White sails tearing through the daring wind; bowsprit cutting its way forward; mast pointing to the Heavens, praying for God to protect his creation. The silent ship screamed at the storm, she danced with the dark waters- pirouettes and entrelacés- bending, cracking, hurting herself in attempt to surmount the battle she was in. The people on board listened to her fight, stood along side her to guide her forward. They didn't abandon her, not even for a second; and as if bound down by the strings of their hearts, they remained loyal to the Ship they were on whilst they waited for the war to calm and daytime to return once more.
The waves that punched holes through the hull were beautiful in their deadliest state, but for sure, when they hurt, they hurt to their most dangerous extent. They hunted anyone who dared to touch them; fighting alongside the lighting and thunder, alongside the wind and rain; hurdling storms so aggressive that no man had the chance to oppose to the war that those tempests would win.
No man could win, many would stop trying, but by the way that the screams were heard over the waves, by the way that feet ran across the deck, and by the way that the helm was gripped, it was clear that the men on board the Grande Marie didn't back away from a challenge when it was offered.
The Captain glared into the eyes of the beast he was fighting, feeling its cold blood splatter over his face, watching the turns of the dark body lap at his ankles, and listening to the cries it let out when it hit the deck. For sure, he was made to face it that night, made to become ten times the man he had ever been; fighting with his hands bound, his glare only half as powerful, but his heart still firing in furious energy. That lost man was the Captain who'd win the war no man ever could; the broken warrior who'd outshine any other; the one with scars to show the path he'd walked down, with a heart that had been ripped and sewn back up, and with a screaming voice that everyone had doubted would ever return.
The revenant from Saint Francis' cove was King of the oceans that night. And that man would have been the hero of this story-if only it were a fairytale.
***
This is not a fairytale because if it were, then we wouldn't have gone where the dead men go; if it were, then we wouldn't have had to cross the paths of even more misery; if it were, then we'd be safe.
But as far as I'm aware, safety is for cowards, and for the love of Christ, I am not a damn coward.
*
This book is the second part to 'Glassy Sky' available on my profile. This book shall include art in each chapter that you can have for free. If you'd like any artwork in the book, please dm me. Please do not repost without credit, thank you x
Ten years and a whole lifetime later, they're back. But this time, they will not lose.