Apr 2017
They called him Grandpa, even though he had no grandchildren and was younger than most of them. And he knew it was going to be a rough one.
The ship was spitting tunes like cracking knuckles, bending under the slams of waves. The air cradled a smell of ***, alcohol curling into the wood on the deck from a fallen bottle.
Sea spray eroded at the hull, sharing the ship’s contents with the sea bit by bit. From a glance one couldn’t tell, but if you stared long enough, you’d notice the wear.
Today the sea was a slow knife sinking into the ship, anyone knew that.
Waves were volcanic today, unable to keep their excitement contained within the Pacific as they jumped into the hull of the ship. The clouds were a different story. Drunk old men bumbling about, bumping into each other as they took turns spitting electric chew into the bucket.
The wind screamed out a tantrum, ripping at the sail. We all knew the sea was a cruel lover, didn’t you read enough sailor’s stories to know?
Boots squeaked and slipped a lonely sloppy dance on the empty deck. Grandpa knew she was angry with him today. The sea, that is. He could see faces in the clouds scowling at him. Her footsteps echoing off the sky; play-pretend thunderclaps. He looked out in the sick-gray ocean, while she frothed at the mouth. Grandpa scratched the boyish stubble on his face, unsure what could be done. It was a bad day to be married to the sea.
The ship was spitting tunes like cracking knuckles, bending under the slams of waves. The air cradled a smell of ***, alcohol curling into the wood on the deck from a fallen bottle.
Sea spray eroded at the hull, sharing the ship’s contents with the sea bit by bit. From a glance one couldn’t tell, but if you stared long enough, you’d notice the wear.
Today the sea was a slow knife sinking into the ship, anyone knew that.
Waves were volcanic today, unable to keep their excitement contained within the Pacific as they jumped into the hull of the ship. The clouds were a different story. Drunk old men bumbling about, bumping into each other as they took turns spitting electric chew into the bucket.
The wind screamed out a tantrum, ripping at the sail. We all knew the sea was a cruel lover, didn’t you read enough sailor’s stories to know?
Boots squeaked and slipped a lonely sloppy dance on the empty deck. Grandpa knew she was angry with him today. The sea, that is. He could see faces in the clouds scowling at him. Her footsteps echoing off the sky; play-pretend thunderclaps. He looked out in the sick-gray ocean, while she frothed at the mouth. Grandpa scratched the boyish stubble on his face, unsure what could be done. It was a bad day to be married to the sea.
