Come home to me...

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Note to self...

Work in progress. Subject to edit. Have folks here who are of the opinion that this writing thing is a lovely hobby but the stuff here, washing dishes and feeding the animals, is more important. Lucky me. There's always the refuge of a short story.

BBL.



(PS. sorry about the "romance novel" aspect of this story. I'm going to try hard to make it not so much. ")


Here's the short story and other posts that I did write today. Don't have much time. I'm fixing to be lectured on my lack of responsibility and those dishes. LOL



To begin?


You must remember that the sea is made of romance and is full of stories that begin with the words,


"Once upon a time...".
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"...

"Dear "Husband of My Heart",

I remember.

The letter you sent that said for the first time the words, "Dear" and my name.

I remember.

Some memories are hard,

but they are our saving grace and now my refuge.

I sit here in this quiet house and I pray. A person can't help who they love. It is like the Sun breaking from Heaven. A gift. But the world and the responsibilities that we know, they divide us. They contrive to make us enemies in this world and the next. For days and months and years, I've prayed. Surely there was some way that my love, my friend, would come back to me. I never knew just how wide this ocean was until now.

I'm sorry. For what I have done to separate us, I am deeply and truly sorry. There's rarely a second that I don't remember.


Until the day that the good Lord is merciful and grants me rest, I will petition for our friendship. Perhaps this is just a test of our good and faithful hearts. That the will of our hearts be just out of reach of our grasp will be like that of Job, only a season. Surely the God who made love and mercy will look down from Heaven. See our steadfast hearts. Give usmercy. Since the time on Earth is short and our time in Heaven eternal, I'll keep this faith.

Til then, hold tight to the joys of this world.

Even in our sorrow, there is still Love.

Hold on to the ship's wheel. Make tight the sail.

I'll see you on the shore.

When you come home to me.


Your wife,

The Northern Star."



From the Log of the Northern Star, 23 August.

Dear wife,

The clouds on the eastern horizon are red tonight. We're restless and loaded with goods. Should we make it home, we'll be rich in silver and gold. No more worries. Still there's much to do. At the last port there was talk of pirates and now these red skies. I'll rest easy tomorrow or we'll have headed right into the eye of God. Only one hurricane I've seen. This ship is tight. She'll sail like a bottle on the troubled seas but with us loaded down in the hull, I'm worried.

I keep the ships log in a keg inside a bottle with a waxed cork. An address for you is inside. Each entry another letter I would send should I be able. I promise that I'll read it to you myself but if not someone on will find it and send it to you. Rest now and listen like I told you. When you go to the sea and your whole self is immersed in the water? You'll hear my heart beating for you there.

The Husband of Your Heart,"

Later, 23 August...

Wife, I have only alittle time to write this. The red clouds we saw are indeed a hurricane. We've joined up with the Ephemeral Sea in hopes of finding safe passage. Michael is in a state. Something about the captain being St Peter's emmisary.

Remember what I said. The heart beat you hear in the ocean is mine.

Your husband."






They found her on the coast. A keg tied to a rope wound round her waist. Her hair like seaweed. Her face serene but ghostly white. Inside the keg, they found the ships log and her letters to him, and a telegram to his wife ,

"Northern Star, lost at sea, found. Stop. Crew missing. Stop. Captain found tied to this keg. Stop. He's alive but barely. Stop. Instruction to send the keg to his wife. Stop. And to send his "...tired old carcass and the ships hold to "the Wife of His Heart" Stop



Because the words should be said..."


From the story, "Love Letters From the Ephemeral Sea" 23August, 2010, All rights reserved by the author. (Ironchassis/AuthorAnn/WriterAnn)
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LOL We're all on a bit of a rough voyage, this life.


Note to self..

This passage

"...They found her on the coast. A keg tied to a rope wound round her waist. Her hair like seaweed. Her face serene but ghostly white. Inside the keg, they found the ships log and her letters to him, and a telegram to his wife ,..."


subject to revision. Honestly I'm not sure how to word this. In my story, I want this to be the reveal that the captain's wife in the letters isn't his real wife, it's actually the "wife of his heart". She's someone that he loves. She loves him too but circumstances beyond their control keep them separate. He married his partner's daughter to change him from "indentured servant" to equal. At the time he was all about the money and the "wife of his heart" was someone from his youth. As the marriage grew cold, his memories of this other woman grew warm. Before this voyage he went to her and told her that he was "undone" with sadness. She told him to go back home to his wife. "There is no way, " she told him, " to circumvent the will of God. Only the good Lord in heaven, could grant them mercy." Until then she would pray everyday that they would find some peace.

I'm just not sure how to word it so that this will be self evident in the passage above.


Just sayin.

I just read this story to WB. When he went outside he was full of, "you are responsible for more than just writing words on paper." He came back into where I was reading aloud this story. First, he made light of it. It's called "fly catching" in the theater. LOL When he bent over to get something out of the cabinet, all I could see was his rear end. I laughed out loud and told him that I finally could see his best side. He laughed and then grew quiet.

"Did you write that?" he asked.

"I did."

"That's sad."

Then he left the kitchen without the expected lecture. Left me alone to write.


Hugs, Gentle Reader.

It would seem that I am writing again.

This time with WB's blessings.








the lyrics by Al Stewart

"Oh you slipped away from the harbour side
In the morning bright and clear
And your sails were filled with the rising wind
And you laughed for all to hear
But you never glanced at the ragged dance
Of your lovers on the quay
Don't call on them when the winds rise high
On the dark and the rolling sea

Oh you set your course for the furthest shores
And you never once looked back
And the flag you flew was a pirate cross
On a field of velvet black
And those landsmen who you but lately knew
Were left stranded on the lea
Don't call on them when the storm clouds rise
On the dark and the rolling sea

Oh I have no need of a chart or creed
You told your waiting crew
For the winds of chance, they will bear us straight
And you spoke as though you knew
So you paid no mind to the warning signs
As you gave your words so free
Don't change your tack when the timbers crack
On the dark and the rolling sea

Now the thunder rails in the great mainsails
And the stars desert the skies
And the rigging strains as the hands of rain
Reach down to wash your eyes
And your oarsmen stands with his knife in hand
And his eyes spell mutiny
Don't call my name when your ship goes down
On the dark and the rolling sea"



LOL, look folks, I'm a writer. Okay. Before anyone starts trying to overlay their own bias onto this post? Please, this is a writer's blog. Fact and fiction coexist here. If you don't know which is which? Don't assume. Ask. Thanks.

Ironchassis aka Author Ann or as Saenz calls me?

Writter Ann.


all rights owned by the author.






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