The SeaSnake

Some men have stepped an extra stair above the rest of us. Separated from the orbit paths we share to create orbits of their own with sattelites surrounding them. They have ceased becoming men and inhabited a more ethereal existence. In essense they become an idea, a force. He calls himself destiny. I am indebted to him.

**

I called my ship SeaSnake. It is named after an ancient man who an old folk tale is told of. Now his name wasnt always SeaSnake. His real name has been shedded from him and forgotten because it had lost all meaning.

My ship is not only a ship but a luxury yacht. A magisterial floating castle which treats the entire ocean as a moat. Whose elegance and ornate craftmanship belies its inpenetrable security. Invisible to radars, invincible to storm, waves, rock and ice as well as pirates and otherwise intruders. Stocked on this floating castle are a lifetime supply and then some of food and wine, entertainments and vices and various rooms with crafts to satisfy my lust for creativity (an artificial but satisfactory replacement for being deprived of a mate). But my favorite room by far is the inexhaustable library of books; my favorite book of which is the most up to date encyclopedia at the time of embarkation. Which had been a great many years. It reminds me that I do not belong to that world anymore. I live a separate timeless existence. When you live in science fiction the mundane is science fiction to you.

—

I am currently being pursued by a canoe driven by a relentless yellow-cloaked long white haired rower. His jacket and his hair almost disappear in the day to the bright sun and blinding horizon but at night he shone like a lighthouse, reflecting back with a magnitude of intensity those seemingly dim rays of the waning moon. Before I tell who this man is and why I fear him so, I will tell you the story of how I gained this yacht and why this white haired rower pursues it.

**

I was a young man and I had nothing. I travelled the desertland and capitals of north africa. I alone among the many other vagabonds refused to steal and con to survive but instead gained shelter and charity from those many good people who lived along these routes. The people, who have stayed in their city for many generations were curious enough of the outside world to feed me in exchange for stories of lands near and far.

I had a good eye for performances and entertainment. I could tell when my stories were being met with interest and enticement from my most inscrutable audience. I dealt in the currency of fascination and so I became sagacious in determining its value. Thus I would sometimes have to embellish my tales of the outside world if I discerned interest was being lost.

—

I was fairly successful and grew better and better at embellishing, spreading ever more ridiculous impressions of foreign domains to the excitement and horror of provincial folk. Almost as a joke to myself I wanted to see what crazy things people were willing to believe as long as it was told by a gifted storyteller until I met one implacable old man. As I began my tale I could see by the wrinkles around his eyes and the pretty jewels on his fingers that he had visited many a place and seen many a mystery and I was going to have to invent a collasal fantasy to appease him.

—

I gave him the greatest tale I have ever told, strange monsters, forbidden love, cruel foreign customs, cities built in the canopies of trees, wars employing killing machines of technical marvel...the old man did not lift an eyebrow! Instead he opened up his yellow coat, drew from a pocket within 5 sealed envelopes and laid them out before me.

“My boy, I can see you have a love for adventure, a fearless daring and an eye for the ways in which others live. I dare say there be not a more suitable candidate to play my game. I must confess, it is not my game but an almost lost rite performed by working age young men of my village. Five lots they were given, each one corresponding to an apprenticeship they are to take on. And whichever lot they choose they would dutifully take on the task of excelling in that trade. When the those men have become masters of their craft they are visited again with five more lots, this time each corresponding to women to marry. And whichever lot they choose they would dutifully give that woman love and share a committed family with them. When those families are strong and prosperous they are visited one last time and this is the hardest. For there are again five lots and each of the lots corresponds to a different city, one of which is our own town, but four others foreign. And whichever lot they choose they would dutifully move to that place and become useful citizens there, or stay and preserve our customs if they drew the lot corresponding to our town.

“Now my boy, you have eaten the stew I have made for you, and drank the wine I provided. In return I asked you to tell me of your travels and you provided empty confabulations. The bargain is still yet incomplete so I would say you are somewhat obligated to play my game. Not to mention, given your current wandering predicament, could benefit from such a game.”

Stunned that the old man had caught onto my embellishments, which I had admittedly taken to a fantastmagorical extreme, I deigned take the middle envelop before me which inside read the indelible word:”Mariner”.

“Well done boy. Until I see you again. My name is Destiny”

—

I plied that trade with merriment and honor. Setting sail out to sea and returning with riches and wonders seen. I had a love of the sea I would not have known unless I played that game although it nearly never came to mind and I had almost forgotten that envelope and the yellow coated old man. A part of me despised him for having such control over my life, for I wished to take full credit for my chosen line.

I also despised him for that next envelope which I knew I must take, for I had already found a loyal girl I had promised my life to and had children. So when out of a crowd one typical day I glimpst that yellow presage. He suddenly appeared and I confronted him. He politely invited me to a pub where I could explain my condition. I told him I had no need to choose a wife from his envelopes (as I knew he had) for I had already found one. And as if he hadnt listened he drew from his yellow coat those five more envelopes, each one he explained, had the name of a different woman of town. When I refused, he followed me home where I found my wife and children gone and in their place a note.

The note read that she had left me. For her I spent too many nights at sea and while I was away at Sumatra she found another man she preferred for his consistency. The yellow-coat old man stood there as I read that awful note, spreading out those envelopes in front of me.

Desperately I chose the middle one again, for how much the last middle envelope I had been blessed. But when drawing lots you take your losses and the woman whose name was written inside was rude and homely and I rejected her after our first meeting. To escape I set sail to Sumatra, where I heard of a fantastic castle of a ship being constructed secretly in its harbors. 

**

In Sumatra, before I made my daring commandeering, I was told the tale of the SeaSnake. In the tale a man is offered to gather for a family firewood one bundle weekly in exchange for those meals and warmth which the firewood provided.

It was winter when he relied on the warmth and the food from the families fireplace the most, but the distances to travel were greatest and most punishing. Every journey, which by midwinter barely felt justifyable, began with a trail leading through the tantalizing sacred forest. Passing by many seasons bundles of fertile firewood for gathering. But the family admonished him that there live spirits in those woods and are not to be manipulated by peoples hands for purposes of man.

Nevertheless the man took from the sacred wood and gave it to the family. When the firewood was burned the spirits were released and the man watched as the smoke was inhaled by the mother and father and children, the spitits entered them all and killed them with their evil poison.

At seeing this the unnamed man ran to esacpe the spirits, but where ever he hid, they found him and got in close so he could inhale them and be poisoned the same as that family had. The spirits were tireless in revenge. The man ran to foreign lands, but everywhere he would go he was found. 

He ran to dark caves deep underground, but he was found. He he ran to the sea, until he reached the edge of the earth but still he was found. He dove deep into the oceans to escape those spirits but they were always close behind. So he kept on diving.

The deeper the man dove, the more he began to notice himself changing. His skin became green and scaly. His feet became a slimy tail. His back became a fin. And his face was stuck in an expressionless snarl. The chase had changed him into a SeaSnake. Who is doomed to be constantly pursued by spirits. One of which bears the name Destiny.