Sunsets on the Far Side of the World Part II

Sunsets on the Far Side of the World Part II

By: Matt Carroll

 

The lighthouse stood against the probability of time. The storm crashed against it. This was a different type of lighthouse. It stood tall and its lantern lit the sea. Waves crashed against it. The only way to reach it was by sea.

            Solitaire was a lonely game. The deck was old and was withering away with time. Some of the edges of the cards were cracked or missing. It was the same deck he always played with.

            The constant to and fro of the sea kept him awake when he first came to duty. Now the old man wouldn’t know what to do without it. Every day he woke up to sound and when he walked downstairs he opened the front door to see the entire ocean at his feet. Today was no different. The porch was small, or was it a pier? And like always there was a basket for his daily food. He never question why it was there or how it got there, but whoever placed it knew his tastes.

            His beard was down to his chest. It curled and twisted past his chin, down to his shoulders, and landed on his chest.

            He set the basket on the table.

            The windows shook and rattled. The ocean spray sounded against the side of the house. It felt like the whole damn place was buoyed—bobbing up and down, up and down!

            A letter came through the slot in the door. He occasionally got mail. He didn’t question how or why.

            The letter was no different from any ordinary letter. There was a stamp, postmarked, and the envelope was of ordinary size. The keeper of the lighthouse opened it and read:

            One day you will kindly be replaced. Until then enjoy the beauty of the sea and prepare for your retirement.

            The keeper scratched his head and brushed his hand through his beard. It was all strange circumstances, but he never complained. In fact he couldn’t remember if he could speak anymore.

 

            The shaking of the carriage woke me as the sun peaked through the curtains. They knew me simply as Edmond, or Mr. Edmond as my assistant, Richard, liked to call me, but I designed things like this. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was, or where I was from. They knew I was special, but to save face they insisted I was the greatest magician known to man. The greatest illusionist. My premise was successful.

            The girl fell asleep on me and her head rested on my shoulder. I kindly returned her head to the other side where there was a soft cushioning on the carriage. I overpaid Richard to stay with me because he was intelligent, asked few questions, and was secretive about me almost to the point of overprotection. Rarely did I have a real need for excessive amounts of money, but I had it and gave it away freely wherever I went. I was usually the one to pick up the tab, quietly of course, when at the pub.

            The carriage came to a sudden stop.

            “Sir!” The driver called to me. “I believe we have a problem.”

            I rolled to my side and opened the door to a spring afternoon that reminded me of so many years ago when I looked down and saw tulips growing freely on the side of the road. My heart was still in pieces.

 

            Being the son of a retired sea merchant left me interested in the vast abyss of blue my father always spoke about, but never took me to gaze upon. I started exploring at a young age first at the edge of our farm near the creek bed until I discovered the outskirts of our small town. Once I turned every stone in our small village I wanted more. I wanted to see the cities I read about in the papers. I wanted the world, but it’s peculiar how love can change ambition.

            Her name was Patricia and she lived near one of the few stones I failed to uncover in our small town.

            The first time I saw her was a moment marked in the timeline of my life that should be the boldest because it was an ever-changing event. Her long blonde hair reminded me of the grain that swayed to the summer breeze, her blue eyes the color of the same ocean I read about in the literature that sat on the book cases in my house, her touch tender like a doe with her fawn, and her smile was like the distance between the ground I stood on and the moon.

            “Hello.” I called to her some years ago. The memory now muffled in the sands of time.

            She smiled at me.

 

            I stepped out onto the dirt road and looked up at the driver who was washed in the peach rays of the morning.

            “What’s the problem?”

            “Sir Edmond. I dozed off during the night because I was sure the horses understood the path to take, but something enchanted has occurred. Never, in all my years, have they strayed from the main road, and never have they turned around in the opposite direction.” The driver was panicked and took a rag from his pocket because he was drenched with sweat.

            “It can’t be that bad.” I assured him. “You know I trust you, so tell me what the tragic news is before the suspense gets the best of me.”

            “Sir, we are in Utah.”

            The Mormons were a different bunch. I understand world religions. My profession has made me tolerant and my magic had created a bond with the natural world that makes me understand that we are all of the same material. Bones are bones and blood is blood in this world.

            “Then something is wrong and it’s best to let the horses play out the course that the wind has set them on.” I explained to the driver and closed the door behind me in the carriage as we went about this strange land.  

 

            The horse tore through the night as the branches hit against the limp rider. The black horse’s silhouette was camouflaged against the night. The horse jumped over the fence, the rider still clinging onto the saddle, as it went through the brush nearly missing tree trunks. The path was gone, but the horse decided to head to the direction of the moon because that’s what always made it feel safest.

