Titan Submersible: Tears in Mother’s Womb
a work from the archives
originally written 06/18/2023; this story means a lot to me because they found the wreckage of folly on my birthday. resurfacing this at the encouragement of a friend, I want to adapt and expand elements of this into a mariner’s one act tale. the kind pirates would perform on ships together to pass the time. a ghost story.
“If I’ve learned one thing down here, it’s that life is limited, but friendship is forever.” Said a British alliteratively-named voice in the darkest dark.
“You can say that again.” Said an American CEO-type voice in the darkest dark.
“No, I can’t. None of us can.”
Could we GoPuff them oxygen? Did we think of that yet? Are these intrepid men of the Titan submersible doomed to ocean’s unplumbed depths like my sister’s Belle figurine I dropped in Lake Springfield when I was 5? Some would say yes, some would be me. Goodbye Belle. I still think about you and the image of you descending into the depths like a rocket of turd into a toilet bowl. Oblivion made itself a memory.
“I never want to forget this moment with all of us here…” American CEO-type voice gestured around the Honda Odyssey-sized submersible with his American CEO-type hands, but in the darkest dark no one saw. But some things don’t need to be seen. Like famously tragic mass graves at the bottom of the ocean. Soon they’d be fish food for the gossip mill, the world was watching.
”…and, I love your British alliterative voice. On it, I can imagine a million faces and each is more beautiful than the last. I want your voice to be the last thing I hear down here.” cooed the American CEO-type to his lover in the dark.
“Did you all ever read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea when you were in school?” said a French maritime voice, the kind that would own salvage rights to the RMS Titanic. The French are notorious Jules Verne stans and will do anything to bring him up in conversation.
“No, but I am a descendent of two signers of the Declaration of Independence and my wife is the great great granddaughter of the founders of Macy’s—lesbian guitar darling King Princess” said CEO, successfully doxing his identity to the disturbed graves? Bad move, compadre. On the internet and in famous graves, the dead never die. Your house is on the hook. Get the kids out now.
“Didn’t they die on the Titanic?” the wistful French maritime expert voice asked.
“And they founded Macy’s!” The CEO said, doth I detect a note of pride in this dish of darkness?
“My stepson is a Blink-182 fan. I tried to tell him with our banging that he should go to their concert. I want him there. And to have an IG model sit on his face. I want everything for him, that’s why I started OceanGate—to have everything for him.” said the British alliterative voice.
“But you didn’t start it, I did.” said American CEO-type voice
“Oh yeah…” said the British alliterative voice; in the darkest dark, we’re not who we say we are, not anymore. Chicken becomes egg, fruit becomes seed, writer becomes the work, I become you, and as in all things, the universe equalizes.
Outside the Titan submersible, there was quiet. The quietest quiet and the darkest dark for what felt like the longest time, but had to have been less then 4 hours, as that was all the air that they had left.
“Before we stepped into this submersible, I never knew what it felt like to fall.” said American CEO-type voice. “Then we did it together for two and a half hours. Each of you is my brother now. And my lover. You caught me. We, the OceanGate 5.”
“But there’s only 4 of us…remember? The boy decided not to come at the last minute.”
“He did?”
Yes, because you see, in fantasy, anything is possible, including salvation for the innocent and comedic damnation for the foolhardy. This is my mariner’s tale and the rules are mine to write and enforce. Strap in, and keep your hands and feet inside my 4D coaster at all times. We’re never getting off. Nor did the OceanGate 5.
Soon, they would take their last breaths of life, but that would not be the end of their story. The news cycle had broken. The seal lifted. Now, the media would be urinating this story for the rest of the night because they couldn’t hold it anymore. Soon, the world would know that these men didn’t end with a whisper or a whimper, but with a water-logged bang that rocked the ocean bed and made the sea folk living at 1 RMS Titanic Condominiums say, “hey man, what gives? I’m trying to get some sleep!”
The only question left is, has Blumhouse secured the film rights yet?