Midnight in The Marine Jungle | The Falls Series | Fantasy Bedtime Stories For Sleep

Hello Jeffrey here and welcome back to Night Falls. I've mentioned before how much I love to time travel in my mind, especially when surprised by a Proustian taste that evokes a memory to get lost in. Just today the scent of catkins swept me back to my childhood, to a time when I was deeply fascinated by how they would suddenly appear and hang from trees. A time when I was spellbound by spring doing what spring does best, the reawakening of one stormant flora and fauna. Glorious. In tonight's story I take you back to a memory of a spring in Night Falls, when the forest was just beginning to thaw and we'd gathered once more by the ever burning campfire. But before long the six of us found ourselves far from the woods, carried out to the Sargasso Sea, a vast unmoving stretch of ocean where sky and water blur into one endless blue. With nowhere to be we let it carry us, drifting in that quiet stillness and slowly into sleep. Before we begin here's the quick ad break that keeps this free content possible. To go ad free subscribe via the link in the show notes. Alright. Instagram teen accounts with automatic protections on who can contact teenagers and the content they can see. Instagram teen accounts have contact limits on by default so teenagers get messages from people they know, not strangers, and default content settings. Plus teenagers under 16 can't change these default settings without parental approval, so parents can help teenagers connect safely. Learn more at instagram.com. You know there are a lot of different places here in Night Falls but during the day I still find myself wanting to learn a little more about the world. That's what led me to everything everywhere daily. It's one of the most popular daily education podcasts. Even recently ranked the number one history podcast and each episode is about 10 minutes so it's easy to fit into your day. They cover everything from history and science to fascinating people and moments you might never have come across otherwise. Some recent episodes I really liked include one on the history of curling which as a scott I have a soft spot for. Tracing it back to medieval Scotland. Or their episode on the world's greatest art museums which I found myself really drawn to. I've always loved art and hearing the stories behind these places makes it feel surprisingly immersive. So if you like the idea of learning something new without it ever feeling like work, learn something new every single day with everything everywhere daily. Find it on apple podcasts, Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts. Now back to Night Falls. The soft spring sun had begun to thaw Night Falls through. The ground wasn't quite so solid beneath my feet. The trees were turning green at last and the pine forest was fragrant for the first time in months. The days were getting longer. The sun's last rays stretched out at seven o'clock and yawned late into the evening breathing golds and pinks into the sky just before night. Nightfall. Sunlight had found a way to linger a little longer in the sky but the warmth ushered in by those spring days never managed to carry into the evening. The evenings were just brisk enough to warrant bundling up beneath blankets, brewing strong cups of tea and crowding around the campfire. That evening I could feel the warmth of the crackling fire on my face as I cosied up beside Devani. Nightfall's campfire had been burning since long before I arrived and in all the years that I'd relied upon it to thaw me through to cook my food and boil the water I steeped my tea leaves in. I'd never so much as seen it dim. It burned bright day and night and its crackle was always somewhere, carrying underneath the birdsong, underscoring our lives in the falls. That evening as my friends and I settled around the hearth to sip our tea and tuck into our books, something splashed over the sound of the crackling campfire. There was a stirring on the surface of the lake, sending out ripples large enough to draw the attention of Lyra, Wanda, Devani and myself. The lake had been frozen for much of the winter and now spring had swept through the clearing and melted the ice by that evening. It was still early for Anwen to be surfacing in the lake. Anwen existed somewhere between human, siren and celestial being and made her home in the world she had built beneath the surface of the water. She usually waited until the sunlight stretched past nine o'clock at night before she fussed herself with swimming up to see us. I hadn't believed her when she told me it was warmer in the depths of the lake than it was by the surface and eventually she'd led me down into the depths to prove me wrong. It had been almost two summers since I'd swum through the world she built for herself underwater. You're early. Lyra was already on her feet, arms open as she strode toward the edge of the lake to greet her old friend Anwen. It had been months since the pair had seen one another, months since Anwen, the edges of whom had always been hazy, had needed to firm herself up and find her feet on land. It was no mean feat and the magic that went into it always astounded me. If the human body were roughly 60% water, Anwen was easily 88% H2O. Where my friends and I were painted out with acrylics, Anwen's likeness was put together