Red Dawn (written in june of 2007)

The ship rocked back and forth, its thick birch planks creaking with the lap of every salty wave against the sea-washed hull. Its once-elaborate carvings now beaten, chipped and hacked, a testament to its years of service traversing uncharted waters and escaping doom on more than one occasion. The rising sun shone through the tattered sails, which were still leaking rain water and blood. The upper deck reeked of death, bodies strewn everywhere, being tossed overboard by the surviving crew. The taste of victorious rum was still on their lips, and the sweat of a hard night of pillaging still on their brow. The calm waters beneath them broke with every body thrown over, leaving small pools of blood in their wake – a treat for the aquatic predators that surely waited nearby for their portion of the spoils. Land was nothing but a mere speck in the vast distance behind the vessel’s barnacled rudder.

A large, dark figure in a black overcoat and black trousers emerged onto the deck from the cabin below. The figure’s heavy boots echoed with every step, carrying an ominous presence that caused the crew working on deck to stop their work, waiting. Black tresses of hair, pulled back in a red bandana, flowed passed the shoulders, resting along her slim back. She wiped her sooty cheek with her forearm, smearing the open scar that was still weeping blood mixed with dirt, sweat and sea water. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I love the smell of sea and blood in the morning,” she said, her voice deep and raspy.

In her hand, she held a half-empty bottle of rum.

“Back to work, men! We reach our new port of call at sundown!”

As if broken from their trance, the crew continued on with their duties as she took to the helm, guiding her vessel, The Scarlet Revenge, along its charted course. The sun was warm on her back, the breeze cool on her face, and there was a cargo bay full of precious loot resting beneath her feet. She smiled. Oh yes, it was going to be a good day – a good day indeed.

———-

I came across this old snippet of mine. I enjoyed it so much, I thought I’d post it here

Reading Glasses

With each turn of the page, windows to new worlds burst open, overwhelming my senses. To some, it is only paper and ink, but looking though my time-worn spectacles, their black, steel frames littered with microscopic scratches, it is a passport, a teleporter, a ticket – to my freedom.

Turn once. The crisp page crackles under my dry fingers. A warm breeze caresses my face, a seagull squawking in the distance. Waves of white wash onto the soft sand, pulling back with them whatever small creatures are caught in their grasp. Tiny feet scuttle across the soppy shore, scooping up a peice of brittle ivory. Another addition to a growing collection. I reach too, wanting to take with me one of nature’s souveniers, but alas, my time has come.

Turn twice. A smudge of jelly stains the paper before I bring about a moist finger to wipe it away. The cool mist settles on my bones, the sun’s last rays disappearing over the mountain’s ridge. Crickets begin their symphony in unison, the opening number to the wilderness’ lullaby. Dry leaves rustle in the shadows, the creaking of a taut bow disrupting the owl’s concerto. A strand of hair dances in the breeze before it is tucked away behind a pointed ear. Whip. Whistle. The wooden arrow sings as it darts towards the target. Suddenly, silence settles over the trees, the ochestra appauled at the interruption. Squeal. Anguish. Plop. The ranger steps out of her hiding place, concealed by her tattered cloak, her hair tucked within the hood. The moonlight glimmers as she flashes a smirk, gripping the large bow in her hand. She breaks off into a run, her boots creating only a faint noise. I wish to join her, but my time has once again come just as the fireflies begin to dance to the orchestra’s next peice. 

Turn thrice. My palm brushes aside three lone cookie crumbs that have ventured onto the smooth page. As they fall to the floor, an intense heat overtakes me. The crumbs disappear into a lake of fire and lava below my perch on a soft cloud. I shield my eyes as a bright sword clashes with another: one gold and majestic, the other twisted and gnarled. Above me, hordes of men in golden breastplates and regal robes face off a legion of sharp-toothed creatures covered in boils and disfigurements. Despite their poor appearance, they too wield dangerous weapons and are covered in armour of iron. A trumpet blasts, the sound defeaning yet pure, striking fear and respect. I am covered in goosebumps.

And suddenly, my glasses slip off my nose. My goosebumps are gone. The air conditioner hums softly. I am sitting in my favorite armchair, its plush cushions hugging me gently. The time has come. The windows are shut. Tomorrow is another day. I wipe my brow and a small trace of ash rests on the back of my hand. Tomorrow is another day.

Shrouded

Uncertainty grips my soul. A mist has rolled across the clearly marked path ahead, making it difficult to see much more than a few feet in front of me. The sky is dark with ominous clouds, bright flashes of light bouncing off of them, illuminating a surreal eternity of gray. I keep to the path because I know it’s what I was instructed. But what if I stumble? What if a jagged rock cuts my foot and I am unable to walk further? I’d be undone. Doubt floods my mind as roaring thunder threatens to break open the heavens and let the rains wash me away. My pace slows and I begin looking to my left and to my right. If I could only see a little bit more into the future and see where I was headed.

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

Psalm 46:10 carries softly in the wind that brushes my face.

I stop, my feet no longer moving. The mist increases, shrouding the path even more.

Another voice whispers in the rustling of nearby trees:

“Act according to the law they teach you and the decisions they give you. Do not turn aside from what they tell you, to the right or to the left.”

I look ahead. The bolts of lightning are fierce and the wind is picking up.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Joshua 1:9 echoes stronger than the others. The voice is not in the rustling of the trees or in the thunder of the skies. It is coming from my heart, where the words are written, along with these:

“Your word is a lamp to my feet And a light to my path.” – Psalm 119:105

I look ahead and in the distance is a small glimmer. A light perhaps, the end to this boisterous storm. Or maybe something much more terrifying. But my spirits are lifted now. I feel stronger and my feet move in confident stride.

It begins to rain and I am without an umbrella.

I am to face this test alone and yet not, for I remember Joshua 1:9.

Bring it on.