Flashes of false awakening images become invisible in her occupied December days.
She is trapped by the small details-her "sunbeam." Before waking up, she remembers his rose-beige cheeks.
The pre dawn hours are visibly healing her vague midnight dreams.
Murmurs of seagulls at a distant accompanying with light crashes of waves at the bottom of the ship make her sleep after some happy thoughts of December adventures. She can finally see her lucid dreams that have been steal from her over the years of cruised around different ports. Fatigue and changes of the weather were the harsh part of her days around the port of bargain, place where the ship's goods are being offer and sold to merchants from neighboring islands.
Days of January had passed the ship had bustled through the turbulence of ocean waters. And the nearly teared map showed no signs of the island, simply plain sight waves. How come there was no harbor to tie up and docked? Out of exhaustion, she decided to jump over the ship's brow to bathe her limped muscles in the turquoise waters; she stroked her arms, then closed her eyes for seconds. Beneath the waters she felt like the sargassum seaweeds were pulling her feet. She hastily opened her eyes and started to move in the ship's main deck but the thick sargassum caught her feet.
She panicked as if those weeds in her dreadful nightmares were pulling her to the bottom of the sea distressing the pygmy seahorses as they saw her sinking towards the seabed.
"You will became part of the Davy Jone's locker, hummed of the sea weeds or it was smitten spright wandering the seabed?
She wasn't sure.
She felt the constriction of her airways as she underwent the absence of light.
Is this something she could never evade?
She hated the frigid salt water, which usually made her heart numbed.
With all the forced left within her she opened her arms to moved, after some time she realized that the water gave her counterforce.....gently she got close to the surface of the water. She stretched her arms high enough to reach over the railing to roll over the ship's wooden deck.
Still clutching her damped shirt, her chest heaved for a long moment of silence while staring at the stratocumulus clouds.
She felt like those memories at Port Royal were vague..trapped between coldness within the whitecaps of the waves.
Her eyelids felt heavy, so she decided to stand up and walked towards her cabin, scent of patchouli notes and warmth embraced her the moment she closed the door.
תמשיך
YOU ARE READING
Lonesome ship's cabin
Poetry*collections of spare nightmares and escapism *sort of my dreamland, all of us is not perfect when it comes to writing literary pieces, so do I. *time travel inspired stories
