blue hull of the darian

winston didn’t know how he was going to get into the captain’s cabin, but one thing was for sure, the fate of his mission depended on it. the storm was beginning to break and the upper deck would be changing shifts soon. it was nearing 3:am, he would have to do it now. a shard of moonlight cut through the black clouds for a fleeting moment and illuminated the blue hull of the darian o’conner. winston waited until the moon slipped back into the murky abyss of the mediterranean night and made his way up a series of slippery iron utility ladders to the third deck. the darian slowly rocked from side to side over the black swells and winston was careful to stay in the shadows. a large swell crashed over the forward deck with a heavy “fwoosh” and winston closed his eyes as the salty spray misted his face. “i've been away from the sea too long.” he thought to himself. winston licked his lips and the taste of the sea brought him back to his boyhood. his father had been a longshoreman and he had spent countless nights on the open waters as a young man. his father had forbidden him to join the longshoremen, forcing him instead to leave the small fishing village and get a proper education. “go see the world” his father had told him, “the docks are no place for a boy.” winston heard of his father’s passing during his senior year at wellington military school. a nor’easter had howled up the coast and swept away several fishing vessels. they never found the wreckage. winston had started a private commando firm that contracted out to various governments and corporations. the business had taken off, making him a very wealthy man. winston made a point to go on one mission every year to keep his senses sharp. he closed his eyes and took in the smell of the sea. “tango seven, request mission status.” a voice crackled in his earpiece. “this is tango seven, vessel boarded.” “vessel boarded eh?” his father scowled over him, kicking his leg. winston sat up on the old couch and found his burly father standing with an arm full of drop lines. “sorry pop, must have drifted off there.” “drifted off eh? well tango seven your ass down to the boat with that bait, we leave in ten minutes.”


Perfect Virgo said...

"The docks are no place for a boy" and his dreams. Beautifully observed slice of commentary on parental influence.

Hang on, my earpiece is crackling too. What's that? "Clear to leave the craft and collect specimens of alien foliage." Oh no, it's just the wife calling "Get out and mow the damned grass!"

superflywebpimp said...

we are never beneath hope, while above hell, nor above hope, while beneath heaven.