Is there ever a good reason to get blindingly drunk?
You know, there was a man once who found me quite on accident whilst mumbling and stuttering like a fool. I had somehow ended up quite far away from where I had once been, in a manor in an island where the old rains I once knew fell hot and wet and where there were people of a color I had not seen in centuries. He was no nobleman and I could tell by the way he hung his shoulders that there was something decidedly sorrowful that he mourned. He was the quintessence of blindingly drunk, I may say, as with eyes full open he crashed into me, and only because I was leaning against the dark blue velvet curtains of this manor did I not fall and shatter like my predecessor.
He looked up at my filigree, read my inscription, traced on dirty finger across my left and lowest corner. The smudge remained even after he had left.
All at once I smelled the coolness of salt water, sprayed on my surface. Saw the brilliant color of a sunset over a wide expansive plain of everlasting blue. Felt the roughness of the well-worn wood underneath the newly enchanted palm of my hand. It was a delicious refreshing feeling to reach up and feel as if the mast and the sails and the entire ocean was mine.
Freedom.
He left me soon after, not one to stay on the floor gazing up at a mirror while inebriated. But since he came not back, I can only assume from the gleam in his eye and the lilt in his step that he was going to chase something and something beautiful.
[word count = 277]
He looked up at my filigree, read my inscription, traced on dirty finger across my left and lowest corner. The smudge remained even after he had left.
All at once I smelled the coolness of salt water, sprayed on my surface. Saw the brilliant color of a sunset over a wide expansive plain of everlasting blue. Felt the roughness of the well-worn wood underneath the newly enchanted palm of my hand. It was a delicious refreshing feeling to reach up and feel as if the mast and the sails and the entire ocean was mine.
Freedom.
He left me soon after, not one to stay on the floor gazing up at a mirror while inebriated. But since he came not back, I can only assume from the gleam in his eye and the lilt in his step that he was going to chase something and something beautiful.
[word count = 277]