Slicing the air with their knife-like wings, elegant creatures bless the sunset with their black silhouettes. With each flap, they soar higher, and closer to the horizon. Tails arch to make sharp turns past steep cliffs, and skim over the glass like reflector, making ripples throughout the ocean.
No sunset is complete without watching the dragons dance through the explosion of orange and pink. The light bounces off of their scales, creating dazzling sparks across their black shadows.
I wonder where they are heading, or where they are coming from. Just as I wonder where I am going. The reason I got on this boat was to get away from somewhere, though the reason I'm getting off is to find something new. I guess you always are heading from and going somewhere. It just depends on which place you want others, and yourself to remember.
Oh, how I wish I could fly as gracefully as they do. I love to dance, though, my feet never do seem to find the right rhythm. The dragons, they dance across the orange void so effortlessly.
So free and beautiful, while I remain here, stuck in a ship, knocking into everything at each wave.
My mother would read me stories as a child, about knights from far away kingdoms that would slaughter dragons for glory. They were declared brave for killing such a gorgeous creature.
I watch them now and wonder how someone can destroy something so beautiful.
Do they envy their skill in flight? Or their strength in battle? Has one of their loved ones been cursed by such a creature?
I may never know, or understand, though I can say this. Bravery is not won by smoldering a flame. It is won when you protect the flame from pails of water from your peers.
That is what brought me here. To the dark, bottom of this boat.
Crying out in justice for the sick and hungry, being slaughtered at home. Even though, I was clumsy and poor, I am no coward.
In that way, the dragons and I have similarities. They are hunted for their scales, that protect the defenseless body. I am imprisoned for protecting a young girl from being raped by a rich man.
No matter how graceful or clumsy, we are persecuted for the wrong reasons.
The dragons out tonight may be free from handcuffs, but I am free from the burden of guilt.
My hair is now long, and lays like a dirty mop on my head. The once golden locks have turned a murky brown. Below my clothing each bone sticks out to such a sharp point it hurts to lie down.
Prisoners are fed nothing but dry bread and the occasional cup of dirty water. Some of my cabin mates have resulted to killing rats and eating them raw.
Out of the 20 prisoners in the ship, I am far from the worst in health and in spirit. Most have scurvy and the rest go mad from their wails of pain. No one speaks anymore. There is just the in audible mumbling of wild eyed men.
I write daily. Scratching drawings and words on to anything, whenever I need someone to talk to. I seem to be running out of space, though I guess there are only so many walls large enough to record two months of travel.
Between my writing, and the small window, I have kept my mind sane. but I am beginning to be afraid that this journey to somewhere is a lot longer than I bargained for. Some days, I feel my mind being lost, though, the sunset always brings it back to its right track.
The end is unavoidable. All things must die. Most men here want to die, but I feel that there is much more to live for. I will fight for my life to the last second.
Anything, to see the sunset again.