with watercolors. I'm soaking, Anwen warned as she found her feet on the beach and Lyra threw her arms around her. Happy New Year, Anwen nodded toward the rest of us. We have far past that now, Devaney laughed as we wondered down the beach toward her. I thought I might find you here. Cersei's voice cut over the commotion. It was just as much of a surprise to find the demi goddess standing at the entrance to the ravine as it had been to hear Anwen splashing on the surface of the lake. Anwen never gave much away, but that night, with her friends within reaching distance at last, she had a hard time fighting the smile from her face. Cersei and Anwen were the oldest of friends and it seemed that no matter how much time stretched between them, months, weeks or millennia, nothing could dull their affections for one another. Are you staying long? Lyra asked Anwen, eyes hopeful. It was easy to forget that there was a time when Lyra and Anwen had only had each other. Back then, the months that they were separated would be spent in the quiet of their own company. I'm just calling in, Anwen said gently, but I was hoping you might like to accompany me on a little trip. I'm going to the Sargasso Sea tonight. The water temperature is just right for it. Lyra, who had never managed to find her sea legs, looked torn. She wanted so badly to spend time with her friend, but wanted in equal measure to keep her feet where they belonged, planted firmly on land. It's very still, Anwen assured her, but Lyra looked anything but convinced. It's the stillest of all the seas, actually, Anwen promised. The currents that board it rotate clockwise whilst the Sargasso Sea sits still in the centre. I've heard it called the marine jungle, Cersei interjected. Creatures from coves all around the globe spend months swimming just to reach it. The Sargasso itself, the weed the sea is so famous for, is dense, golden and floats freely on the surface of the water. It creates a home for the species that flock there. It's getting late. How would we even get there? Lyra grumbled, but Cersei had an answer to everything. That's easily remedied. A smile pulled at the corners of Cersei's mouth as the lake began to bubble beyond the shoreline. Soon the waters that had been still as the Sargasso Sea was promised to be were rippling and rolling, splashing over the banks of the lake. A mast poked above the surface of the water first, then a sail, white, pristine and already rolled out as it rose from the depths of the lake. Then came the wooden boat deck and the hull beneath it. Where on earth did you get that? Davani looked as awestruck as I felt. It washed through town without a crew a few months ago. We've had it parked in the garden ever since. Cersei looked rather proud of the boat she had procured. Well, we won't be able to get that through the ravine. Lyra looked relieved, but it was easy to underestimate Cersei's power. It wasn't like the magic my friends and I drew from Nightfalls. The magic Cersei wielded was divine. She herself was the source of it, and she could draw as much from her own well as she pleased. It happened so fast that it was almost dizzying. Sand swept across the beach as the breeze blew in, and the dark of night dipped even darker. I blinked, and I was standing on the boat deck in bright summer sunlight. I blinked again, and the mountain bold that cradled the lake had dissolved around me. The borders of Nightfalls' lake softened by the second as I tried to steady myself, and the water that had been bound by its banks flowed outwards endlessly, until there was only blue as far as the eye could see. The Sargasso Sea stretched out around us, and beyond it, the Gulf Stream, the Azores Current, the Canary Current, the North Equatorial Current, and the Antilles Current. Far, far in the distance, the ocean rolled and roared, but beneath our boat, the Sargasso Sea was almost unnaturally still. All was quiet, and I was so awestruck by the way Nightfalls had simply fallen away with a wave of Cersei's hand that I didn't dare break the silence that had settled over us. Devani, Wanda, Lyra, Anwen, Cersei and I stood on deck, staring out at the endless expanse of azure blue that stretched out around us. The Sargasso Sea was as calm as the skies above, and just a few shades bluer. There was no wind blowing across its surface, no waves to push us off course. There was just perfect, endless stillness, and I was intent on soaking it in. Our boat didn't sail, it drifted, and I was more than content with that. We had nowhere to be, nothing to do, nothing to race home for. So that day, we let ourselves wash across the sea, bordered not by land, but by more water. It felt like we'd drifted for hours, blue above and below, fusing together until the world could have turned upside down, and I wouldn't have noticed. Sometimes the sea was the bluer of the two, and sometimes it was the sky. Sometimes they were painted from the same part of the palette, and the horizon became impossible to make out. In that endless azure time unraveled around us. There was no knowing where we had drifted from, or where we were drifting to. We drifted through calm itself, and I fought off the need for sleep as it settled on my shoulders, and seeped into my thoughts. When we finally spotted the first bloom of Sargasso, floating on the surface of the water, it stood out so starkly against