Reach for the sky (Prose)

The sky was overcast and the air bit savagely as it preyed through the night. A distant thunder grumbled low and guttural, like a battle hungry beast. Such voraciousness needed release. The storm would deliver - it always did.

An undulating swell of heavy murky water regurgitated an ocean battered raft, spitting it against the dark muddy river bank. It rocked back and forth hitting the bank like a demented soul lost in a reflective prison.

The ropes that held the raft's integrity were severely frayed. Freezing water tugged and pulled at each aching section threatening the latent energy of every fibre. Like the fragility of a baby bird that falls from its nest. Its destiny is determined by the flip of a coin - flight or finality?

Though the thunder tolled and the air continued to cut and slash its accompanying beat, the raft remained whole, refusing to give way to the onslaught of cruelty. The days spent at sea bore it strength and honed determination to go on.

The storm had gone for now, replaced by a brighter day. Somehow though this day was different? Today's morning sun seemed to bring with it a hope and vitality. The raft floated gently on a smooth mirrored surface. Today was going to be different; it was going to be a day for change to commence.

Change had always been an option, but never had it been a priority. Never had it been wanted enough; wanted more than the life had so far. This raft deserved to understand the purpose of the relentless storms, the battles that seemed to repeat, somehow seek out the reason why?

Why be a raft, when there's a yacht in all of us?

M. Moran
30.12.2011