A Word to Readers

Dear Readers,
I am going away for some time and I will come back sometime in the middle of JANUARY. When I do, I will notify you.

I posted again on The Light.

Hi, I will post every Saturday from now on, but there might be a few exceptions. If so, I will notify you. The new post I have posted today will be continued every week on the same post. Notice that I have put the date on the top left hand corner. I will do so every week so that you know where you have left off.

At the same time, I would like to thank all of you faithful readers for encouraging me. Your encouragement has motivated me to publish a book. In fact, Dawn is going to be my first book. The prologue I posted on this blog is a rough draft of the book's prologue. I'll keep you posted on my progress, but I cannot reveal the details --Book Progress: Chapter 14

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Sailing the Seas of Death

     As I am writing this, huddled in a tight space between swinging hammocks and uncomfortable straw mattresses barely filled with enough straw to serve as a meal for a half-grown horse, I yearn for the beautiful countryside with its rolling hills and endless sapphire-blue skies. I yearn for the soft sound of the leaves and dried grass crunching underfoot and the constant rushing of the river, of water over stone, and of spinning droplets plunging back into the moving sheet of water that had yielded them. I yearn for the leaves that would change color from emerald green to vibrant hues ranging from scarlet to the brilliant yellow of the sun at its zenith. By now, the ground would have been blanketed with hues of the setting sun, until the whole world seems to be spun from gold.
     But here, in the dim, musty 'tween deck of the ship, only the now-familiar creaking of the floorboardswhich have replaced the lilting birdsong of the countryside, skittering of rodents, and cries full of longing and heartbreak fill my ears. The wind that had so often whispered to me, telling of far-off lands yet to be discovered, has fallen silent, as if its voice has been lostjust as we are. I have been aboard the Blessing three months now. For three whole months, I have lived in a cramped space filled with sixty other passengers, with a building odor and no fresh airthe rays of the sun have not warmed my face in what seems like an eternityand my nights spent tossing and turning, for the noise on the 'tween deck is too great for the wings of sleep to envelop me in their embrace. For three whole months, I have lived off of moldy biscuits too hard to bite, meat swarming with maggots, and tainted water that has caused so many to fall ill. For three whole months, I have not seen a single speck of land.
     I no longer believe the captain knows what he is doing. We were meant to sail south to the Canary Islands and then cross the Atlantic Ocean to the Caribbean. We would then set sail for north, yet I doubt we will make it, for our food provisions are running dangerously low and sooner or later we will starvebefore we reach the new land, before we begin our new lives. I wish I could go up to the upper deck, if only to think and clear this mind of the dread and doubt building within it, but it is prohibited. If only I could see the sparkling seas stretching into the distance and the sun a glowing disk of fire above me, its rays of sunlight the messengers bringing word that dawn has come... Life has been harsh in the past few months, for I have been cooped up too long, and I hope you are well. I know you have been contemplating the option of leaving England, and I hope you will consider this wisely. Others on this ship have caught diseases due to lack of vitaminsthe doctor saidand many other causes. Many have perished under the iron fist of Scurvy.
     So, please, tell me: Is the prospect of a new life worth sailing the seas of death?

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