A story told by The Anchor (A failed L5–S1 fusion Incarnate)
I am the anchor.
Even though I am chained, you cannot lift me up from the bed.
Float too far, and my chain will grow taut — slowly pulling you in.
You were only meant to get sails, but somehow, you ended up with me.
You try to show the world how light I am, but it’s clear for all to see:
you are chained down, barely able to float above water with friends or family
before I drag you down to the depths of the sea floor.
Even though it’s dark and heavy down here, you are not alone.
The dog and swordfish circle — eager to see you sink,
to have company, to feed on your flesh and soul.
Still, you try to swim upwards —
toward the light, toward the surface —
regardless of how futile it may be.
Since my installation, I have allowed you to see a world others never get to see.
For that, I know you are grateful.
But why do you keep trying to swim away from me?
I am not the darkness —
I only sink you among it.
Every stab of the swordfish
is my chance to reel you in,
while you cannot swim against me.
The doctors give you flotation devices,
but they come with timers.
When their time runs out,
I can reel you in without resistance.
Even when they haven’t,
I can still drag you down —
to depths no one should ever see.
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 1:15 AM UTC
A story told by The Anchor (A failed L5–S1 fusion Incarnate)
I am the anchor.
Even though I am chained, you cannot lift me up from the bed.
Float too far, and my chain will grow taut — slowly pulling you in.
You were only meant to get sails, but somehow, you ended up with me.
You try to show the world how light I am, but it’s clear for all to see:
you are chained down, barely able to float above water with friends or family
before I drag you down to the depths of the sea floor.
Even though it’s dark and heavy down here, you are not alone.
The dog and swordfish circle — eager to see you sink,
to have company, to feed on your flesh and soul.
Still, you try to swim upwards —
toward the light, toward the surface —
regardless of how futile it may be.
Since my installation, I have allowed you to see a world others never get to see.
For that, I know you are grateful.
But why do you keep trying to swim away from me?
I am not the darkness —
I only sink you among it.
Every stab of the swordfish
is my chance to reel you in,
while you cannot swim against me.
The doctors give you flotation devices,
but they come with timers.
When their time runs out,
I can reel you in without resistance.
Even when they haven’t,
I can still drag you down —
to depths no one should ever see.