Notes – Here is another entry from a Creative Cafe writer’s meeting. It was based on words or phrases which included comfortable and eyes closed. Enjoy.  

I felt most comfortable with my eyes closed. My imagination could roam around in the fields. The crops brushed softly against my unshackled hands. There was no salt in the air as I breathed in. The birdsong was pleasant and would not rip through your dreams.

“You think we can join their crew if they take the ship?” I didn’t feel like answering.

My eyes stayed shut as I cursed everything. The farm was boring, life on a ship seems adventurous. I was young and knew it all. Troy got us on a boat. The captain had a silver tongue. That same captain gave us up to spare his own life, and may the Gods of the sea have him come back as a lobster dinner.

The boat rocked again as another volley hit it. Troy yelled out and tried to melt through the bars of his cell. 

“I don’t want to die here!”

“We aren’t guaranteed death, Troy.” It was the ugliest lie I ever told or had heard. He didn’t believe me.

Another explosion rocked the ship. The cannonball brought light to our jail. We all looked up in unison as the sounds of the mast rang out. First, it sounded as if a tree was cracking above our heads. Next came the crash.

“I told you we are going to die.”

I learned a lot at that moment. The faces around me told stories that would never escape lips. Hysteria was painted all over the greenie’s faces. Some tried to break free from their shackles and cells. The veterans sat and knew. Whether today was their end or just another chapter in their life, it was in the God’s hands. 

The confusion washed over Troy’s face as I sat silently. I accepted my fate no matter what today held. I stopped being a coward when I saw what happened to our scumbag captain. All I knew was that once we got to shore, I was buying a farm.

I could feel water soaking my boots and pants as I stayed seated. A new wave of terror struck through the cells as the word “sinking” was tossed around. 

“Come save us!” Troy had spirit.

I stood up and looked over the crew. We were pirates, no one was saving us.

A rhythm was rising behind the yells and panic. It was a tune I did not recognize, but I planned on learning it in the next few minutes. 

The baritone voice in the cell behind me rose to match those of his crewmates. I watched his lips move as the water moved to waist-deep. 

Phrases of “going down with our ship” and “rest at the bottom of the sea” in the lyrics did nothing to pacify those who panicked.

Our light source was covered in blue-green as the sea filled our cells. My anger continued to keep me from being frantic.

I let my thoughts drift. The boat was sinking and I kept trying to learn the song. I guess I was cut out to be a sailor.