Atgal

Alice Ford


Floating

Floating

It's a warm early morning, dawn creeping up behind the green forest as strands of light peek through the towering trees.

In the quiet moments, as everyone still sleeps, a new day arose in Port Navas.

 

 The darkness of the night is now completely consumed by the colours of dawn.  A sense of tranquillity fills the warm air, as the pastel colours paint the sky. In the distance, the sound of birds chirping their melodies, adds to the ambiance of the morning.  

 

The very few clouds look like pink fluffy candy floss, hovering in the sky. It is a silence that fills the salty air with a sense of peace. 

 

I can taste the salt in the air, my skin and hair dry, and cracking from swimming in the sea last night. The hair on my arms is now blonde and the nail paint on my toes is now chipping. My skin is now sun-kissed and freckled from all of the days out on our new boat, wakeboarding. 

 

There it was, the old sailboat my family has had for years. It was floating on the smooth surface of the gentle sea, barely rocking up and down, like a cradle. The only sound is the soft splashing of waves against the hull. The boat is aged and worn, from the generations of countless journeys across the distant sea. You can tell by the salt marks all over the black-painted hull, almost like battle scars. The paint, once vibrant, is now slowly peeling off and the sails that once flapped in the wind, are now tightly tucked into the beam. On board, where it was once buzzing with my family having drinks in the summer, is now empty. The absence of wind makes the boat look lifeless. 

 

Time seems to stand still, as the early, gentle breeze brushes upon the surface of the completely flat ocean, the boat's reflection, almost like a mirror. The sailboat stands tall, towering above the ducklings that swim by, leaving a small trail of bubbles behind. The weather vane on the top of the sailboat is still, after spinning through all the windy and stormy days. 

 

The sailboat is attached to a buoy, with a rope covered with seaweed and barely holding together. The neon orange color of the buoy reflects off the water, only seeing the top, with the chain hidden under the surface.  

 

The water is surrounded by trees and forests, with no room for sand and beaches. When the tide is out, you can see mud and seaweed. You can only reach the boats and drive out to the sea when the tide is in.


 




Pateikta: 09:19 Fri, 22 March 2024 by : Alice Ford age : 15