Between the Broken Stone | Chapter 3

“Oh Captain, my Captain!” What witty mockery I hear calling in the distance. Yet I know my trip is far from done. I sit and ponder along the horizon, not quite sure what to make of the scenery:

I see the sun painting impressionistic scenes upon the land. The wind, a pointillist, is painting points along the landscape – changing the land and gently blowing on. The ocean speaking like greetings, waving to me gently. The sky clouds over the sun – the painter itself. I paint picture with my words.

I look over to a surprise of a young man. ‘Watching’ me, he is a hypnotist. I am quickly in his timeless trance, but even he has not the time to finish. I stand on a formation of rocks that is barely stable.

The foundation beneath me breaks and I am thrown into the wild waves of temptation and sin.

Did I leave a dream unanswered and pay the price? Perhaps it was the price of my common cents, the price of my spirits!... For I do no feel I can longer can inebriate myself. Mr. Middleton can not longer be my friend.

“Oh Captain, my Captain… has fallen cold and dead"