            The rider was able to weakly turn their head to where the horse had jumped the fence. Through the blanketed forest, the pine trees blocking his vision, the rider saw dark green lights. The rider reached into the pocket of the side sack and pulled a fading yellow piece of parchment. With blood on the rider’s hand the letter was stained and the jockey passed out in the saddle as horse tore through the night.

 

            I think marriage is an unnatural state. Humans were not meant to be monogamous. In the end I believe someone gets hurt. It’s too hard to find one perfect person for yourself, although I do not discount it, but to have eight wives was absurd to me.

            He was a balding man who sat at the head of the table and it was quiet, too quiet, like the calm of the river in the freezing winter. To have eight grown women, eighteen children, and four guests at one single long table in complete silence was deviant. The sound of thirty one spoons clanging against the bottom of the bowl was as regular as the sound of thirty one foxes attacking a flock of chickens.

 

I watched the ship become engulfed from keel to crow’s nest.

            Captain is a title, but on this ship it’s my name. My eyes scanned the water. The deep abyss was blanketed in black clouds that made a man uneasy. They tried to take out our rudder by surprising us in the early hours of the morning. In this fog it was easy to sneak up on a ship and somehow they managed to fire one shot at our rear, but instead of hitting our rudder the cannon ball came in high and landed in the captain’s cabin waking me. They say it’s bad luck to fire at the captain’s cabin first and I agree with whoever said that because we got a gust of wind in our favor and my men tilted the foremast so we could manage a full turn in the opposite direction. I ordered all lights to be extinguished and all men silent.

            The Dim Star. That was the name underneath the figurehead of an angel with missing arms and a halo that wasn’t perfectly round.

            The mainland was something I missed, but something I wanted to stay away from forever. A woman can do that to a man.

            “Captain, the cannons are ready for your call.” My first mate whispered in my ear. I sufficed with a simple nod ready to make the call once the time was right. I heard the gentle sliding of metal on metal as the gun ports were opened.

            The water was choppy and it sent the beak up and down. The fog was thick, but I knew the difference between the illusion of darkness the fog gave and the mass of a ship in the fog. These waters, the open sea, were my home and when I come back to this world after my trip to the beyond I hope I comeback as a man, or a creature, that depends on the ocean.

            They were broadside; starboard. I could sense them.

            I missed the pale moon and how it hung in the sky. Sometimes I mistook the horizon and sky for the ocean as if my world was upside down. Somehow, when that happened I knew I was meant for this world of deep blue.

            The waves were fighting the ship now. My men were uneasy, but they were professionals of the trade. They would rather have the sea take them before the men on the other ship. Their bow came into my dim view.

            “Fire!” I broke the silence and seconds later I felt and heard the firing of my cannons as it lit up the foggy night and reflected back on us. I felt the ship rumble as the men below the deck reloaded.

            I heard their captain scream.

            “Fire!”

            Their cannon balls tore through the thick night sky. I watched and the world slowed down for me. Eight cannon balls soared and I watched them. One tore through the main sail ripping it near the base, five penetrated the hull, and two landed on the deck starboard side killing my first mate. His blood stained the deck, but the waves were crashing over and his blood was washed, salty foam formed on the deck, and it was tinted a red color.

            “Ready Captain. . .”

            ‘Fire!” I screamed before the third in command could even finish. The cannons fell straight on their main mast. I watched as it fell from the heavens onto their ship. Lightning struck all around us. The wind ripped through our sails. Both ships were paralyzed. My men screamed with joy. We won the battle.

            In the distance I could hear silence over my men’s cheers.

I stood at the forecastle knowing this would be my last moment standing on The Dim Star. I watched the ship become engulfed from keel to crow’s nest.

            My men were washed out to sea. I watched The Dim Star’s last breath as it turned over with the quarterdeck the last part to be swallowed. 

            The waves tossed and turned me. I was freezing. Unfortunately I knew most of my men couldn’t swim. It’s amazing how long a man can stay above the surface of the water and never really learn to appreciate it. I could swim and the waves hit my face. I shivered, but I continued to stay afloat. I thought about the girl I left ashore. Her name was Ashley.

            I wish I could see the moon so I could get lost in my own perspective. Was I drowning in the water or in the sky? Ashley was somewhere out in the world and for some reason that comforted me.

            I started to fall deeper into the icy cold water. I tried to swim. I felt the waves bob me up and down like one of those old buoys in the harbor back home. The water filled my mouth. I tried to fight it.

            It went dark.

            A giant wave washed me back to the surface. I opened my eyes inhaling the cold night fog. I saw a glimpse of a lighthouse close by. It was strange to see such a thing in the middle of the sea with no land. I was washed onto the deck of the lighthouse.

            The Keeper opened the door.

            “Who are you?” He screamed at me as I lay face down on his doorstep.

Yes, he could still speak.