A Year at Sea

Mornin’, Sailor. Join me on the Deck.

Water’s calm today. Then again, it is most days now. Even so, a lot has happened since we set sail 12 months ago. Can ye believe it? A whole year out on these waves. I’m proud of ye, Sailor. I wasn’t sure ye’d keep it together, but ye done just fine on the journey this far. Aye, we’ve only been goin’ in circles, but we ain’t gone under yet, Sailor. No, not yet.

What appears to be a Chris Flexen, at least part of one, is resting on top of the waves about 50 yards out. It sways back and forth on the light waves, never sinking, but unfit to rescue any creature from the vast blue except for perhaps a lost gull. The Captain looks at it, then past it.

Baffles the mind, don’t it Sailor? How a man can be so thirsty surrounded by so much water. Ain’t fair. All of it right there for the takin’, but all of it out of reach. Do ye remember what solid ground feels like, Sailor? Don’t forget. Most of us do. We’ve been warped and deranged by all this time on Poseidon’s roof. Supposin’ I do set foot on the shore again someday, I’m not sure I’d know how to interact with it. Might just melt into a puddle right then ‘n there, Sailor. No, don’t forget. Ye can’t forget.

In the distance, a Siren calls. From an island that doesn’t exist. “Daaaaavid Daaahhhhl,” it shrieks. Foul temptress. “Paaaaxxxtoooon….one yeaaaaaar” it calls on. Playing on the desires of brave, but exhausted men. Must move forward.

All that to say, Sailor…we both know this is only the beginning of our cursed voyage. But it’s what we’re livin’ for, aye? The bond we build, in the struggle to master this ocean. It don’t matter when it ends, though it shall end. All that matters is what we’re becomin’, out here. That and takin’ care of this old nasty ship, Sailor. Don’t ever let her go under, if ye can help it. That’s enough sentiment for now, I think. Now hurry along; go fetch me another photograph of that Stanton fellow.

Thank you for reading and interacting for the past year at Trident Deck!

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