The illusioners ship

As I steer my ship I look forward and do all I can to keep the gaze most becoming of a captain. Which is pointless because my crew was now a series of whispers in the wind, whispers of songs. A trick of the light tells me their locations, which are closer than I would care to be to such unhappy memories. They now belong to the wind; disloyal to me, they shouldn’t matter as much as they do, still, they try to set my ship off course and define me with their so-called songs. I quickly tame the phantoms and regain the illusion of control over my ship, and as I go into town people give compliments as if my illusion was reality.

I walk with my hood up to conceal my identity, but they see right through the disguise, no matter how carefully planned it was.

“Captain LuciAnne. you do such a good job steering that ship by yourself!” I hear them say their lies with such confidence that the best of the actors would be jealous, because even they can’t fool themselves this easily.

My stomach boils with hatred towards that name. That darn name LuciAnne, or light chosen by God, but that could not be further from the truth. Unless it was referring to being chosen for damning. I feel meaningless, almost as meaningless as that lying name. Granted, it is fitting for the liar it names. I make my way towards the castle, each step leading towards an unattainable goal. “After I hand my maps to the king, I will go back to the ship and sail again.” I think to myself.

The ship I left behind was old and in bad shape. I did my best to keep it clean, but ships are hard to clean when you are alone. dirt… the concept is no stranger to me but fascinating nevertheless. Dirt… am I dirty? I do care about the answer to that question. With or without dirt on my face I am unpresentable to the king… no matter what I know going into this of his response to seeing me, a lesser being, hatred. I know my place in the world. Lost and alone in the waters of life. Loneliness. Yet another idea I find myself captive to… I have nobody. Nothing. If I sank nobody would care. It’s better like that. It’s better I don’t have anyone to miss me. Seawork is dangerous after all. Almost as dangerous as my… oh I probably should not be telling a stranger that.

I arrive at the king’s castle, it’s only slightly late… a new record. I hand him the maps wordlessly and he stares back at me with an eye of fire and bitterness as he dusts off the dirt from my latest masterpiece. His face is so red it looks like he is about to turn me a brighter shade of the same color. I know instantly that I should not have come here.

“These maps are not accurate, captain,” he says as I hand him my work, holding my latest well-planned masterpiece into the air and ripping it into pieces. “It says that there’s an uninhabited island here called Happiness you plan to take for the kingdom. Have you forgotten that said island is uninhabited because it is a cursed place?”

I argue back meaningless things into the wind, but the wind keeps my mouth shut and I am left silent. Silence. Another curiosity of mine. I rarely stay silent. Yet all the same it stays too silent. Silence could mean far too many things, apparently this time, it means unwanted help, and socalled care to be given to me.

“Go help our friend out,” the king responds to my closed lips ominously. “She looks lost at sea.”

I try escaping back to my ship only to realize it has managed to sink. I failed to keep the illusion afloat. I have lost everything. The wind turned against me, and now I hear the shipyard’s workers advance towards me, and I take my sword out of its holder.

“It’s pointless, Illusioner.” One worker yells “drop your weapon, we have you surrounded.”

“You’re right. I am a pointless illusioner…” I respond, as I drop my weapon. “I am not a captain of a sailing ship anymore.”

“Great, then come here. We want to help,” another worker says, but then stops talking when I take a step backwards and sink to the bottom of the ocean with the ship I once captained.

“I am a captive of a sinking ship.” I continue, uttering my last words to the world around me as I become one with a socalled song in the wind. A captain must sink as the wreck they call themselves.

As I sink, I watch the workmen prepare for their own voyages and I pray to the lord I don’t trust. A short prayer that their crews don’t suffer the way mine did. Their banners now at the bottom of the endless sea, along with me, who joined the drops of endless water.