An Ocean Away

Chapter 06

I was running. I had no reason to run. No one was following me and most of the quiet town was still asleep yet I still found myself running through the winding, cobblestone streets. The sun ass just starting to rise over the horizon, slowly changing the color of the sky. When I awoke, the morning was dark, shaded a deep, dark blue reflected from the ocean and the moon, and now radiant colors of gold, pink and purple crept their way through the clouds and skyline.

My lungs burned deeply and my feet carried me closer to the harbor as I attempted to shake out the thoughts and images of what my mothers face would look like when she finds my letter. I had no time to doubt, I had no time for indecision and uncertainty. Right now my focus was pushing past the gusts of wind pulling me back home and my leadened feet that seem to become heavier with every step I took down the mountain.

When I made it to the final hill, the one that would put me on the harbor, I stopped at the top. Staring out at the ocean and the glowing horizon that seems to never end and inhaling all the fresh, cool air into my chest. Just for that moment I let a tear fall onto my cheek. The wind dries it immediately, as if telling me that I had no right to cry. It was right of course, I had no right to cry, but still I let another one spill over, just one more. I let myself feel the ache of guilt, letting it skate over my skin like a bolt of lightning shooting through a night sky.

The sun begins to slowly peek it's sleepy head up from its resting place and I shakily release that breath that I held in my lungs. I've always known the science of how the sun functions. I know there is only one that dances across the sky for everyone to enjoy, just at different times. But I could never stop myself from thinking that this one, the one that greeted my home with warm rays of light and gifted us with colors hard to match on canvas, this one felt like our own personal sun.

I let myself mourn for it, our personal sun. Just as I let myself mourn for the lighthouse at the top of the mountain, the marketplace, the colorful homes, the ever constant blowing wind, the smell of salt water and wet grass. I let myself mourn for it all. My home. A moment longer, I tell myself. I want a moment longer to take it all in, closing my eyes so that I don't forget the sounds, the smells and the feeling that this place gives me.

Once I open them, I am running again. Down the hill and towards the harbor, I am running as fast as my feet can take me. The wind blowing stronger the closer I get to the dock, practically begging me to stay home. I don't listen. I continue to push past it.

When I make it to the Bella Rose's dock, Finn greets me with a smile. I try to smile back but it feels forced, sad and he sees it.

"Are you sure?" He asks at the bottom of the ramp that leads into the ship, "You don't have to do this."

I turn away from him and look up at the mountain, homes, shops and markets scattered unevenly through the cracks and crevices of the range. Not a town separate from the mountain, but built into it. Moving and curving and winding around the trees and boulders. This would be the last time I look at it for a long time, so I engrave it to memory.

"There is nothing left for me here." I lie as I turn back to face him, "I am sure."

And so we board onto the ship, his arm around my neck and mine around his waist, saying our silent goodbyes to the only place we've ever known to be home.

~

As I'm hanging my head over the edge of the ship, I feel another wave of sickness roll over me. It felt similar to the ones that slowly rocked the ship back and forth. I groan as the nausea, having nothing to grab on to in my empty stomach, turns itself around and around, then slowly traveling its way to my head.

I had never felt this type of sickness before. I type that left you feeling dizzy, faint and unsteady. I've been unfortunate enough to have felt the side effects of the ever constant moving sea since the first hour aboard. And during the entire four days we've been traveling, the ocean never settled herself once.