Halcyon Days Ahead!

In keeping with the warm weather theme, I present you this little tale of warm weather sailing. It had ought to be enough to keep the snow's chill at bay! Enjoy.

"Halcyon days ahead!" Shouting my mantra as the craft slipped across crest and settled in trough, repeating the rhythmic pattern of sea travel. A long journey lay ahead. Hardship to be sure, but also joy and freedom. I yearned for rigors and tests, imagining the rewards to be gained.

Brilliant boasts like "Tame the bloody sea!" could be heard if any sailors close enough there were. Sails puffed out slapped by a stiff breeze on our clear star-strewn night and land no longer in sight.

The subtle changes are a dark wind, numbing my lips and cheeks. Eight weeks of illness isolated on my ship. I skirted the shoals of sheer cliffs of stone. Islands with no beach, welcoming me with sharp crags and jetties. Panic gripped me when I spied reefs beneath the waves again and again. Fatigue dared to steal consciousness. But the rigging remained taut, sails filled, so I choicelessly steered south powered by the salty breeze. My stomach churned in a nest of rot.

I re-focused on a sunlit glade, blue-green waters lapping my tanned face. How long had I slumbered here in the waters? I had always wanted to believe in magic, wished for it as a youth. I knew, I just knew magic flowed through the earth, the sky, the water and through me.

The glade's detail, so convincing in it's depth made me proud. Proud that I could hallucinate so completely. I stood, a foreign object amidst perfection and waded out of the pool and onto the sand. Color exploded in the surrounding thicket. Frond of palms, ferns unfurled, one bright yellow bird. It cocked its head indicating curiosity. A curt nod and then it was aloft, spiraling to the sun, leaving me grounded. My naked feet tickled as I staggered amongst feathers. A toe imprinted soft wax.

I sailed on, unable to ignore my severely cramping stomach. Buffeted by a minor gale, my sun-bleached hair whipped unto my eyes and caught in my mouth leaving the dry crackle salt grease taste behind. Pink and crimson overlap the horizon as I give chase o'er the sea.

Sails fell slack as night stretched over me, arching her sleek back across the sky, dampening the red blaze of the sinking star. Resting her shoulders on the horizon, her arms spread north and south. Her charcoal screen pinned to the sky morphs to deeper shades of black.

I watch. I am mesmerized. I do not steer. I do not care. Picking up her head from the horizon line, two flaming blue star-eyes shine briefly, then wink out. The dark is now thick and hopeless. No wind. I take in the sails preparing for my own sleep. Lying upon the quarterdeck, the craft picks its own course. Weeks become months and no beach to moor.