shugzz
10-31-2006, 02:09 AM
Something fun I wrote mainly for entertainment, but I'd like to hear some thoughts. I'm new around here but I promise to repay anything and everything :wave:
Under a murderous sky. Riding the pressure
Of a thousand fathoms.
*******
The horizon shook its ash grey muzzle and began to weep.
Alone on the prow of his ship, the grizzled old Captain stood eyeing the sea spray. His leather brown skin creased and folded with the toil and tire of the years, one could count his wrinkles as one would count tree rings. That is, to little effect, but nevertheless beside the point altogether. The captain was weary of the ocean and her demands, he had long since tired of her song, her gentle lapping against the hull, her opaque hues layered upon the abysmal chasm. He turned up his collar against the wind.
From below came the thump of an ascending sailor. A white peak cap emerged.
“Captain…?”
The figure did not stir from the prow, the eyes did not leave the waves, acknowledgment, however, did somehow lodge itself in the crewman’s understanding.
“Captain I’ve come to tell you...”
A gnarled hand tightens on an oaken railing. Oak, that stiff, determined heart wood that made up the hull of his beloved ship. The sailor pauses, his virgin features suddenly unsure in the blustery air.
“Captain…”
“Out with it my boy.”
“We’ve…we’ve missed the shore.”
The wind picks up and pushes the Captain’s collar back down and blows his hat off. Briefly the Captain starts, then restores his attire.
“I know lad…I know.”
The white peaked cap bobbles its way back down, and alone, alone again the old man raises his sickly hands to the sky. And the waves rose and the undersea gaped and the sky was quiet. A magnificent conflict of currents smashes into the flagging galleon, and the ocean roars with a flood of guilt. And through the inferno, the thin, keening wail can be heard of a man who has loved and lost in the cold, lonely conformity of waves. A hopeless, useless, final observation.
Under a murderous sky. Riding the pressure
Of a thousand fathoms.
*******
The horizon shook its ash grey muzzle and began to weep.
Alone on the prow of his ship, the grizzled old Captain stood eyeing the sea spray. His leather brown skin creased and folded with the toil and tire of the years, one could count his wrinkles as one would count tree rings. That is, to little effect, but nevertheless beside the point altogether. The captain was weary of the ocean and her demands, he had long since tired of her song, her gentle lapping against the hull, her opaque hues layered upon the abysmal chasm. He turned up his collar against the wind.
From below came the thump of an ascending sailor. A white peak cap emerged.
“Captain…?”
The figure did not stir from the prow, the eyes did not leave the waves, acknowledgment, however, did somehow lodge itself in the crewman’s understanding.
“Captain I’ve come to tell you...”
A gnarled hand tightens on an oaken railing. Oak, that stiff, determined heart wood that made up the hull of his beloved ship. The sailor pauses, his virgin features suddenly unsure in the blustery air.
“Captain…”
“Out with it my boy.”
“We’ve…we’ve missed the shore.”
The wind picks up and pushes the Captain’s collar back down and blows his hat off. Briefly the Captain starts, then restores his attire.
“I know lad…I know.”
The white peaked cap bobbles its way back down, and alone, alone again the old man raises his sickly hands to the sky. And the waves rose and the undersea gaped and the sky was quiet. A magnificent conflict of currents smashes into the flagging galleon, and the ocean roars with a flood of guilt. And through the inferno, the thin, keening wail can be heard of a man who has loved and lost in the cold, lonely conformity of waves. A hopeless, useless, final observation.