Imagine standing on the deck of a wooden ship, far out at sea, during a clear night where you can look up and see the stars.
It was a beautiful night out, with the moon near full and bright, casting its light down on the waves that rolled beneath the hull of the ship. Barnacles slowly crept up the sides of the dark wood, and the smell of rum wafted over the edges of the ship and down onto the waves.
On the top of the ship, beneath the snow white sails, a group of sailors was having a party. Some were sitting on barrels that were filled with ale and rum, others had their favorite instruments out. Some favored the complicated-to-play accordion, others favored the long and slim flute. Together, they sang songs of battle and sailing, their voices traveling with the wind like a bird flying over land.
You were sitting on a barrel off to the side of the ship, near the bow of the ship, steadily clapping your hands and tapping your foot against the rough wooden side to the beat. Your crew was dancing around together, some men even opting for a jigging contest out on the bare deck, the rolling waves below adding an extra challenge. The cabin boy came over to you while you were laughing along with your first mate with a mug of rum on a plate, and you took one happily.
The life of a sailor was filled with the simple pleasures in life, and you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
YOU ARE READING
Year of 365
RandomA mess of short stories, poems, and whatever else I feel like writing. I will be continuing this for one year and in June 2022 I'll end it.
