FireSweet

Focus Frenzy

            I growled in frustration, walking over to retrieve the blade once more.  I whirled and threw the knife, missing the target by a few feet this time.  I smiled at that, remembering to keep my head on straight and to aim.  Aiming was important.  I held the dagger at its tip before sending it spinning toward the circle.  It hit the target this time, with the smooth metal on the tip of the hilt.  It fell to the floor once again.  But I had hit the target, showing improvement.  I raced over to retrieve the knife, thinking vaguely of the suicides I had to run in the gym during volleyball conditioning for school. 

            I held it by the hilt, trying to reverse the logic of what I had just done and repeat the near-success.  Yet somehow, it hit the hilt again, falling to the floor.  I returned to the line with the knife and tried again; same results.  My frustration built and I tried again and again, able to hit the target here and there, but always with the hilt.  My aim was so careful, my form well thought out, but I couldn’t control the speed of the spin. 

            I yelled at the target loudly, a frustrated sound that didn’t even qualify as belonging to any sort of civilized language.

            “Well well,” a chuckling bass voice commented.  “I wouldn’t blame the target for your failures Piratess, though that was quite the fearsome war-cry, very sexy.”

            I froze for a moment, about to retrieve the dagger and trudge to the line once more.  I changed my mind at the last second and threw it at Obsidarian instead, because of course he was the only one cocky enough to make that sort of comment to me.

            I didn’t pause to think, or to aim, I just launched the dagger without even really looking at my mentor.  He yelped in surprise, bringing my attention to what I had done. 

            The hilt was quivering, embedded in the wood less than an inch from Obsidarian’s face. 

            I blinked at it in shock, but Obsidarian had already gotten over it, and was about to go on a tirade.

            “You could have killed me!  Yes you proved your point but can you imagine what had happened if you had missed your mark and struck me instead?  Gittoran this is only your first time throwing that thing about!  I thought you couldn’t throw!”

            I stared at the still-quivering hilt, mesmerized by its slight movement.

            “Neither did I.” I breathed, “Neither did I.”

            He pulled the dagger out and placed it back in my palm firmly.

            “Do it again.” He commanded.

            I smiled to myself and walked away from Obsidarian, turning to face him once more.  He leapt out of the way, chastising me furiously.

            “Not at me you cold blooded pirate!  I don’t want to die!  Hit the target, the circle on the wall for sane people to throw at!”

            I winked at him, but turned to face the circle I was throwing at earlier.

            “Close your eyes.” He ordered.  “I want you to feel what you did earlier.  I want you to remember how you felt, how easy it was for you.  I want you to know you will hit the center of that circle as I hope you knew you would not hit me.  Think about that Gittoran.”

            I focused on the pattern of my breathing, attempting to push away the excitement of what I had just done.  I tried to relive the moment just before I had thrown the dagger, remembering the careless anger.  The thought brought a hint of a smile to my face. 

            I snapped my eyes open and took only a half second to aim before throwing the dagger.  It spun through the air, the blade a blur with the hilt.

            “Come on..” I whispered.

            The blade hit the center of the circle, then bounced off the mark and thudded softly on the floor.  It had struck with the hilt, again. 

            “No no no!  Piratess you did nothing like that before.  Your form was more fluid.  That wasn’t it.  Tell me what you did, tell me what you felt.  Really concentrate this time.”

            “Fine.” I snapped, my temper quickly fraying.

            I sighed and thought back, attempting to relive the moment as Obsidarian deemed fit.  But the memory fled my search, slipping through my hands like the breeze.  I remembered nothing of the moment, almost as if it never happened. 

            “Nothing.” I growled, “I remember nothing of the moment, the memory is darkness, a film cast into a well.  I cannot reach it.”

            “Nonsense,” he said obstinately, “it’s not as if you suffer from any short-term memory loss.  And if one of us were to be in shock it would be me, not you.  Think harder Piratess.”

            “Why don’t you think harder Obsidarian?  Seems it would be clear as your loyalty what I’ve done to almost kill you!”

            The dagger flew from my hand toward him once more, catching a few threads from his open shirt as it breezed past him before embedding in the circular target on the wall behind him.

            Obsidarian fell silent immediately, lifting up his shirtsleeve so he could inspect the nonexistent damage. 

            I couldn’t resist the urge to leer at him wickedly, “For the record:  I don’t aim.”

            He pulled his  black dagger from his belt and held it out to me, offering it in some way.

            “What is this for?” I asked, startled at the unexpected gesture.

            “You will be better with it than I ever will.  I own more, but I would like you to have this one, the best one.  You deserve it, and no member of Captain Maji-jalio’s crew only owns two blades.  It’s flat out embarrassing.”

            I smiled at the gentle teasing and took it, nodding my thanks before grabbing my own knife and heading upstairs to the waiting shower and bed. 

I smiled as I collapsed upon the re-made bed; this life was a wonderful one.  I stretched luxuriously and rolled over to pick up my rapier from its place on the floor beside my bed.  I would use it again tonight as a rudimentary lock. 

Despite its dangers, I felt more at home among pirates than I ever had at with my family in Angola.  I knew I would find a purpose here, as if I had been drawn here by a greater force than chance.