In this strange world of disgusting smoke and fire, of burnt people painted with red, I don't know who I am. My mother and father are not here, my baby sister or brother will never arrive, and I feel emptier than the emptiness in Thommy's unseeing eyes. I can't cry anymore, I've run out of water, my body is dry and my soul weeps inside me. This is the worst thing for any Atlantean, to be so dry. We crave water, survive only with water. All my people, these burnt painted people, all are dry and I know how much they would hate that. I must honour them and return them to the water, but I am only 8 and I know I am not big enough, or strong enough. I gently return Thommy's hand to him and carefully stand again on my weak, untrustworthy knees. I have to get to the water, and slowly that is exactly where I walk. I feel like the water is calling me, its allure growing stronger the closer I get. Finally my toes are in the cool, wet water and I feel its peace. I allow my knees to bend again and my hot, dry body splashes into the cool. I try to hold the water in my fists and I am apologising. I am sorry that I am not strong enough to bring my people to this peace, to cool their burnt flesh and wash them clean again. I am sorry that I am alone, that I didn't help them, not my mother, my father, my baby sister or brother, Thommy, my friends, my people. I thank the water for concealing me from the anger and the pain that I can feel has exploded here, consuming my home and taking everyone away with it. 

I feel the water whisper a reply, it will care for our people, wash them clean of their pain, and welcome their spirits to swim forever in its wonderous world of blue. But how can I bring my people to the water? I have never felt so weak. The water answers that we are strong as together we are water and Atlantean, the one cannot be without the other. The water will swell and take back its own. I don't know what that means, my mother didn't have the time to teach me everything that I should know. I am tired, confused, overwhelmed and though I am no longer alone with the water touching my skin, all my people are gone. Pain is in my heart, and in my head and I cannot think because of it and because of that foul smoke. The water will defeat the smoke, its confidence builds my own. I must go to the big water, the water of salt, sea forests and the creatures that live there. They all wait for me, in the big blue. Now I will not need my breathing straw, the water will share its breath with me. I can only listen and obey, and without any though of my own, I rise to walk from the fresh water to the ocean, the sound of waves crashing to the shore, guiding me. 

Standing in the salt water I hear again its whisper, this time its musical, with the beat of the tides, its vastness assures me of safety, its cool embrace welcoming me. For just a moment, I pause. I want to look again at what was my home. The misshapen huts, lit by the glow of the still burning fire, shrinking under its angry cloud of heat and billowing smoke, my old home. I cannot see my people from here, but I can feel the swell of the ocean as the very earth that lays between the cut of the fresh water and the salt water, the land beneath my old home, begins to sink. The water creeps further as I watch and I know that eventually the fresh water and the salt water will meet and my home and my people will be reclaimed. I turn again to face the ocean, I feel its welcome as I walk further into its depth until once again water closes above my head. The salt water has found the tracks of my tears and has liberated it from my skin, my dark hair once again floating above my shoulders. This time I don't turn my face towards the sun, I look ahead into the depth of the water as it greets me. I am home, this is my home, the wonderous world of the salt water.  True to its promise the water breaths for me, I am not strangled or drowned. This is one of the secrets my mother didn't have time to share with me and now I am discovering it all on my own. 

I feel the moment that the first body of my people begins to be enveloped in the water's cool embrace. The pain inside me eases just a little with each spirit's release. I can almost feel the glee with which the released spirits one at time glide past me in the water, loving this world, its freedoms and wonders. For each of my people that return to the water, there is a corresponding lessening of my pain. Then suddenly I feel it, my mother and my baby sister, she is a girl! Their spirits are joyful as my mother's spirt shares with the spirit of my unborn baby sister the secrets of the water and they dance together. I feel the reassurance of my loving father as he glides behind them, the water now also reclaiming his form. They will forever be together, as part of the water, the world in which I now live. I am happy for them, but I miss them so much and so deeply. I don't want to be the one who is left behind, even if I do share the water with them, I want to dance with them, I want my spirit to be freed. But the water merely holds me tighter, whispering that I am its beloved gift and daughter of the Atlanteans, we are tied, without one there cannot be the other and so I must remain. Ahead of me in the blue I can see a turtle, he is feasting on some of the forest plants growing here in the water, and I suddenly realise that I am hungry as well. The water urges me to satisfy my hunger and I join the sea creature, trusting him to show me what is good to eat. 

