill up the desire to talk. He gave up, and finally said "God, forgive me for not having found you".

 

The boys to his left and the people in the front pew looked down at him, and he realized he had thought out loud. Jonathan smiled. "You just did," he said softly.

 

Alex's mind went blank for the rest of the mass, just like it had for the past week. He only moved to go receive the Eucharist, which felt flavorless and foreign as swallowed it. He sat back down and stared ahead at the blurred image of the priest behind the altar and his even blurrier words. Behind the priest, rocks loomed in fantastic clarity, waves and water cascading down the wall, the ghosts of the three dead boys looming out from the crooked white crosses. The mirage disappeared and the priest cam back into focus, as he dismissed the mass.

 

"Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. May the Lord be with You."

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Yo!

 

when i first started lookin at the 12oz, way back in the summer of 2000

i thought to myself

what a cool fuckin idea

a forum with a ton of artists...

 

and it is so easy to manipulate the posts and threads!!

for a second, i thought that most threads would be works of art

with commentary and stories and pictures..

entertainment at its diy best..

 

but then i realized 12oz was more like a bunch of teenage boys sitting around talking shit.

 

thank you mamerro, for elevating it to the level it deserves..

dope thread

 

A+

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