Deep sea Desires

Chapter 1

"Come on Cal, you have to wake up."

First came the sound of my brother's voice, then the violent shaking. Following, the dry taste in my mouth from dehydration, the feeling of my body against the bed, and finally the brightness of the sunlight streaming through the window. It was so bright, I refused to open my eyes, not yet awake enough to form speech.

I rolled over, and the next thing I know, I'm being pried away from my incoming dreams by the sharp cold hitting my face. Jamie always knew how to wake me up effectively, even if it meant I hated his guts for a little while.

"What the hell was that for?!" I screamed as I launched a pillow at his face, which he dodged with ease.

"But you're awake now, correct?" Jamie quipped, adding a small chuckle as if he were taunting me.

"You're lucky father's coming home today," I grumbled, and that's when the excitement and adrenaline kicked in. "Father's coming home today!"

I leapt off the bed, racing towards the restroom so I could bathe myself and maintain proper hygiene (don't be an animal) before changing into my favorite blouse and pair of trousers. Once finished with prepping myself as much as I wanted, I joined Jamie for breakfast.

Our father was a merchant before being drafted into battle. We would go without seeing him for months on end, sometimes not even receiving the letters he would typically send each week. But when he was home, he always tried to make our time together the best moments, morphing into our favorite collective memories.

At the first knock on the front door, I was away from my seat with my hand in the know, ready to see my father's face again.

Instead, what I saw was the look of despair on the face of a soldier.

"Hello sir," I managed to vocalize, adding a bow to show respect. I had never been face-to-face with the militia, let alone had one at my door. I could feel my brother's presence behind me, because the tension emanating from him was so thick, one could cut it with a butcher's knife.

"Good morning, children," replied the soldier with a bow if his own. "Is there any chance that Malcolm Glass lived here?"

Lived? Why was this man speaking of my father in the past tense?

"Yes, sir, he IS our father," I said, trying to emphasize the fact that he remained. Or so I thought.

"Children, I apologize for laying this burden upon you but..."

I could tell he was nervous for some reason, though I couldn't understand why. I looked to my brother, and was frightened by the look of pure sadness in his eyes.

"What's going on," I said in a panic, "Why won't someone tell me?!"

"Callie," I could hear Jamison say through the pounding of my heart, as he laid his hand on my shoulder.

"He's gone."

With those two words, my world shattered around me. I felt I couldn't do anything besides falling to my knees and crying, so that's what I did. I cried until I felt there couldn't be any more tears, and my knees began to feel the pressure of my bodyweight.

There were questions I wanted to ask the soldier, but couldn't bring myself to speak through the lump in my throat. But I could hear him conversing with my brother as I withered away, drowning in my own sobs.

The only piece of information I heard was that my father had died in a fight ensuing with a passing fleet of ships while out at sea two days ago. That inkling of knowledge sent me into a silent rage, igniting a flame that I didn't know how to use.

I was eighteen, Jamison was twenty.

- one week later ---------------------------------

Everyone invited to the funeral was prepared for the incoming storm. Everyone, except for me and Jamie, because we knew how much our father loved storms. He always said they reminded him of when we were born, and how much of a miracle it was to him that he got to have children with his late wife, our mother, Amira.

My mother died in childbirth when I was born. It's somewhat a miracle that I lived as well, given the multiple complications with my birth. Father would occasionally tell me how much I reminded him of her, with my tanned skin, deep red curly hair, and hunger for adventure.

I didn't wish to be seen soaked in my tears again, so I quickly said my goodbyes to my deceased parents and turned away in an attempt to calm down. I could hear my brother's footfalls on the ground as he walked up to hug me from behind. We sat there in silence until a man in an expensive-looking suit approached us.

"Excuse me, are the two of you Mr. Jamison Glass and Miss Calpernia Glass?" The words rolled from his lips to my ears like the oddest mixture of butter and sandpaper. I couldn't help but shudder in the arms of my brother.

"Yes, we are," Jamison replied, calm and composed, "What can we do for you?"

"Follow me please," the man answered, and just like that, we were following him through the hallways of a large estate and into an office. This strange man turned out to be quite hospitable, pulling out chairs for us to sit in front of a large oak desk, and offering us tea. I politely refused, as I've never been very fond of tea, which everyone makes fun of me for.

"I would like to speak with you of your father's will," the man said, after sitting behind his desk and introducing himself as Mr. Wellington. I will admit, I spaced out, ignoring the conversation, until one statement caught my ear.

"Your father requested that, upon his death, all of his treasured belongings are to be given to his children, as well as his ship, which he named the Miracle."

I couldn't help but smile, knowing that I had possession of the Miracle now. Father had built that ship with his own two hands, as well as some passerby that occasionally helped him. He put his heart and soul into the creation of the Miracle, and now it was mine.

It was the first time I had smiled in a week.

When we returned to our home, I rushed to my room to change. I remained in black for mourning, but decided to wear something more 'sea-worthy' than a long, stuffy dress. I have never been one for dresses or skirts, but Father would always get me some on his expeditions as a merchant if there ever came an event where I couldn't wear trousers.

I hadn't set foot on the boat since Father was first drafted over three years ago, so I became increasingly eager as I drew nearer to the docks. The clear blue of the sea was magnetic, pulling me forward until I was at the tip of the bow. I closed my eyes and allowed the sea salt to spray againt my face, feeling the cool air on my skin.

In this very moment, I felt closer to my father than I ever had reading his letters from the battle front. I felt the sting of threatening tears, so before they could escape, I took a deep breath, turned around, and headed home.

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Thank you to whoever decided to read the first chapter!! Please tell me, what did you think? What should I put in the next chapter? Please, I want your opinions so I can try to make this a good story for everyone to read!! Love yall ❤