"Not gotten there yet?"

He was beginning to be gutsy. He knew that. He couldn't had told himself such a lie. He was beginning to wield his words into locks. He was beginning to enjoy his stay under the water. He didn't care what would follow after it. He didn't care whether or not a malady would be supplanted. He had already seen what he would pawn. He knew what to do and was bent on it. His guts was beginning to fuel his instinct. He was proud of the twain. Who wouldn't? Of course everyone would be. He kept his gaze up as they walked into the gate. He was short of words on what to say. He wasn't so kin with words. But he loved taking chances. And he had noticed that the professed Poseidon was simply someone he could pawn. His delight had been sharpened. Whether or not it would go blunt soonest didn't matter. All that matter was that for the first time in his life, he was having a control over his life. He didn't know whether or not he was telling himself a lanky lie again. He was simply the slave of his feelings and all tossed his instinct.

He looked at Poseidon who had kept mute since they had been walking. He had no idea what the sudden change was all about. He had no idea what he was thinking. If it were possible, he could rip off the professed Poseidon's head and walk through the path to his mental Ken. He would by then make meaning of whatever had made pawn of his words or will to speak. He wanted to say something else to him, but the words were not of their own makes. He had no power over them. He was merely a carrier or bearer. Whatever they demanded of him was all he could do. He rummaged his heart for options he was left with. Damn! He was bankrupted. There was nothing to check on. He was simply a mirage of sanity. Aside the poems he had written, there was nothing he had ever done which had not loan him a token of trouble. And imagine, the poem which seemed as a cubicle had led him into another trouble. He was probably a plague of existence. He couldn't really be sure. But he kept on walking.

To him, it seemed as though they were treading tiles. Like tarred tiles trained by skilled hands. He could tell the difference. When he was walking on earth, even after the realization, it seemed graceful and quite comely. It was what all the parts of his body were used to. He could say that over and over again. But walking in the water was less of the stress as the form. He couldn't even trust his feelings or sense of reasoning anymore. He didn't actually know what or what not to trust anymore. He was just been a figment of Catastrophe. And they had been walking. He could see the castle before him, but mystery was that the closer they moved towards it, the farther it seemed. Of course he was sure that it was some apt alakazam or was he daydreaming? Whichever it was to him wasn't new. But the fuck was happening was the contention. How would they be walking for like goodness knew the hours they've spent towards what they could see. Probably Poseidon was fiddling with his inky intelligence or trying his patience. He had asked a question but his fellow had simply kept quiet. But then, Poseidon halted and peered at him sketching sassy smirk on his face;

"What'd you say?"

He could simply punch annoying Poseidon in his throat. But he would rather do it with his words. He wasn't really afraid of fighting Poseidon, well he knew that he was telling himself a lanky lie. He countered his assertion with a pitch taunting his voice;

"Asshole! When will we get to this castle. I could see it before me. You're high?"

He was really having guts. He had no idea who leased them on him. Probably, the destruction that was about to make confetti of his breath were that generous. Poseidon got rid of the syllables assembling in his glottis:

"Beg your pardon, mate. I was won over by the thought of what Leviathan, my pet would eat. He ate 18 men yesterday and for sure is really hungry now. I don't know what to do now. You wanna sing my praise and I want to feed him. One should wait for the other. I guess you'll have to wait for it. I guess I'll feed him with 22 men today."

His guts were chopped at that. He knew that he was peeing in his hood. Why wouldn't he? He knew it! His instinct would never tell lie to him. How would that pet be as long as that? Of course twas because it ate a lot. And! Ah! His brain was having nauseating fluid oozing through! The Leviathan only eat humans. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He hoped that he wouldn't be an option. He prayed that he wouldn't be one of the appetizers. Twenty-two what? He tried to be sane. He knew that he wasn't. But he would feign it. That was the best thing to do. He almost said, "I'm sorry for all I've said to you." But his instinct was trained. He wouldn't say that. His acumen seemed to whisper an idea to his glottis:

"22 Men? Like men like me?"

What was he doing? Was he really going to give himself up so easily. What was he thinking? He simply wanted to bail himself. He wanted to vindicate himself. Who would had done stray? Of course every sane human would do exactly what he was doing. But he hoped that he was not going to give himself out so freely. No matter how dimwitted Poseidon seemed, he wouldn't miss out on such point. Ever. He awaited Poseidon's snappy comeback:

"Exactly! Men with belittling growth. With broad feet and wide palms. With beards drooping from their jaws like the prime of the hay. The hair most times nauseate poor Leviathan, but it's usually his medicine. Medicinal, I tell you."

Was he doing it intentionally? He couldn't be sure, but of course things were at stake. Whether or not Poseidon was doing on purpose did not matter to him. He was freaking out already. That was all that mattered. The description he had made was just him. Not a clone or what looked like him, but him. He didn't know what to do. Several thoughts rippled in sassy surges across his mental horizon. He hoped that he wouldn't go insane. Even if he did want to run, there was no where he could run to. He knew just that and wouldn't deceive himself. Where would he had possible run to? He of course knew no place in the depth of the water. He simply knew no one. But he was finding it quite hardly to believe in a fact. Probably to kowtow in the powhow. He didn't know what to believe or what not to believe anymore at that moment. He was being a real pawn of time. But had Poseidon brought him there to feed him to Leviathan? Was all the discussion and praises and professed jealous but charade. He prayed it wouldn't be so. How could it possibly be so. If it were so, he wouldn't know what to do. But he might no longer respect any spiritual figure. How would it even be possible for him to respect any anymore since he would be fed to the Leviathan. Well, speaking of his spirit, anything could happen. He knuckled under his fate. He accepted what hadn't been dictated to him. He convinced himself that he would die and loaned an epitaph which he wished would be written on his sepulchre:

"Allow me to write a poem about my death."

"Don't be in haste. Youve still got time."

"You won't be able to have your praise anymore."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I accept that you would feed me to your Leviathan. But how would you get the remaining twenty-one?"

"I'll go now and bring them!"

"Kill me then."

"What'd you mean?"

"Didn't you want to feed me to your Leviathan?"

"Do you want me to?"

Damn! He had simply being scared of what was an illusion. Poseidon didn't even trail that kinda intellectual route. He was simply scared and admitted it to him. But of course no! Why would he want himself fed to the Leviathan. Damn! He was glad. He thought his life had met with gloom and had been marshalled! Poseidon's words which were suiting came tearing down his pride and guant gay;

"I'll keep you with my pet. He will watch over you till I return. Staying outside is way too dangerous for you!"

"Take him with you, you need a quick drive."

"I can stir the waves and make a vehicle for myself. He'll be with you. See of whom we speak! Here he is."

He heard the remonstrations of the waters behind him. Leviathan was there. He turned to look. He met its fiery eyes. He looked back at Poseidon, but he was long gone. As he turned to look at the serpent, he felt a heavy blow on him. Damn! He knew he had been tricked!