The Death Song | ✓

1| The tale

The cold air coming from the sea had reddened the little boy's fingertips. He waited at the shore patiently for hours, waiting for the ship to appear on the horizon. If he closed his eyes to try to imagine it, he could see it so vividly in his head.

The body was made of garnet-red wood. The once pearl-color sails had now yellowed from the salt and the sun. They were patched up in places, where they were damaged from time and adventurous, stormy nights out at sea . The ship wasn't as big as some others the young one has seen, but this one was so much more special. His father would always stand in the forecastle deck, as the proud captain of Lucia, with the crew following his every order as they flew through the deep blue sea.

The boy had been waiting for hours until his mother scolded him for the hundredth time and told him to come inside. The moon shone brightly in the freezing night, the night Lucia was supposed to dock. A letter was sent to their small house on the hill, announcing the ship's arrival. When the boy saw the letter he knew it was his father. A trident was stamped on the wax seal and he could depict the stretched-out and messy handwriting to be just like the other letters he had received from Lucia. His father told him about all the amazing things he couldn't wait to tell him and how soon enough the ship would return home.

The fire crackled as the boy sat in front of it, warming up his hands and feet. His mother had already prepared some stew to eat, but he refused to eat anything. His eyes were glued to the window, from which a view of the endless sea stretched into the horizon. Sleep couldn't weigh down his eyes, no matter how late it was getting . It had been months since he had seen his father and he couldn't wait a minute longer.

The fire had been a good distraction for the little boy's longing . Every once in a while he would pick up a piece of wood with his small arms and put it in. As he put a new one, the wood crackled as it was engulfed by the flames . His mother went to the window and peeked outside and her face lit up at the ship's silhouette approaching the shore.

"They are coming!" She looked back at her son as he jumped from his warm seat. He bolted outside, barefooted and without a jacket. His feet barely touched the wet grass as he sprinted down the hill almost tripping over a few times. His mother upon seeing him, shook her head with a slight smile on her face, grabbed his belongings and started walking behind him.

With the ship getting closer, the boy's feet started picking up speed. He kept tripping and was often close to falling, but he managed to regain balance and stay on his feet every time. He finally reached the shore and couldn't stand still. He jumped from one side to the other not only from excitement but also from the cold that was now catching up to him. His mother eventually caught up with him and draped his jacket on his small shoulders.

The boy squinted and noticed the faint outline of his father's figure in the forecastle deck, just where he expected him to be. He started waving and screaming his greetings. He heard his father's voice soon after, followed by a wave mirroring his.

Mother and son waited for the ship. The crew was running around the deck, preparing for docking. Finally, after months, Lucia was back home. One by one, the crew stepped on the sand. They were all so different. Some were tall and muscular; some were tall and thin ; some were short and bubbly; some had a missing arm or leg.

Each scar on their body had a story to tell and most of them weren't pleasant. Asking a sailor about their scars was like asking about their most traumatic experiences. Even when they thought nothing could surprise them anymore, they were proven wrong. It didn't matter what they looked like though, they were all an essential part of Lucia. They greeted the boy, but he ignored them as he was looking only for one person.

Finally, his father came into sight. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a strong build, wearing a dark blue tunic with a thick brown belt and old brown boots. He had a short beard and messy black hair, with a few silver strands starting to show and multiply. He smiled brightly at his family and opened his arms for his son, bending down a little so he could hop on easily. The boy jumped into his father's arms and was tearing up a little, but wiped his tears. He was a big boy, there was no place for tears. He was even taking care of his mother and became the man of the house while his father was away .