Post by ddhlee on Jul 5, 2006 19:53:43 GMT -5
The sthingy handled like a knife, the edgeless convex tip of silver rising and falling to dribbles of toasted corn that drowned in a sea of milk. A porcelain bowl ranged cliffside around the bottomless white sea. I stared into the pool and remembered.
A day like this, where the water flushed white roars against its blackness. The air above a clouded ceiling that went above mortal reach, and smelled aspen; like the smell of a freezer. The black wool coat armored me from the breezes attempts to breach my warmth, and I laughed steam and undid the rope to the vessel. The smell, the sound, and the endless sea told of adventure!
Oh, the crew were as ready as they ever were, armed with clubs to their belts, a harthingy in their hand, and their wits ready. Good men, and adventurers too; a dying breed of men in an age that breathed its last for our kind. And like all dying men, we sought our deaths in a fit of glory; we were popcorn that sought the boiling oil.
We came because of the tales. The tales of our captain, the one-eyed coot that may have been a pirate back in the days when there was need for such men; a man damned to live because he was too unlucky to die. He saw it in his fishing trips.
"A black tentacle reached for me net," I remember him sputtering between the pipes. "Before I knew what to make of it, I lost me brother and son to the cold black waters. What I saw was what they only told of in maps of old." He saw a kraken. The giant squid of immortal legacy. A villain of the sea, and the great emperor of it that would dwarf even whales.
The sea knew of our coming and it, like all things not of the earth, obeyed that wicked monster. Without warning, the seas began to rock harsh turns. We reached for the sides of the boat and yelled for cover as a wall of water began to rise from the horizon of our ship to scowl its ferocity towards us. Water, pounds upon pounds upon tons of it began to oppress us and dig our watery graves. In a fit of poor luck, I watched a man lose his grip and slip down the deck. I screamed and offered him a hand, but it was two seconds too late to reach a man destined to die and I watched the water swallow him as it attempted to eat our ship. His sacrifice made, the seas themselves quelled and brought us a moment of silence for our fallen.
But mercy of the sea or not, the armistice between man and nature was a short one. One of the men called to the side, "I see something below!" We knew there was only one thing in that ocean that could live through the spite of that ocean, and we fisted harthingys for the fight of our lives. Those that would live would tell our grandchildren and they would think us fibbers all. Our ground creaked and whined hard and then we all knew what it meant to fight a god.
"The ship is breaking!" Our old salt captain yelled to us. We would not let ourselves die for nothing, though, no. We took to the life boats and grabbed for what arsenal we could find on that shipwreck to be, and as we crashed down, hurled out harthingys to the inky black island that crackled our keel.
At first, the kraken did not notice, but soon even a few harthingys would make anyone notice its barbs bleeding their black blood dry. The attention went to us, and not before long did we see the monster unearth itself from its watery hideaway; a black skin darker than the night that made the kraken a shadow in its home, and eyes larger than our heads stared back with a calculated anger. We reached for more metal poles and began to fight back the beast as he cracked our lifeboats as one would tear bread. My boat was not the last to go, but the sea felt as cold as the death I wanted upon the great sea monster.
My only option left was a knife I kept in my boot, which luckily did not sink as I attempted to stay afloat. The coat I shuffled off in the struggle for air, now a garment of water only good for freezing in. The others saw me and joined in, some still clutching their harthingys from their backs, others in their mouths. We were the last of the greatest, and we would die like heroes.
My hand caught its slimy head as I climbed. It immediately knew where I was and lashed a puckered arm for me, but not before I drew steel and showed my steel fang to it with a quick jab. I was a few steps from its eye, and with both hands fisting the knife, I
"The bus is here, don't be late for school!"
"Yes, mom."
I dragged my body away from the table of soggy cereal, my iron rations handed to me as I lugged the books of my schooltime warfare. My great battle had not been finished, but I would live to tell another tale.
A day like this, where the water flushed white roars against its blackness. The air above a clouded ceiling that went above mortal reach, and smelled aspen; like the smell of a freezer. The black wool coat armored me from the breezes attempts to breach my warmth, and I laughed steam and undid the rope to the vessel. The smell, the sound, and the endless sea told of adventure!
Oh, the crew were as ready as they ever were, armed with clubs to their belts, a harthingy in their hand, and their wits ready. Good men, and adventurers too; a dying breed of men in an age that breathed its last for our kind. And like all dying men, we sought our deaths in a fit of glory; we were popcorn that sought the boiling oil.
We came because of the tales. The tales of our captain, the one-eyed coot that may have been a pirate back in the days when there was need for such men; a man damned to live because he was too unlucky to die. He saw it in his fishing trips.
"A black tentacle reached for me net," I remember him sputtering between the pipes. "Before I knew what to make of it, I lost me brother and son to the cold black waters. What I saw was what they only told of in maps of old." He saw a kraken. The giant squid of immortal legacy. A villain of the sea, and the great emperor of it that would dwarf even whales.
The sea knew of our coming and it, like all things not of the earth, obeyed that wicked monster. Without warning, the seas began to rock harsh turns. We reached for the sides of the boat and yelled for cover as a wall of water began to rise from the horizon of our ship to scowl its ferocity towards us. Water, pounds upon pounds upon tons of it began to oppress us and dig our watery graves. In a fit of poor luck, I watched a man lose his grip and slip down the deck. I screamed and offered him a hand, but it was two seconds too late to reach a man destined to die and I watched the water swallow him as it attempted to eat our ship. His sacrifice made, the seas themselves quelled and brought us a moment of silence for our fallen.
But mercy of the sea or not, the armistice between man and nature was a short one. One of the men called to the side, "I see something below!" We knew there was only one thing in that ocean that could live through the spite of that ocean, and we fisted harthingys for the fight of our lives. Those that would live would tell our grandchildren and they would think us fibbers all. Our ground creaked and whined hard and then we all knew what it meant to fight a god.
"The ship is breaking!" Our old salt captain yelled to us. We would not let ourselves die for nothing, though, no. We took to the life boats and grabbed for what arsenal we could find on that shipwreck to be, and as we crashed down, hurled out harthingys to the inky black island that crackled our keel.
At first, the kraken did not notice, but soon even a few harthingys would make anyone notice its barbs bleeding their black blood dry. The attention went to us, and not before long did we see the monster unearth itself from its watery hideaway; a black skin darker than the night that made the kraken a shadow in its home, and eyes larger than our heads stared back with a calculated anger. We reached for more metal poles and began to fight back the beast as he cracked our lifeboats as one would tear bread. My boat was not the last to go, but the sea felt as cold as the death I wanted upon the great sea monster.
My only option left was a knife I kept in my boot, which luckily did not sink as I attempted to stay afloat. The coat I shuffled off in the struggle for air, now a garment of water only good for freezing in. The others saw me and joined in, some still clutching their harthingys from their backs, others in their mouths. We were the last of the greatest, and we would die like heroes.
My hand caught its slimy head as I climbed. It immediately knew where I was and lashed a puckered arm for me, but not before I drew steel and showed my steel fang to it with a quick jab. I was a few steps from its eye, and with both hands fisting the knife, I
"The bus is here, don't be late for school!"
"Yes, mom."
I dragged my body away from the table of soggy cereal, my iron rations handed to me as I lugged the books of my schooltime warfare. My great battle had not been finished, but I would live to tell another tale.