Ok this is probably gonna be reaaaally bad but I'm gonna do it anyway. Cause it's my blog ya know, and if I want to write short thing in a language that I barely can manage is my issue. Say this, here we go.
You know that painting, the one with the fisherman kissing his wife away in the middle of the waves of an enraged sea. Floating over a mere piece of wood and saying goodbye to the love of his life, seeing her dissapear in the dark water, knowing that surely, he is next, and both are going to be reunited in the next life.
You know that painting because you paint it of course. With a wishful thinking, because the one who drowned that night was your husband, not a single day has passed without you wishing that it was the other way around. The pirates that save you that night gave you life, but also death. They make the sorrow real and present when it should have ended that same night with a broken board and a rapid wave.
You sigh, for third time this hour, giving another detail to the painting, unable to declared it finished, it's the last bit that you have of him and you can't bring yourself to cut your last physical connection, even if the nightmares of that day visit you every single night of the last year.
A knock in the door brings you out of your thoughts and then you notice the paintbrush that mindlessly you have been resting against your cheek.
-Come in - You call giving a last look at the painting before turning to the door.
She walks in quietly with the aura of confidence that she has in every movement, but also with the respect of who interrupts a private moment. Curious eyes went towards the painting, and then you believe they inspect you for what can't be longer than a blink.
-We are going to moor in Trinidad in three days- It's an announcement, nothing else, but the not said fills you with dread. You are supposed to leave the ship the next time it touch land.
-Thank you, captain- The words came out empty. ¿What are you going to do then? You don't have anything to go back anymore. The feeling of despair ever present in your chest threatens to rise to your eyes but you manage to keep it leashed. You can't cry in front of this woman. It would be too embarrassing to cry in from of who gracefully saved your life just because you can't think of anything to return even in your local island.
-Thank you- You said again a little more firm this time, wanting to be alone, to cry and scream at whoever god in this world think of this as funny.
You wait. But she is still in the same place, now really inspecting you with quick and smart eyes. -I am going to need something from you when we arrived- Your eyes darted at her, too surprised for a second to remember your problems.
-¿What do you want? - The words came out of your mouth without though and you went pale. Fortunately she seems too focused on her thoughts to notice your lack of manners, or just doesn't care.
-You are the governor's daughter. I want an audience- She said with a smile that remembers you to a cat cornering a rat.
You are more fucked than you thought.