What I did not know at that time, was that this day would be my first day of many, many days in my new blue home. That same turtle who guided me on what to eat and what to leave, soon also showed me the underwater freshwater streams that I could drink from, and he became one of my first but not my only companion through what would be a number of years in this world. He reminded me of Thommy at times, but also of mother, he was knowledgeable and fun, but he was also very caring and when I needed to rest, he would let me settle against his shell, resting my arms on his soft neck as he gently swam us both to whatever destination he had in mind. Together we discovered many tasty treats, swam with playful dolphins, glided with whales, evaded the sharks and explored the deep blue, learning all her secrets. Sometimes in the world above a storm would rage and the ocean would be unsettled, but my friends taught me to feel the mood of the water, so I could anticipate that happening and seek shelter. Sometimes we ventured into more sunlit areas, glorying in the feel of the warmth as it permeated the upper layers of the water. I never felt any desire to lift my head from my world to the world above. Whatever was happening outside of our world did not interest me, the spirits of my people are here in the water that welcomed us, protected us. I was not lonely, there is a lot of communication in the water. The water and I speak constantly, we are connected, and every creature makes their own sounds, speaking with their own kind and I know I am accepted, even as the last of my kind. 

On the first anniversary of the day when Atlantis returned to the sea, I returned to my old now sunken home to mark the passing of the day, respecting my family and remembering what was lost. That first year I couldn't venture into the village area, staying outside of it and away from its darkened resting place at the bottom of the ocean. The rays of the sun didn't reach there, the forms of the huts looked like shadows and only in my mind did they have true form. The next year I was braver, and I swam down into the village, the sun seemed to cooperate and offered me its light to see. The bones of my people lay where they had fallen, and were now mostly buried in the wet earth of the ocean floor. The huts sit eerily empty, all is silent with a strange air of what feels like some kind of waiting or anticipation. Of what I don't know, I could only visit here and remember what had once been the home of my people. The water whispered to me as it felt my pain of loss, and as the sun set, I turned away once more in the seas gentle embrace.

It wouldn't be until the fifth year had passed when I was once again in my old village marking that dreadful day, that I felt again that same sense of anticipation, but this time it found a home inside of me. I wanted to rebuild my people's village, to ensure that they are remembered, that once there had been a people here, the people of Atlantis, my people. The water whispered its promise of help and this time I did not swim away. I carefully inspected what was needed to fix the buildings and the water lent her power and her creatures to assist me. All that long year we laboured altogether until the dawn of the next anniversary and as I paused again to mark the day and remember, looking at the village with pride I can see finally the work was done and the village buildings are complete. The next year was spent finding beautiful shells and uncovering the treasures the world of men had previously lost to the sea. I decorated the village until it shone. I carved the story of my people into the walls of the family huts and the walls of the shared living areas, carvings to show the joy of my people living in harmony with the living water. I celebrated my people, our Atlantean culture, and tried my best to install a sense of peace into the resting place of my old home and all my slain people.

I spent one more year, watching as sea creatures moved in to make their homes and for that year we lived together in this grand Atlantis, this place of peace and harmony. My heart now sings with the song of my people, with pride in our culture and in remembrance of what was lost as I was simply too young to learn more from my people before they were taken from the world. Then I once again joined my friend the turtle as we journeyed to join the whales in their annual migration to the warmer place they go every year to birth their young. As happens every year, there are fishing hooks to remove from the flesh of sea creatures, harmful plastics wrapped tightly around fins, wire and fishing line, all unwelcome reminders of the world above, the world of men now venturing into ours. I hear tales of men dressed in skins like the flesh of seals and with flippers on their feet, swimming in the water and blowing bubbles of air. They have fashioned strange crafts that creep along in the water, metal and tin enclosed cages containing men so that they can explore the waters in which we live. Not content any more to drift along the waters surface and splash in the waves that meet the shores, they are exploring further into the depths of the blue. It worries me that one day I might be seen by them, and I worry how they might react, what they might do.