the ceaseless blue that it was impossible to miss. Slowly, steadily, our boat drifted toward that cloud of gold sitting atop the water. When we were close enough, I leaned over the back of the boat and fished out a piece of the seaweed to inspect. It wasn't as soft or as slimy as I had imagined it might be. Sargasso's seaweed had a strong stem and golden leaves that reminded me of the undergrowth in Nightfall's Forest. There was so much of it, and it was so dense that when our boat first pulled alongside the matted golden leaves, I thought there was no way we would be able to pass through it. Perhaps we should turn back, Lyra suggested, sounding a little unsure. The Sargasso is free floating, and we're assured her. It's so only thick on the water's surface, so we should be able to pass through it easily. I wasn't sure Annwin's words did much to ease Lyra's concerns. The matt, beside our sailing boat, stretched away from us for almost a mile, and appeared almost impossible to break apart. It was only when Lyra saw that our boat seemed to be passing through the weed without too much trouble that she was finally able to relax. She settled in a sunny spot, stretching out on deck, and it was only then that I was reminded of the time. In our bodies, at least, it was the middle of the night. The fact that Cersei was powerful enough to pull the sun back into the sky so we could explore the marine jungle did nothing to chase the exhaustion from my shoulders once it had settled there. Wake me when the stars come out, Lyra told Devani, before rolling over and drifting off. Minutes later, her snores were underscoring our journey through the marine jungle. The Sargasum Matt was as dense as the Amazon rainforest, and with our boat bobbing right through the middle of it, it felt just as vast and sprawling. When the sun began to set over the Sargasum sea that night, the weeds it was so famous for glistened gold. If it's not attached to the seabed, how does it grow? I put it to the group. My voice loosed so as not to disturb Lyra. I think the process is called fragmentation, one that's applied. Broken pieces of the seaweed grow into independent mats of their own over time. The water is perfect for the process here. It's warm and nutrient rich, and the sea is still enough that the newly forming mats don't get torn out. Sargasum can appear in any sea, but it's rare that it's able to flourish like this. This stretch of still water is the only place a marine jungle like this one could accumulate. I looked at the Sargasum stretching around us. I peered beyond its glittering gold, and noticed the fish darting between the weeds. The closer I looked, the more I saw. There weren't just a few fish, there was an entire world of them. I didn't notice the Sargasum frogfish at first. Its scales were the same browns and gold as the seaweed mat itself. Even when it darted between the weeds, it was hard to catch sight of. When I did finally manage to follow one through a thinned out patch of the Sargasum forest, it was chasing after the tiniest of shrimp. I almost celebrated when the frogfish was knocked off its course by a bigger fish making its way through the mat, and the little shrimp escaped. That's mahi mahi, Cersei said fondly. Sometimes they're known as dolphin fish, but they aren't actually related to dolphins. The mahi mahi scale suggested it was about as distant a relative of the dolphin as myself and my friends were. Its scales faded from aquamarine blue that the light danced over in bolts, through lime green, and into the brightest of lemon yellows. Why are they known as dolphin fish if there is no relation? I had to ask. The older males have a blunt head shape that vaguely resembles that of a dolphin. In most parts of the world, the fish is called mahi mahi though. It's a Hawaiian phrase that means very strong, and they are. The dolphin fish is a particularly strong swimmer. One pointed to the one cutting through the sargassum in the shadows cast by the bow of the boat. That one is only a baby. Barely half the size it will be when it's fully grown, and it will already be capable of swimming around 2,000 kilometers a month. It was hard to imagine that fish fighting its way through thousands of miles of ocean. But I suppose not all creatures were as content to linger in stillness as my friends and I were. We liked our odd adventures, but when they were over, and sleep was crowding into the corners of our minds, we wanted nothing more than to return home and settle into sleep. We wiled away the last of the daylight hours on the boat deck, watching the young Jacks, Mackerel and Marlon flitting through the sargassum forest. I recalled how difficult I had found it navigating a path through the Amazon rainforest on my travels as a young man, and how grateful I'd been to have a guide leading me through the trees safely. I couldn't help but wonder how the fish ever managed to find their way around that marine metropolis. It was one thing to make your way across a fixed forest, but another entirely, to make your way out when the forest itself was moving with the current and growing by the second. The fish that made their home in the sargassum, however, seemed perfectly at ease with the labyrinth sprawling around them. The sargassum swimming crabs are my favourite, Cersei Marvelled. Their vicious little critters coloured just like the frog fish to