Seas and Home

The Sun was sinking slowly into the wide, deep ocean; its faint light desperately clinging to the Earth for a last resort. Ian could feel his grip on the rope tighten, as if he might fall down into the deep watery abyss beneath the ship. The crinkles on his brow resembled the creased waves on the splashing waves of the black sea- haphazard yet somehow rhythmic.

Their dilapidated ship drifted across the enormous ocean stealthily. There was nothing except the violet sky above and the black ocean below. The ship seemed to scar the beautiful reunion of the sky and the sea- like an unwanted bug on a dark silk cloth, much like what the passengers felt. The ship reeked of cheap liquor and stale dreams. Its mere existence was sufficient as a punishment to the people in it, and perhaps no one would really be bothered at all if it sank like the gigantic Sun before them. 

Ian recalled the last view he had of his motherland before stepping into The Pearl. It was the middle of the night. Underneath the pitch black sky, enormous flames of fire passionately danced across the ancient, ramshackle mansion a little far from the harbor. The flames devoured each and every corner of the house, like a ravenous beast who finally left his cage. The bullets from the rifles paralleled the viciousness, as they rained upon the mansion’s entrance from outside. It was a neat attempt to ensure that nobody from that shabby building came out alive. The air was heavy from smoke and pleas for help from the edifice in fire…..

Ian shook his head, trying to shake the memories from his mind. It would be a great thing to categorize your memories and dump off the painful, frightening ones. However, the human mind did not work this way, neither did the mind of Ian. 

“Memories, eh?”

A man sat down beside him, sighing. His teeth, like his worn-out shirt, were stained yellow. Meanwhile, his hair was hay-brown, sticking out of his head like a broom. His pale white orbs popped out of their sockets, and his whole body was more of a skeleton than a real living person.

“You smoke?” The lanky man offered a cigarette to Ian.

“No,” Ian replied curtly. He did not want any company, especially not from someone who seemed to never even have bathed once in his life.

“Too stubborn. It numbs the pain, y’know? But not as good as good ol’ wine, mind ya. Nothing beats a little jolly drink, hmm? By the way, Ian, innit? Or is it Ivan? I dunno, not really much of a social guy, me.” He rambled on as he blew smoke from the cigarette. “Oh, right. We never talked before. I’m Kale. Yeah, I know… weird name an’ all. But, hey who am I to blame? I couldn’t talk during the time I was named,” he chuckled.

“If you’re gonna give me your whole life story now, spare me the lecture,” Ian grumbled beneath his breath. He already was lost in his own whirlpool of guilt and pain, and the last thing he needed was the reek of cigarette smoke, sweat and alcohol.

“You’re spared, young man,” Kale chuckled towards Ian, whiffs of smoke escaping through his mouth and nostrils. “But I’m curious. What are ya, a fine good young lad, doing in this rogue ship? Ya look wealthy, y'know- I could see that gold on your neck shining from far…...Ya also seem to be healthy, lad. I bet ya had three full meals a day, innit boy? Ya have everything, I guess, ” Kale analyzed, “then what on earth are ya doin’ in ‘dis shaky boat?”

Kale stared at Ian intently, his cigarette held mid-air through the gap between his middle and index fingers. Ian could feel his nails digging deep into the steady ropes, his wrath and annoyance brimming at the edge. He did not know who Kale was, nor that he cared. He wanted to be left alone, like their old worn-down ship in the middle of nowhere. 

“You won’t leave, would you?” Ian’s voice laced with restrained anger, like the enormous floodgates they had at his city.

“Not really,” Kale took one last whiff, got up and nonchalantly dumped his cigarette on the black-blue water below. He turned his gaze towards Ian again, his faded blue eyes piercing through Ian.  “I want to know, son.” His voice was deep and gentle, like a river during a spring day.

Ian looked down on the wooden floor. His eyes welled up with tears. He could taste their salty tinge near the borders of his lips. When was the last time anyone genuinely cared about him?

Kale said nothing. He quietly sat beside Ian again, with a soft thud on the dampened wooden floor.

“It seemed like yesterday, that I was…….. Home,”  Ian began, still fixated on the floor.

Their villa was dilapidated and outdated, but it was still home. It was like an old kind lady who offered warm, fresh bread every time one passed by her cottage. Ivy and mosses grew between the spaces of the faded, red bricks, and the white paint on the window sills were peeling off with pale yellow tint. The wooden frames on the windows were broken in some places; some even hung slightly ajar from the rusted hinges. There was an unkempt garden where the wild weeds and flowers bloomed, even those which did not have any name. It was no more than a pile of old ruins, and Ian would not have stayed there either. Except for Cherylene.

Cherylene….. She was a rare beauty- a gem best suited for the heavens rather than the world. She was thin like the stem of a rose, with lips tinted red like cherries. She had a cascade of ebony silk-smooth hair draped in gossamer. Her eyes twinkled with happiness or with sadness- nobody knew which. She was the reason he lived: she became the reason he left.

Cherylene was the daughter of an affluent man, and Ian was a destitute young vagabond roaming in the street. He never knew why Cherylene spared him a glance- after all, she belonged to the starlit sky, and he was a mere wood piece floating on the pitch black ocean. However, Ian adored Cherylene…. She was the home he always yearned for.

“I would give you everything-the gold, the riches- just say it, lad.....” the man with ebony silky hair with a golden pendant around his neck demanded. “Don’t drag her down to the dust where you scumbag live....”

“If you love her, then leave.”

He could still hear her desperate pleas to her father to bring him back, to not burn their nest. That ancient edifice which Ian loathed so much, was the only land he ever had.

Ian stopped. He could feel his whole body getting numb. Could a memory hold this much power to tame his boiling blood into a stand still like the deep ocean? Kale listened silently, without a single word.

“Well,” Kale fished out another cigarette from the pocket of his filth-coated brown trousers, “ya ain’t going back now.” He lit up his cigarette.