vivid
the skies were clear, and the sea was calm. not calm, still. utterly unmoving. i approached the deck, the broken-off glass head of a deer stinging my hand slightly. the water was already on the deck, washing over our ship. i reached up to the water, as though to grab the tip of a wave. the water ruffled and returned as though nothing had touched it, and my hand was dry as ever. it did not feel like water, rather like airy foam. without thinking i raised the deer head to the deck, about to release it, but lurched my hand back to my side. somehow, i knew as soon as that tiny figure thudded onto the deck, the nightmare would resume. not resume, begin again.
my crewmate stood behind me, questioning. i told her to touch the water; she tentatively ran her hand through the bluegreen of the wave. she leaned out, into the still water, to look around. she saw the blue skies, and the ship blanketed in choppy waves from bow to stern.
the rest of the crew had assembled, crowding the small cabin. six men, four women. i had woken suddenly in the night, though it was bright as day. i do not know how, for the ship did not sway nor groan, but i knew there was a storm. i knew it was bad, and we needed everyone if we were to live. i ran down the hall knocking on doors, some of which had signs posted from the night before; "please, let me sleep!" there had been a party. we had drunk and danced and sang, for the stars danced with us and nothing was wrong.
somewhere while i ran, the deer figure found it's way to my hand. i continued knocking, rounding the corner to the next set of doors, and on to the open stalls of the bathroom. one man was there, dark haired and olive skinned, though i do not remember his name. i looked further up the hall to give him his dignity, as i stood there yelling of the storm.
our captain knew. as we stood in the cabin listening to his explanation, we realized we all knew. there was a storm, we fought to keep our ship intact, wave after wave slamming us from above as we clung to the ship, roaring darkness all around us. and he, he had died. the man next to me, of olive skin and dark hair. we had held the service, mourning him. we had all wept for him.
without hesitation it was agreed that we must save him. but, would it be at the price of another? we debated who was to die.
"not you," the captain said to the man not far from him. "you are to write a book about us."
"oh, yeah." he said it as though he had already done so. i myself suddenly remembered having read it. we all had, to hear our story.
we could not agree which one of us would die, for as one would volunteer the rest would chorus "i will go with you." it was not selflessness but familial love; none of us had known eachother when we began, yet now it felt as though we had never been apart. thus it was decided either we would all die, or none of us would.
then began the discussion of how to survive the storm. clearly, we had done something wrong, and must figure out what it had been. we did not know if we would have another chance. while we were discussing, i saw on the table beside me the dark reddish glass body of a headless deer, rearing proudly. i tried to balance the head on the broken neck, yet it would not stay. the man beside me smiled, and handed me a pale green bandaid from his pocket. this i wrapped about the deer's neck, whose tiny black eyes seemed to watch the discussion with muted curiosity from atop it's new bodily pedastal. originally, i remembered, the tiny deer head had been mounted on the officer's door, there had been no body, and i had not carried it. yet the body and the mounting seemed simultaneously to have always had been at the base of the neck.
and that was my dream.
my crewmate stood behind me, questioning. i told her to touch the water; she tentatively ran her hand through the bluegreen of the wave. she leaned out, into the still water, to look around. she saw the blue skies, and the ship blanketed in choppy waves from bow to stern.
the rest of the crew had assembled, crowding the small cabin. six men, four women. i had woken suddenly in the night, though it was bright as day. i do not know how, for the ship did not sway nor groan, but i knew there was a storm. i knew it was bad, and we needed everyone if we were to live. i ran down the hall knocking on doors, some of which had signs posted from the night before; "please, let me sleep!" there had been a party. we had drunk and danced and sang, for the stars danced with us and nothing was wrong.
somewhere while i ran, the deer figure found it's way to my hand. i continued knocking, rounding the corner to the next set of doors, and on to the open stalls of the bathroom. one man was there, dark haired and olive skinned, though i do not remember his name. i looked further up the hall to give him his dignity, as i stood there yelling of the storm.
our captain knew. as we stood in the cabin listening to his explanation, we realized we all knew. there was a storm, we fought to keep our ship intact, wave after wave slamming us from above as we clung to the ship, roaring darkness all around us. and he, he had died. the man next to me, of olive skin and dark hair. we had held the service, mourning him. we had all wept for him.
without hesitation it was agreed that we must save him. but, would it be at the price of another? we debated who was to die.
"not you," the captain said to the man not far from him. "you are to write a book about us."
"oh, yeah." he said it as though he had already done so. i myself suddenly remembered having read it. we all had, to hear our story.
we could not agree which one of us would die, for as one would volunteer the rest would chorus "i will go with you." it was not selflessness but familial love; none of us had known eachother when we began, yet now it felt as though we had never been apart. thus it was decided either we would all die, or none of us would.
then began the discussion of how to survive the storm. clearly, we had done something wrong, and must figure out what it had been. we did not know if we would have another chance. while we were discussing, i saw on the table beside me the dark reddish glass body of a headless deer, rearing proudly. i tried to balance the head on the broken neck, yet it would not stay. the man beside me smiled, and handed me a pale green bandaid from his pocket. this i wrapped about the deer's neck, whose tiny black eyes seemed to watch the discussion with muted curiosity from atop it's new bodily pedastal. originally, i remembered, the tiny deer head had been mounted on the officer's door, there had been no body, and i had not carried it. yet the body and the mounting seemed simultaneously to have always had been at the base of the neck.
and that was my dream.