Commended -- Junior Section
Prospect High School
The song of water trickling against the roof echoed against the caves of my ear canals as I wearily rubbed my fists against my eyes to try and fight against the sleep weighing my eyelids down. A small groan escaped my lips as I began to stretch, my gaze dragging across my surroundings slowly, pinpointing where I am in the world. Ah, that’s right.
Weathered oak planks surrounded me as I lay under a soggy sheet of canvas, the small area of the material barely covering my frail body. After the first strain of morning energy surged through my veins, I pulled myself out from the lousy and uncomfortable bed, and with a small push past the curtain door, the first pure light of day hit me.
My eyes quickly adjusted, and I then made out the form of the sail, waving like a flag in the licks of wind, holstered up by the ropes attached via the mast. I let out a small sigh, before I then looked out to the vast ocean spread across the entire horizon. The only thing to contrast against the blue was the dull brown of the oak ship I stood upon. The familiar looming feeling of unknowingness sunk like an anchor in my stomach yet again, and I slowly looked in the direction of the bow, my attention brought back to the usual blob of darkness in the sky, and the water. It was bigger than usual, darker, and I realised, I must be close.
“I can do this… I want to…” My weak voice had encouraged, to no one in particular, raspy from dehydration. The vast loneliness was lifting a little as the faint circle became clearer as I kept sailing. All hope was not lost, this unidentifiable object lifting my dimmed spirit. A small smile tugged at my lips, and I stepped drastically towards the front of the sailboat, splaying my arms out in the cool breeze and absorbing the feeling of triumph. I knew this strange water eclipse was the lighthouse to my storm.
Before I fastened the good feelings completely, I let suspicion seep into the decks of my mind. What is this circle? It’s difficult to describe, but the best way to put it is like a giant spherical shadow disrupting the waves. I’ve never been this close to it, though. Something draws me towards it, like it’s the key to this endless journey.
I look away from the goal, and a wave of hunger gurgles in the sea of acid in my stomach. I haven’t eaten in so long, man, I wish this were a banana boat. I really don’t know how much longer I can survive. I slump down onto the soaked deck, my clothes tainted damp from the assaults of the waves crashing into the vessel. The sky shifts, turning from the plain blue to a dull yellow, and I watch as the colours blend into each other while another day sets itself to rest. And when the day needs rest, so do I.
The next thing I remember was the feeling of being thrown against the wall. I exclaimed something crude as my peaceful slumber was disturbed, and I immediately felt both anxious and curious as to what this disturbance was. The bitter smell of saltwater spoke to my nostrils before I could fully process what was going on. And then I processed what was going on.
The bow was harboured up against a ginormous wall of soft cork, the dull colour was underwhelming yet the sight of something that was not my boat and the sea overwhelmed me. I drank in my surroundings, analysing this new situation. The shadowy circle was gone, which I can only assume is now right in front of me, this giant wall of cork. But after the amazement of the new stimulant died down, confusion set deep back in. Cork?
I felt boxed. The horizon looked thick, and reality came crashing down upon me. I am trapped, and what I thought was the key to my prison cell turned out to be the bars keeping me locked in.
I’m trapped in a glass coffin, sealed with a cork gravestone.
I’m on a ship, in a bottle.
