I felt like writing, and I ended up with this. I'm not entirely sure what it is. Please tell me what you think about it. It's just a oneshot with out any real plot. Feel free to critisize, praise, or generally comment.
------------------------------------------------------I watched him. My eyes followed him as he swaggered around the room, oblivious of my presence. Or was he?
He turned around, just a slight twist of his head, and a quick shift of his eyes to the left. I drew back, and I saw the curtains flutter a little, as from a soft wind. He started a little, and lifted one of his strong, dirty hands, and I saw the gleam of candle light in the big ruby ring on his index finger.
He stretched his arm slowly and suddenly it shot forward, as if he hoped to catch something. He grabbed the air behind me. He drew the hand back almost leisurely, holding it up before his dark eyes…
They reminded me of the drink I had heard the Spaniards talk about in one of the shady ports of Mexico. Xocolatl, they had called it. I remembered the shadow of the smell, and the texture as I had traced my fingers in it. It was a long time ago, long before this strange man.
…and waving it back and forth. He mumbled to himself, his voice rising and falling like he was singing, taking a few staggering steps towards his desk and the maps strewn across it, and I knew that a bottle of the strong smelling liquor they called rum.
It was relatively new, this popular beverage. But it was no different than anything else I had seen on the ship before.
He did not take it though, but twirled around, in a mock of a pirouette, and said to the air:
or maybe to me…?
"I know ye're there. Show yerself!"
He sounded unsure, as if he doubted himself, and his eyes looked to big for his face.
I just looked at him.
He stood staring at my corner for some time, and then swore under his breath and stormed out from the room.
I remained standing for some time, feeling him moving restlessly around the ship. I felt the wind shaking his black braids, making them sing to the dark ocean. I felt his boots pounding the worn planks of the deck as he walked up the steps to the helm. I felt him standing before the helm, his body emitting heat that scalded the wood. He reached out and caressed it, tracing the helm's form as if it had been a woman. His touch was tender, almost loving, and I felt it in the core of my being.
"Freedom...", he whispered.
That is the only name he knows me by, the captain of this ship. He doesn't know I'm here, but he feels me. I am what draws him to this ship. I am the essence of the sea, the soul of ocean and the heart of the ship. How I came to be here, I do not know. I have seen many masters, and many times, but before him, I was hardly aware of being. I existed in a shadowland, until he came. He loves me.
Maybe I died. Maybe I simply ceased to live. Maybe I never even lived. I am not sure. But I draw him to me. He does not love any woman except me, and it will remain that way.
As he caressed me, I knew he would never leave me. Just as I wanted it.