This is the first part of a currently untitled project. I believe I might combine all pieces & create a short story. Just a possibility.


Untitled I

As the rain set in he awoke from a drunken slumber. The sudden feeling of discomfort and deja-vu pained the very skin he possessed, and the man was left with a sick emotion. A muted passage of light struck his eyes, bringing forward a hidden pleasure. He carried to his face a content expression and expanded his nostrils to let pass the salty ocean breeze. Blue were the waves, though a radiant blue as if they were artificial. He often found himself describing them internally, noting every hue they turned and each crashing sound that came between. It was something he performed unconsciously and was often forgotten about afterwords.

Craving the guise of exquisite colours which thundered before him on the sand-dusted earth, his mellowed eyes took in the sea-side view with satisfaction--nothing new to awe over, just clearly the same scene as the day before. The vision of the isolated beach brought back a fading memory: silent, intoxicated, and lost. His name--Bastian--was also recovered. The young man had spent the previous night toasting alcohol with the crude looters from the port and apparently ended it with crashing unconscious hours later.

Without hesitation, Bastian slid a trembling hand over his hip and found his petite sack of coins still hanging in it's place. He worried that his new comrades had stolen his only belongings, but concluded they were too intoxicated to do anything at all. A thin sigh of relief escaped past his coral lips and left him to shut the heavy lids of his eyes. He was numb for the moment and dreaming of a possible future. The day contrived numerous tasks for the man, but held such tasks secret until a moment in time when it seemed fit to demand.

A warming gust of sea breath whisked around Bastian's limp figure, tugging with amusement at his threads of gold. The morning sun was still sleeping low to the water and appeared almost too quiet, as though it were plotting a terrible scheme. Bastian laughed in the soft glow of sunrise; he laughed at the waves that swelled with every inhale and he laughed at the sea's vulnerable appeal. His eyes of a somber blue awakened as he exhaled the effortless mirth.

"Dear morningtide!" he sang, his youthful hands held to the sun. "Your handsome face carries so much merriment to the servants of your hour!"




Words by Kerra Dolarhyde
Read 482 times
Written on 2006-01-11 at 08:29

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