Untitled Work

Something I've been working on. Character based. Introspective. Hopefully witty?

[Forward]

    For most of us, life's trail is worn, weathered and uncertain.  Its terrain is bogged with leaves and moss and weeds; there are signs of a path, yet the path isn't clear.  There is an end-point where once reached one can proudly claim they unearthed the secrets of the land and led themselves to their desired destination.  But even more likely, there are almost infinite paths that lead to confusion, chaos, and despair.
    Yet, even knowing that there are more ways to fail, more ways to concede defeat, very few roads exist that don't provide a return route.  Even when one walks down the most decrepit, desolate and down-trodden path, almost always up ahead lies the road to redemption.  And yet, as our travels become empirical, and life's desperation becomes commonplace, our feet grow accustomed to the thick roots and jagged rocks; so accustomed, in fact, that the discomfort subsides and humans' natural resilience makes us become attuned to misery in order to maintain an equilibrium.
    The irony is that the very part of the human experience that allows one to conquer any obstacle also allows one to become content with being conquered.  Even a slave finds something to appreciate, as this life is precious - and thus that very trait allows one to accept stagnation.
    And that's when we should say no more.  That's when we should embrace what's after the nothingness.  That place that exists where no hope can be seen.  
    That's the after nothing.



[chapter 1] - it's 3 a.m... too early to live or to soon to die?

    He woke amidst the chaos.  The torrential storms that raged within for what seemed an eternity slowly went into remission.  A nightmare for another night.
    He looked at the clock.  It was 3 a.m.  Using the light emitting from the alarm clock, he reached for what he thought was a glass.  A glass cunningly filled with water, there to comfort him, to hydrate his inebriated and thus dehydrated self.  But his foresight failed him as it wasn't a glass filled with water; it was a scented candle whose wick died hours earlier.
    Memories and images came flooding back to his conscious mind.  The touch of a woman's bosom, the caress of silky smooth skin, and a will to please and be pleased surfaced.  And yet he was too thirsty to reminisce.  Too void of liquids to appreciate what had transpired mere hours ago.  He was still quite inebriated.
    He battled internally whether to suffer his dehydrated state or become resolute and rise to the occasion, stumble out of bed and fill that glass with the fluids of life and drink deep.  10 minutes passed and he remained passive.  But the thirst remained un-quenched.  And then reality, earlier subdued from overwhelming intoxication, struck the most sobering blow in its repertoire.  Someone wanted to kill him.
    "You know I want to please you, Mr. [Last Name].  But shouldn't you flee... with such imminent danger?" Lorhein, such a well spoken maiden, the one in charge of passengers on the starboard side, so sweetly and sincerely pleaded amidst the throes of their embrace.  
    "What danger?" Mr. [Last Name] inquired, fully ignorant of their then on-going conversation, as his libido and intoxication had usurped control and suppressed reason.
    "The gunshot at dinner..." she managed to plea despite the pleasure of his touch.  "The man that died... you said it should have been you..."  And then the memories became a haze again, his thirst still needing quenched.  Without realizing it, having disappeared over the last few moments into the recesses of his mind, he found himself standing in the bathroom with cold water flowing from the faucet.  Instinctively he brought the cup to his mouth and savored every ounce.
    "That's there and we're here... and my adrenaline is begging for an escape.  Do you not want me?" he asked her.
    "You know I pine for you... I wish to pleasure you..." Lorhein replied.  "Were you fibbing... did you concoct that story to entice me and to have your way with me?  Because you should know that without encouragement I still would lust after you..."
    "Then shush, little one, and embrace the inevitable..."  
    Damn your impudence!  Damn your lust and your inability to resist temptation!  Those were but a few of the thoughts criticizing him internally.  The rest were images of Lorhein's naked body; such youthful and perky skin and n*****s with no poker-face as they hardened visibly with the proper stimuli.  A formula that over the past few months at sea he had learned to master.
    At sea!  The reality of the situation slowly crept from beneath the cover of alcohol and sex.  He was stranded on a cruise liner over a hundred miles from land and even further from home.  And someone wanted him dead.
    That's when the panic set in.  Panic nestled with anxiety, battering away at his mind.  And yet, where was Lorhein?  She was there when he lost conscious memory.  She had been there almost every night.  Her warmth, her light snore, her auburn hair resting on his chest.  
    "Lorhein!  Lorhein... come back... oh what could I have said?" 

[chapter 2] - will you forgive me for my arrogance?

    Lorhein crept out of bed, slowly escaping his embrace, much the same way she had every night, to complete her evening rounds.  After all, Mr. [Last Name] wasn't her only responsibility, yet he clearly meant the most to her out of any passenger before.  But what he said still irked her and invoked her ire; yet she was subservient to his will.  She dutifully stayed put until he no longer remained conscious so as to not arouse any suspicion.
    "You're a damned fool..." she recalled whispering into his ear as she bit down with a sweet nibble.  He had said the very thing that could freeze her heart; a frost bite to her very essence.  It was unfair, damn it, to strike a chord that disrupted her internal melody.  She thought of herself as disciplined and refined as an orchestra, she the maestro dictating each note in perfect harmony.  And yet his words disrupted the melody and in turn made him maestro, leaving her but a witness to his whim and will.  Never again could that happen she had sworn to herself.
    But could she blame him?  She provoked and all but pleaded for him to feel the way he claimed.  And it was all she had desired... but not like this.  Not with so much tension and chaos - and with so little understanding of what transpired.  Should she remain mute and submissive, or should she take charge and care for the man who made her question every conviction she established?   She decided to take charge.  



[chapter 3] - will you swim with me?

    The Konga Korona [name of the boat] shook violently in the storm.  The ebbs and flows of the sea battered the ships hull and dumb founded the captain and his crew.  Never had they experienced such a relentless and deadly storm.  God's that never before had been called upon were now flooded with prayers.  

[fin as of now]