She had read somewhere that there were lands beneath the seas, that it was where wishes hid themselves ("Fishes, you mean fishes."), that is was where dreams lived, that it was where pearls of happiness lived.

Pearls were the perfect metaphor; beauty and perfection, born of irritation. Born of an age of suffering.

They had stopped believing in mythical lands that lived beneath the waves, and so she stopped talking about them - there was a look in their eyes that she remembered, the same look her mother had been given.

Mother had tried to take her to the land of safety, of happiness, but it had never worked. It had never lasted. They had begun to walk and then suddenly, they would stop.

She could never remember what it was that made them stop.

Mother had left - or rather, she was gone - soon afterwards.

She wore a gown - a beautiful, silk one. It had seen better days, but it was mother's, it was what she would have wanted. It fit her like a glove.

She closed her eyes as she lay in the water - no walking in, it hadn't worked then, it wouldn't work now. She felt the water welcome her - you believed in the stories, it whispered, you believed in the dreams that come true down here, you remember the stories the others have shaken off.

Come and claim your reward.