Mist,Marooned



The Pine needle rain was hurting him again,and it seemed like the night would not whisper console anymore..

Fourteen months,it had been.Fourteen months since the Captain was last sure about the weather,since the one steady brow on the glass eyed tube and a smoking pipe lied to him.Quite convincingly.Fourteeen months,he thinks it has been,since he tasted the ocean salt and heard the rotting wood gurgle away into the dark blue.

He had never learnt to write.A sailor never needed to.The only two names he had ever bothered with were his and his Captain's.Not because he had loved the captain,but because he wouldn't be a sailor without the Captain.It had come in to good use too.Everyday he would write his captain's name on the white sand and urge the sea to wash it away.Little by Little.Everyday he wished he wouldn't have to do that again.Every night he Wept....
*
WALTER DRAKE

WALTE

WA

..
*

The highest cave was his home.Hope greeted every new sun and stars twinkled despair all along.Leaves had covered his body well and the fish would roast quite perfectly.He had survived,he had learnt to survive here.He was a sailor.

Survival was his greatest fear....

The Green peak at the right end of the island was his heaven.He would talk to the rocks when he felt alone..


He could not remember if she worn red or blue at the harbour.He could not remember if she had brought the dog along.He could not remember about wether the wind had been playing the hair.He could not remember if the sun was setting an orange hue.All he could remember was the salty tearful kiss which told him all he to ever needed know,all he ever longed to know.That she would be waiting...and the good bye smile.

Sometimes,the clouds would mimic her face and he would talk about the many worlds he had seen.Sometimes she wouldn't be there,and he would bother the growing plants instead.Sometimes he would just stare.
Sometimes even the mist seemed sad.Marooned.


He would talk to the rocks when he felt alone.The Green peak at the right end of the island was his hell..

5 comments:

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  2. Good story telling...I would have liked to see the island a bit more, and a little more into his psyche...how does he look? What was he like on the ship? But maybe you dont want us to see that eh? :)

    Scribblers Inc.

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  3. scribblers...thank you...

    apart from what i tried writing here,i dint actually think about anything else..

    i guess every body would have their own sailor..and would him there..

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