Blinking, I lean forwards to rest my head on the seat back in front of me. It is uncomfortable, I twist and turn. Out the window I see the sky is dark and stars start appearing off to my left, behind me. There are no lights or buildings or any signs of life before the dark shade line where the night sky meets the night land. A click and my reflection snaps in front of the stars, I stare at myself backlit by an interior light. A rustling noise and then, click, darkness wraps around my shadowed complexion. Outside the darkness extends again, punctuated by stars.
Stars provide my only light. The ship rolls and twists over the miles of angry, boiling ocean. The cold, driving rain soaking through clothing, skin, bones, even my mind drips moistly with oceanic spray. The howling wind blistering the exposed quarter of an inch strip of skin around my eyes, the salt stinging and blinding. I sit with my head thrown backwards to watch the starry scene above, bodies of my sleeping crew press down heavy from left and right, leaving patches of numbness and warmth. Lookouts stand lonely in position off to port and starboard, humming, whistling, singing to calm the furious, rolling ocean. The helmsman is hunched over the compass, concentrated totally on keeping course as the ocean is a beast relentlessly slamming left and right to throw us off course. The stars wink down on me as I gaze at them. Spreading to the distant horizon they are like nothing I could ever imagine in my light-blind nights; way off in the ocean no light breaks or interrupts the turning stars. Only the dawn, still far-off over desert Africa, can interrupt. The sight of the blanket above me makes me small; their immensity shrinks me as I stare up. The ocean rolling, the stars turning. I sit on this empty expanse of ocean, no light blinds me from the stars and I am small, the universe explodes around me and whatever I do has no consequence. I relax under sleeping bodies. Feeling free from all need and want. I am truly unimportant in the universal scheme of things. Beside me someone stirs, murmurs, pointing blurry eyed vaguely toward the moon just breaking the horizon behind us, I look up to where it floats on the black canopy of night. Floating as it did over the distant desert shores. Here the Moon is a thin piece of peel, discarded and left on the side of the bowl of the sky. A bright shining curved hole in the black canvas of sky. Even the immense heavenly scythe blade is shrunk against the backdrop of a million stars. Beside me dark bodies settle on my shoulder again to sleep. I sit flexing my feet their soaked socks, feeling water slosh silently around my toes while I watch the stars, feeling the rocking of the ship in the storm, listening to the ocean wash against the hull.
Waves break slowly, they roll on and on interminably up the gently sloping beach, they wash on up the beach forever. I watch the waves, waves on waves, in endless lines advancing to die on the sandy beach. Immense power of the ocean destroyed by these tiny particles of sand, the ocean finally beaten after thousands of miles. Their gentle death soothes me after a long, hot day. The sun splashes noiselessly onto the distant horizon as the night races over the cliffs behind me, wading violently out over the ocean. In the quiet twilight my driftwood fire flickers and snaps; a spot of warmth and light against the sand and the endless ocean. Dancing angrily it burns on, seducing moths into its dangerous light, picking up dark fleeting shadows of patrolling sea birds passing me by. From my sandy seat the only light is the fire, with stars and moon hidden behind thick clouds. Signs of civilisation tucked secretly behind towering black cliffs. I unroll my sleeping bag on the beach, tucked far up against the cliffs. I curl into the sleeping bag as the first drops of rain hiss and spit on the angry fire.
Stars provide my only light. The ship rolls and twists over the miles of angry, boiling ocean. The cold, driving rain soaking through clothing, skin, bones, even my mind drips moistly with oceanic spray. The howling wind blistering the exposed quarter of an inch strip of skin around my eyes, the salt stinging and blinding. I sit with my head thrown backwards to watch the starry scene above, bodies of my sleeping crew press down heavy from left and right, leaving patches of numbness and warmth. Lookouts stand lonely in position off to port and starboard, humming, whistling, singing to calm the furious, rolling ocean. The helmsman is hunched over the compass, concentrated totally on keeping course as the ocean is a beast relentlessly slamming left and right to throw us off course. The stars wink down on me as I gaze at them. Spreading to the distant horizon they are like nothing I could ever imagine in my light-blind nights; way off in the ocean no light breaks or interrupts the turning stars. Only the dawn, still far-off over desert Africa, can interrupt. The sight of the blanket above me makes me small; their immensity shrinks me as I stare up. The ocean rolling, the stars turning. I sit on this empty expanse of ocean, no light blinds me from the stars and I am small, the universe explodes around me and whatever I do has no consequence. I relax under sleeping bodies. Feeling free from all need and want. I am truly unimportant in the universal scheme of things. Beside me someone stirs, murmurs, pointing blurry eyed vaguely toward the moon just breaking the horizon behind us, I look up to where it floats on the black canopy of night. Floating as it did over the distant desert shores. Here the Moon is a thin piece of peel, discarded and left on the side of the bowl of the sky. A bright shining curved hole in the black canvas of sky. Even the immense heavenly scythe blade is shrunk against the backdrop of a million stars. Beside me dark bodies settle on my shoulder again to sleep. I sit flexing my feet their soaked socks, feeling water slosh silently around my toes while I watch the stars, feeling the rocking of the ship in the storm, listening to the ocean wash against the hull.
Waves break slowly, they roll on and on interminably up the gently sloping beach, they wash on up the beach forever. I watch the waves, waves on waves, in endless lines advancing to die on the sandy beach. Immense power of the ocean destroyed by these tiny particles of sand, the ocean finally beaten after thousands of miles. Their gentle death soothes me after a long, hot day. The sun splashes noiselessly onto the distant horizon as the night races over the cliffs behind me, wading violently out over the ocean. In the quiet twilight my driftwood fire flickers and snaps; a spot of warmth and light against the sand and the endless ocean. Dancing angrily it burns on, seducing moths into its dangerous light, picking up dark fleeting shadows of patrolling sea birds passing me by. From my sandy seat the only light is the fire, with stars and moon hidden behind thick clouds. Signs of civilisation tucked secretly behind towering black cliffs. I unroll my sleeping bag on the beach, tucked far up against the cliffs. I curl into the sleeping bag as the first drops of rain hiss and spit on the angry fire.
The next part is due for release tomorrow.
Thank you for visiting.
All stories and works in their complete form are available in the bookstore, to visit click here.
Thank you for visiting.
All stories and works in their complete form are available in the bookstore, to visit click here.