One With the Boat, A Brock Hampton Tale (Part I)

[SamTwoSix 51]

One With the Boat, a Brock Hampton Tale

Part I: Brock Hampton Almost Fucking Dies

 

Halifax is well known for one thing- boats. Hell, they have an entire hockey team devoted to it so... they must really enjoy it over there. Halifax is also known for their VHLM hockey franchise- the one and only Halifax 21st. Also known as... the Boat Gang. Now, as a member of the Boat Gang, thsoe who play for the Halifax 21st get their own boat, free of charge, once they join the team. Naturally, Brock Hampton is a member of the 21st- so he has a boat. But Brock did not use his boat much over the course of his rookie year, opting to focus much more on hockey instead of boating around Nova Scotia. But alas, Brock was now in his second season as a VHLMer! He could afford to loosen up a bit! And thus, Brock ended up boating much more during the offseason and on off-days when he was back in Halifax.

 

Now, usually, Brock would go out on his boat with some of his teammates- guys like Tyler Steel ( @tylerwest) and Miroslav Tsarov ( @PadStack), or former 21st members like Leroy Johnson ( @Vkobe-v). But on this particular day, Brock wanted some alone time. He wanted to sail around Halifax on his own, with nothing but a map. He wanted to be unplugged for the day- and relax on the sea. 

 

So, Brock did exactly that! He woke up, had some lunch, and drove to the port, where he got on his boat and set sail. Clear skies all around- Brock was in the clear.

 

Or... so he thought.

 

Brock lifted the anchor and started sailing. He planned to be back at the port by around 6 PM, which gave him a solid 6 hours to sail around Halifax. For a while, everything was great! The waves were low, the current was good, and Brock was enjoying himself. It really seemed like he was unplugged and relaxed. Hockey was not on his mind... he was focused on sailing. 

 

The first hour of sailing was great. The second one was even better! But the third hour is when things got a little... wackier. 

 

Suddenly, clouds started to form. And the waves started to pick up a little. Despite this, Brock was undeterred. "It's nothing," Brock thought to himself. "The clouds will clear up eventually." But alas, due to Brock's unplugged-ness from the outside world, he didn't know that the weather had changed. A major thunderstorm was coming right up.

 

And then, it hit. The clouds turned from light grey to black. The waves raged. Thunder rumbled. Brock tried to rush back to the port, but it was too late.

 

He was in the middle of nowhere. 

 

The nearest port, from his map, was around 15 minutes away, however. If he could just traverse the waves and make it back, he'd be fine- he'd be just fine!

 

Just fine. Just fine. Those words kept echoing in Brock's head, bouncing inside his mind, as he tried to find this port. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to play hockey, and he wanted.... to win a title. But all that seemed like nothing. 

 

Brock tried his hardest, and his damndest, to make it to the port. But... he only lasted about 5 minutes (that's what she said) before becoming fatigued. Brock's muscles couldn't take the immense pain anymore. He was trying to stay concious, but he just... couldn't...

 

In a fatigued state, Brock, all of a sudden, fell off the edge of his boat. And before he realized, it was too late. Brock screamed, but nothing happened. Nobody could hear him in the water. He tried to swim, and was able to get gasps of air every so often, but Brock knew that he just had to make a mad swim towards the port. 

 

It took him 30 seconds before he felt a strange feeling. It wasn't a wave, nor was it thunder or lightning. It felt like his feet were getting sucked in. Brock started spinning. It seemed as if he was in a whirlpool. 

 

The spinning got faster, and faster, and faster. Brock screamed, yelling for help- help he knew he wouldn't recieve. 

 

"HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! PLEASE!" 

Brock shrieked. But the whirlpool sucked him in. His screams became mere bubbles underwater.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Brock desperately tried to breathe, tried to see what was under the Halifax waves. But it was only blue. And he was falling. Falling down, somewhere he didn't know. "Is this hell? Am I going to hell?" Brock thought. And he thought that this was it. A perfectly reasonable assumption. But you know what they say about assumptions.

 

After fighting the urge, Brock finally succumed to himself. He... fell asleep. Everything went black. At this point, Brock was truly just waiting to die. He was ready.

 

~~~

 

Now, for years, many believed that there was such thing as Atlantis. A Metropolis that was at the bottom of the Ocean floor- a hustling and bustling city, waiting for anyone under the sea. But many disproved of this idea, and in today's society, Atlantis is nothing more but a myth. And... society is correct. There is no metropolis that resides on the sea floor. But there is a house. 

 

This house is a cottage. It's tiny and cozy. It's one of those houses you'd see at the top of a hill somewhere. One that catches your eye- one that makes you wish you lived there. This cottage is a place of great mystique and refuge. Usually, those who end up in this house are stranded or lost at sea- they are taken in, mend and heal for about a week, and are then sent up to the surface world, as if nothing happened. 

 

Now, of course, there is an Owner of this House. Someone who has the duty of helping their "family members" mend and heal. Every 200 years, a new "Owner" is found, and gains the title of The Operator. 

 

As Brock Hampton's life faded to black... The Operator heard a thump on his front doorstep. It was Brock Hampton, falling to the ocean floor. Right infront of his house.

 

The Operator dragged Brock into his living room, and waited for him to wake up. 

 

~~~

 

Brock finally awoke. To his left, he saw a fireplace. To his right, a kitchen. And right in front of him was a man. 

 

"Am I dead?" Brock said to the man. "Who are you?"

 

"I am The Operator. Welcome to your home, for a while."

 

End of Part 1

 

[870 Words I think]