My Strange Stories VIII

April 15th, 2011

By the smooth ramp the deceased was falling in his marine entomb, instead of his normal funeral. On the ship the young boy was gazing the harsh scene with awe. Would that be his destiny? He knew he couldn’t do anything else than gave in and stop struggling. He must obey and seem like a harmless adolescent –an emaciated one –if he wanted to avoid that horrid hollow called Dungeon.

The captain greeted the young man and expressed his condolences with a typical marine phrase: “the sea is our Lord. It’s the one which decides to let us arrive to the safe shore.”

The captain got aware his words, although wise, hadn’t had a good effect on the boy, therefore, decided to leave him alone with his thoughts and the sea. But before leaving him he said, “The unique reason you had to be here is dead. The ship arrives to the shelter in a fortnight, then, you could mold your destiny. The child has died with his father today, you’re a man now. But remember, during this fortnight you’re on my ship, and I don’t allow lazy man on my boat.” And then, he left the now-young-man.

Now the boy was alone in the world. “What would I do?” asked to the near whirlwind, and with his acute senses he heard the answer –a useless one –what kind of “look into your heart” answer was it? It didn’t bring him any kind of relief. It just let him gasp of thinking all possibilities he had.

“What shall I do?” –he asked to the clouds –“What must I do?” –asked to the waves –“What do I want to do?” –asked to his heart…