A Tale of Love and Sea [Side Story]

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"Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no man could ever reach its depth; many mountains, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above. There dwells the God of the Seas and his Sons. We must not imagine that there is nothing at the bottom of the sea but bare yellow sand. No, indeed; the most singular flowers and plants grow there; the leaves and stems of which are so pliant, that the slightest agitation of the water causes them to stir as if they had life. Fishes, both large and small, glide between the branches, as birds fly among the trees here upon land. In the deepest spot of all, stands the citadel of the Sea God. Its walls are built of coral and jade, and the long windows are of the clearest amber. The roof is formed of shells, that open and dose as the water flows over them. Their appearance is very beautiful; for in each lies a glittering pearl, which would be fit for the diadem of a queen."

The young boy closed his favorite book in the first paragraph, as he heard his name being called in the distance. It was his sixth birthday, but the party his parents organized for him was far from being as colorful and fantastic as he would have liked it to be. There were no other children to run around with, play games with, get wet in the sea, hide, or even accidentally get hurt.

"I'm going!" he yelled back, his face scrunched as he muttered. "There's nothing nice to do and I can't even come over here and play."

There were only adults at the party, all of them very well dressed and each with a glass of a drink that he wouldn't be allowed to drink. Bored, he went to his room to play alone; and though he had all the latest toys, his favorites were the ones the housemaids brought him. Like that old book beaten and chewed at the corners.

In addition to the simple gifts that he kept there in the attic where he slept, the boy also remembered the fantastic stories that the maids told him while they took care of his bath, changed his clothes soiled with sand, fed him for the day or helped him with his math homework. Everything he did was inside that mansion, as he lived far away from the city with his parents. So he spent the day listening to the songs and tales of the high seas which they told him; about how the fish in the ocean spoke to each other, how the colors of the forests in the sea were different from those on land, how there were citadels where you could breathe under the sea, and many other ancient tales. The little affection he had was undoubtedly thanks to those caretakers and maids at the mansion.

He left the book on top of a small pile of other books at his bedside and went back down the steps to the hall to be greeted by some old guest of his father's who had just arrived at the manor. His father was a very famous man, at least he imagined, for the number of people who adored and fawned over him in that mansion when they were invited. Owner of a huge maritime conglomerate, the boy lacked nothing, son of a very wealthy family.

Soon he was abandoned by the adults, who went to the hall to eat the weird food from the party, leaving the boy alone again; he went back to the stairs, itching to hide in the room with his toys, but one of the cooks put herself in front of him while balancing a tray with one hand and the other on her waist.

"No, no, boy, go to the party your father asked us not to let you go upstairs."

"Oh, Ma'am Irina."

"No 'o' or any other letter. Hush, hush."

And, muttering, he walked back into the hall unseen by any of the well-dressed adults; he walked between the huge legs of those men and women and went out through the huge balcony that led to the strip of sand. There he placed his little face between the woodwork on the balcony to see the end of the afternoon dying on the beach; the gentle waves lapping back and forth against a rock wall to the right.

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