blend into the seaweed. A lot of log-ahead sea turtles swim in these parts, and when they're younger, the little crabs will actually live on their backs. They look just like normal crabs, but at their back they have modified paddles for swimming. They live up by the surface of the water, not on the seabed, and feed on small fish and shrimp. The camouflage is so good that when they're old enough to hunt, they usually strike before their prey has even spotted them. Devaney joined Lyra and stretched out on the boat deck. The gold of sunset settled over her skin, and I thought it would be impossible to look away, but when a pod of whale surfaced just beyond the sargassum mat, I'll admit I was distracted. Wanda's glasses slipped from the bridge of her nose as she stood watching a whale spouting water in awe. The whales were the ocean's biggest mammals and the gentlest of giants. They were so calm that I couldn't help feeling at peace in their presence. I think those are humpbacks, Wanda whispered, and as if the whales heard her, one leapt from the water. Its calf tried to follow as best it could, but flopped unceremoniously into the water with a splash. The whales leapt into the sunset again, and as they splashed back into the water, breaching the edge of the golden sargassum mat, the seaweed dispersed. They swam slowly through the marine jungle, and I watched in awe as the weed parted for their noses, then came back together at the tips of their tails as they swam on by. That evening was so quiet that if I listened closely, I could hear the whale song carrying through the water. Did you know, Wanda whispered, unable to keep the fact to herself, some whale songs can last as long as 30 minutes. The song that we were gifted that evening by the ocean's gentle giants sounded as though it had been sung a thousand times over at the setting of just as many suns. It was a slow, sleepy sort of song that had my eyes growing heavy, and my heart settling. And as the sun bit us good night with a final fiery flourish blazing across the sky, I watched the hatchlings and the fish that hadn't yet earned all their scales, settling in for sleep, the sargassum provided somewhere safe they could rest up for the night. It offered shelter, hiding places, food and warmth, just as the densest parts of it offered somewhere for migrating birds to stop and rest for the night. I watched a white-bellied bird with a long red beak swoop down, and settle on the matted sargassum. His little chest puffed in and out as he caught his breath, and gradually it slowed and steadied as he settled into a much needed sleep. Sailors have always avoided the sargassus sea, Cersei hummed over the whale song. They were so sure that the low wind and flat waters would see them drifting slowly for months that they scarcely ventured through these parts. Good thing we have nowhere we need to be then, I smiled. And as I stretched out on the deck that night, I was beyond blessed to find that it was the truth. We had all the time in the world, and when the stars finally came out that night, I still wished that we could have had even more hours drifting beneath them. The whale song was steady, a lullaby trying me deeper into relaxation. With every passing moment, its higher notes and did the tension tangle deep in my mind, and its low notes gently vibrated the deck beneath me. I felt that song in the very fibre of my being. I knew it. I felt that song in the very fibre of my being. I knew it in my bones. That night, the sargassus sea very own lullaby was playing through my soul as I gazed up at the stars above me. For a long time, Cersei yawned. No one could figure out where European eels came from. You can imagine everyone's surprise when they finally realised that the eels had migrated 10,000 km from here where their lives began. The journey is unbelievably long, but no one is confused as to why they make it. The eels begin their lives in a place as peaceful as this, and when they are ready to spawn, they come back here. When they pass, it is here among the golden sargassus where the waters are still, the winds gentle, and the weather fair. She finished with a sleepy smile, and I couldn't stifle my yawn. Eventually, I gave up the fight to keep my eyes open and listened lazily as Cersei explained that the sargassus sea overlapped with the Bermuda Triangle. As a boy, I'd always been fascinated by the stories that came out of the area, and I felt the shape of my dreams shifting as a sense of mystery settled in my mind. Plato called this place the impossible sea. He believed that the sargassumats were actually mud flats, that the water was shallow, and that this was the very place that the lost city of Atlantis sank. Do you believe that, as the line between wake and sleep started to blur for me? I know where Atlantis is, and we are a long way from it. As I drifted off, I could almost hear the longing in the demi goddess's voice. I felt the boat bobbing ever so gently beneath me, and I felt my thoughts fade and fuse as the borders of my mind opened up. I found myself drift across the sargassus sea, drift into my dreams, and drift deep into the most peaceful of sleeps. We'll leave our story there for tonight. Sargassus sea sounds wondrous, doesn't it? Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. Sleep well, and sweet dreams. 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