Finally a day came when my obligations to the world suddenly seemed somewhat less obligatory. I went down to the beach one last time, trod through the rough sand to place on the beach where I knew where the chain remained, it had found me and then waited for me, patiently. My hands, strong, soft and clean, were devoid of scars, calluses, or any other sign that would show these hands to be hard worked. Those were the hands that picked up the chain and with a firm grip followed it out into the cold and clear water. At first the miniature waves broke around my ankles soaking my pant legs, then rose up to my knees, and eventually swallowed me up to my waste. My body was washed with waves of goose bumps over and over again with every step I took into the chilling water. Hand over hand I followed it into the tide, without turning to look back at the shore. The links were easy to grip; they were clean, devoid of rust and grime. But as I ventured further in they began to develop a coating of slime and were becoming somewhat slippery.
I could have gone back to the shore, but I wondered where this chain would go, what it could lead to, what would I find at the end. I decided to give it another good tug, but it allowed me no cede, holding firm to whatever it was that it happened to be grounded in. I continued to wade in the water, feeling burdened by my clothes which were now soaked and heavy with water. The growing waves were then crashing around my head, jolting my body around as if I were nothing but a flimsy doll. Odd though, the chain did not budge, it did not waiver from side to side as my body was so easily thrown. It held firm, and taut. Something about that gave me strength. Knowledge deep within told me that as long I held onto this chain, I would not be swept away.
Eventually I disposed of my clothing. I no longer had any purpose for them, they provided no warmth, no protection; they were nothing but a weight tugging on my body. Then instead of the cold wet feeling clinging to my body, it swept over my uncovered skin. The ocean floor had also long disappeared from beneath my feet, leaving a hand grasping desperately onto the chain for guidance, and my legs pumping, continuously, to keep moving. I could not yet see where it ended, or where I would have to travel to get there. Hunger had gripped my stomach long ago and death could have found me before I found the end. But it was much too late to turn back even if the desire had entered my mind. I had come too far and could not follow the chain back to the shore. I had tried to at one point, my heart told me that this journey was useless and if I turned back then I might make it back before the sun would set. But the end of the chain seemed to have followed me, for it was trailing only a few metres behind. Though the last few feet were, for one, floating, and for another cleaner and smoother than the links that I had just been gripping. Just like the very links that had lain on the shore. The links that I had picked up on the beach, it was almost as if I hadn't pulled myself along at all.
There were times when the waters were still and the only thing I thought was moving beside myself was the wind. It was then the creatures came close to the surface, at first I thought it was my imagination playing tricks on me, but they were most definitely there, though I could not quite see what they were, only vague shadows and forms haunting me. They swam around discreetly, causing me to feel like their prey. Sometimes they nipped at me, snuck up under me, which frightened me, but all I could do was keep moving. And though they ate away at me, a strange knowledge that they could never wholly consume me comforted my mind, not as long as I held on to the chain.