Part 3 Y/n

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I grabbed my journal and a good pencil and blade adding them to my bag and locking up my room, I scampered up to the third class common room it not being to full s many were still below in their rooms or exploring the ships amenities as we had only left port an hour or so ago. I took my journal finding a spot on the wooden bench and beginning to write. "'for a moment or two you'd be hard pushed to recall we were at sea, in fact miles from the nearest landmass within these walls here you'd swear we were a few times from Oxford Circus down a back alley inside a pub on a Saturday afternoon, the rabble of sounds and smells the same. The general laughing of accented men over the tools and tricks of their trades, children running around and yelling from over excitement often the cries of newborns exclaim. The smell of smoke and dirt in the air was not quiet enough to break the scent of the salty sea air from outside on the deck but the battle was ongoing. People chatted with folks they would never have known before, children playing with newly made friends, all of this going on atop a freshly polished floor, new wooden benches and lights that have never before these last few days been known as illumination.'

After a good while I took my journal and headed out of the common room taking a small walk along the promenade or at least the section of it I was allowed on with merely a third class ticket I did my best not to look at the vast endless ocean even if it was beautiful, I found it just brought me terrible memories and unshakable fear as the water always had. I walked past a few people smoking outside looking around the sweet ship as I did I spotted the first class promenade, such beautiful ladies with impressive hair and dresses, men in impressive suits for a moment I caught the eye of a young man as he leant on the railing cigarette in hand in a well fitted blue suit for a moment our eyes met as both he and I avoided the view of the water, I didn't want to be rude so i smiled a little at him and he gave me half hollow smile before his arm was hit by an older man and he was forced away.


Take My Hand (Thomas Brodie Sangster)Where stories live. Discover now