Unforgiving Shores

A metaphorical story about a lapse in judgement. There is additional information in the "Note for Reviewing" section that may help in understanding this story. I couldn't fit them here.

As the day starts to make way for night and the skies take on an orange glow I stand oblivious to the change.  I have watched sunsets like this in the past in awe but tonight I am unaware.  My mind is wrestling with the change in the waters I have been traveling.  The waves are starting to boil and the wind is flooding into my sails.  My course is becoming harder to steer as the waves push me toward the rugged unforgiving shores.

With night completely upon me, I check my boat.  Securing loose ropes, gear and sails.  Checking my boats lines in the reflection of the water to see the long sleekness and full sails that I have trusted for years.  A phosphorescent trail following me like a faint scent of perfume, slight, but enough to be detected up close.

Traveling up the coast I am looking for shelter from the approaching storm.  I have not traveled these waters before and I keep an eye out for the shoals that lurk just under the water.  Shoals waiting to tear into my hull and leave me shattered like countless before.

The shore is ominously close.  I can see the torn hulls and shattered skeletons of boats that came before me.  Boats that were once proud and majestic now are laid bare on the rocks, wasting away in the foamy surf.  Thrown about with each crashing wave.

My senses are reeling, fear and need are overwhelming me.  Needing safety.  Needing shelter.  Rounding the point a lone lighthouse stands out.  Beckoning to me, inviting me to the shelter that it overlooks.  The leeward shelter I need to protect me from the coming storm.

I see it at last, a lone lighthouse, towering above the sea at the top of the cliffs.  How could all these other boats have not seen this?  How could others have gotten so close but been lost within sight?

Altering my course toward the lighthouse, I lower my sails slightly and let the wind run out to slow my progress.  I carefully navigate between the wrecked boats on either side of the entrance.  I'm afraid to glance at them for fear I will be lost as well.

Entering the channel I am taken by how inviting and comforting the shelter is.  A gentle breeze, the scent of Jasmine, the sound of wild life, calm waters and the lighthouse towering above.  I drop my sails and coast farther into the cove, letting the lighthouse show me the path.  I drop my anchors and feel them take hold, the ropes whispering out a moan under the strain. 

The lighthouse towers above the cove.  Towers above me. Watching over my boat, protecting me.  I hear the rage of the storm in the distance.  I feel the rhythmic rolling of the waves.  The anchor ropes moaning with each wave.  The sound of waves crashing against the wreckage outside at the peak of the storm fill my head.  I sense the storm easing as the tide starts to ebb.  I feel my fears fall away as I pass into a peaceful sleep.

In the morning I wake as an eerie feeling comes over me, a feeling of stillness, bleakness and emptiness.  On deck I'm shocked by the contrast to what I saw last night.  The cove that brought so much comfort and safety is lined with rock walls.  Jagged craggy rocks rising up from the bottom, reaching out at the hull of my boat.  There is no breeze, no Jasmine and no wild life.  Nothing.  Just loneliness, danger and despair.

Navigating out of the cove my boat is scrapped and clawed at from the rock walls and from the depths.  Scratching, gouging and tearing into my sails and hull.  Dirt falling from above stains my sails and decks.  The entrance is so small I struggle get my boat through and onto the open seas. 

 

How could I have gotten in last night?  How could it have been so inviting?

With my sails raised the cove falls behind me.  I am back on the seas that I know and trust.  Gentle rolling waves and a sweet breeze.  The sun warming my shoulders and back.  

As I make my way up the coast I glance over my shoulder for the lighthouse.  It's no where to be found.  How could it have burned so bright and been so comforting last night but be gone now?  The wrecked boats of last night are gone, too.  The entrance to the cove is gone.  Nothing is to be seen.  

My boat bares the scars of the storm.  Some deep and some only on the surface, some can be easily repaired and some will be lasting.

Thinking about the wrecked boats of the previous night I wonder if it was them that were truly wrecked by not finding shelter or was it because of my urgency to find shelter from the storm that I saw them as wrecked? 

Adjusting my sails and fixing my course I am left with foreboding that the wrecked boats from last night were not lost at all but rather that it was me that laid bare my soul as wreckage on the shores?

Author's Note

Please feel free to help me correct what I'm sure are glaring error.

The story is about a point in my life where I had just broken up with my boyfriend after a long term relationship. It's set up as a one-night stand but that never happened.
The boat is me, sails are my dress and the storm is a desire in me to feel loved and wanted. Looking at the lines of the boat in the water is a reference to looking at myself in a mirror. The lighthouse is a guy, kind of phallic. The cove is a reference to finding the love I needed, albeit temporary and the looking back the next day is kind of a reference to the false hopes and dreams of the night before. Other boats are other women. The damage and dirt is kind of obvious, bad feelings about what I've done.

I hope this helps a little.

If you have any questions or just think I'm wacked please feel free to let me know.

Thank you,
Michelle

Reviews

[A.V. Bozic]

Your grand metaphore shows from the start, setting a dramatic stage. In the middle I think I am reading just a boating story, one well told though. Then you bring the metaphore back with a fantasy scene at the end.

Some questions: Did you want the metaphore to tell the story, or did you want to explain the metaphore for your reader? Did you really want to introduce fantasy instead of sticking with a realistic metaphore?

[AK]

It is really good! I dont find anything wrong. It's perfect!

[Bare trees]

I think your explanation is a good one and looking back at the details I think it all fits in well with a couple of exceptions. Your clothes being the sails may be a little overdoing it unless you're refering to a dress. The lines of the boat in the water and a mirror seem a little abstract to me. Most people would see those lines as the past gone by.

However, It's certainly refreshing to see someone use creativity to write about their experiences for a change instead of the same old "he broke my heart" poem. I think if I were to write this I would explain it more as a dream and then the dream explained. Overall I think it was a good and very interesting story on its own. Nice writing.

* I feel my fears fall away as I pass into a peacefully sleep. (peaceful sleep)

[Renee1016]

I don't see any glaring errors. In fact, I really like this alot! You have talent, so its a shame you haven't written in so long. Keep posting and use your insight to review other people's work (like mine :P). Well done!