Steer clear

Happy Weekend. Here in Auckland we have a lovely long weekend and we are enjoying every part of it. The story I'm sharing today was an honorable mention for one of Germ magazine's monthly writing challenges. It was the first time I was writing from a male perspective, which means the story lacks tone. I still adore the story-line though. I've worked on my tone since, but I thought I'd give you another example of how you only get better at writing by writing. I hope you enjoy.

Time to improve

Photo by Austin Neill on Unsplash

At sea

These raging waters peak higher than most mountains; roar deeper than the ocean’s depths. In the midst of this soul-sucking storm the withered novel that was my life is read to me in the steady voice that once belonged to my mother and my gut twists just as it did the day I walked away.

I was only 13 when my innocence was stripped of me when I started working for the Andersons. They seemed like decent people and my mum knew we needed the extra money, hence she couldn’t decline the offer from Mr Anderson. Little were we aware of the truth hidden behind their masqueraded behavior. I felt like a grown man at the time, I mean who wouldn’t feel all grown up at 13 if you’re born and raised on a tiny developing island with no real government or monarchy. I earned the extra wages by carrying tons of fish from dock to market, day in and day out. Didn’t seem like much at the time, but oh how I wish I could take back that clumsy little moment of mine. Even though fish aren’t the sturdiest of things to carry, I wish it would not have slipped. I wish it would not have spilled, not one, but three diamond rings. I wish Mr Anderson had not met my eyes at that very moment. I wish I had not realized that I was working for a Captain of a secret pirate ship.

Mr Anderson assured that I wouldn’t utter a word of it to my mother. I was only 13 when I was on the receiving end of a threat. I indecisively paraded with the mask they supplied and soon enough was entrusted with great shipments of stuffed fish. It was only the beginning. I was drowning in the lies before I even set out on my first voyage at sea, never knowing if I will see my mother again; hoping that I would survive the unrelenting sea and even worse, the wicked men who roamed upon it by my side. The voyage stretched 5 months as we showed no mercy to the oblivious ships we came across. We returned with mountains of gold hoping to please him. Every time in vain.

Upon my 17th birthday I was once again at sea to no surprise. My body had gained fair muscle and I was no longer the shortest of the crew. We had just happened upon a promising ship. Deep beneath my layers of masculinity that had been covering the tiny boy that once was innocent, I still knew that those acts were not to my liking. Unfortunately thick layers of masks and lies had already been plastered by countless numbers of threats. When we finally returned, I found none other than Mr Anderson himself leading me towards his office. He made it clear to me that I was to board his ship once again and not to return. He got greedy and needed young men such as myself to take complete control of another ship and stay at sea as long as needed. I was given no choice and much less a voice, for my mother’s life depended on me.

The gallons of tears my mother cried still pours deep into my soul. Still I pray that she has forgiven me for the lies. Still I wish that I could turn back and tell her that I was only trying to protect her; that she was not the one that sold me like a slave. Still I try to forget the pain in her eyes as I accused her for my leaving.

I have been at sea ever since; never took the opportunity to return home when it arrived. I always believed that my end would be met by a blade. Now as the waters envelope every inch of the horizon and the thunder groans deep within its belly. I hear the voice of an angel telling me that she has forgiven me; urging me to let go.

Sometimes we take on responsibilities that aren't ours, we burden ourselves with our past or our circumstances. We hurt the very people we are trying to protect. We are human and we make these kind of mistakes. What matters, is that we learn from our mistakes. An apology takes a minute but it lasts a lifetime.

Who do you owe an apology?

Join the conversation in the comments below, or on Instagram or Facebook. I love to hear your thoughts, poke them a bit too. If you've made it this far, you want more, right? Head over the the Destination page and tell me who you want to forgive and how.