Changes in Time

The Portrait

The wind had picked up now and I could feel it hit me hard in the face like a slap. My sore eyes, which were still adjusting to the scarce amount of light, were focused on the open mouth of what looked like a large cave. It was dark, but so was outside. After long minutes of searching in complete darkness, I decided that this was the best - and maybe only - option I had.

Uncertainly, I entered the cave. Silence swam around me pricking the hairs on the back of my neck. The air was moist and still, as the cave walls had blocked out the strong winds. As I shuffled around blindly searching for a place to sleep, my hand seemed to brush against something cold and smooth. With a fright, I retracted my arm immediately, my heart beating at a rapid pace. That did not feel like rock! What was it? My curiosity was growing and my fingers where stretching out to the wall in front of me. My breathing became heavier, but so did my eyelids.

My finger traced the outside of the rectangular object on the wall. Mysterious...

I tried to work out was it was. I felt it. Cold and smooth. But it was no use, my vision had been completely eliminated within this amount of light and inside my head had gone fuzzy and blurry with tiredness. I decided I would worry in the morning. Curling up on the muddy ground beneath me, my breathing evened and I fell asleep.

The bright morning light attacked my eyelids, forcing me to open them. I don't know why I got a fright when I woke up to find myself in a cave in the middle of a forest. Maybe I was expecting to wake up from a terrible dream and find myself back in my tent with Dad, Theo and Connie. I know they must be worrying about me now. Surely they would've started a search party. I hope...

My heart leapt with excitement as I remembered my mysterious discovery. Immediately I stumbled to my feet and raced to the wall to see a... framed painting. Hmm. Not exactly what I was expecting. But then again, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

Staring at the picture, I commended the artist's fine brushwork and imagination. It was a ship. A cruise ship to be exact. Drifting peacefully along the calm, blue oceans. Its multiple yellow lights reflected against the water. The ship was a shimmering white colour with golden handrailings running along the edge of the top deck. Many different hands cuffed the top railing and smiling faces laughed and waved, excited, about to begin their luxurious journey.

"Wow..." I sighed in admiration, my head floating to the side. I had never been on a cruise ship before, but I remember my mum used to work on one - that was until she disappeared. She used to come home with fun stories to tell me about the children on the ship. She was a carer in the kids' club.

Written at the bottom right hand corner was a name and a year. I squinted to read the tiny writing. Lynton Finch - 1921.

My eye caught on something else as I stroked the picture. Neatly painted on the side of the ship in tiny, blue, curved writing spelled - what I believed - was the name of the ship. Golden Conch. How beautiful.

A soft voice sung the name in my mind. Placing both hands on the painting, I leant forwards and pressed my head against it. "The Golden Conch" I purred to myself.

That was when the floor dropped from my feet.