As promised in the 16 Week Writing Challenge, I will be putting up samples of work I did from the preceding week.
From my memoir in progress, Down Ladder: A Submariner’s Tale.
I walked down to the NEX and got some notecards and pens (and cigarettes, of course.) On my way back to the barracks, I stopped at a little used smoke pit behind a building. I chain-smoked three of four cigs, totally lost in revelry. Thinking. I never had any time to simply think, or plan, or just absorb anymore. I looked up at the cold New England Sun overhead, letting the blustery coast winds breeze up on my cheeks. I listened to the sound of my inhaling and exhaling chest, the rhythm of my lungs. Smoke bowled out from my lips, rolling up like grey thunderclouds over the plains. Seabirds traped by overhead. I was beginning to enjoy their constant company. Occasionally a few would land nearby and peck at the grass or sidewalk. Whenever one got a morsel the others would snap at its beak, engaged in some form of concrete cabotage between one another. They’d croon for a second, then lit off to places high above and beyond my reach. I heard groups of sailors walking by in the distance, generally amused and happy. When the wind shifted just right, I could smell the brackish waters of the Thames down the hill from me. They let me know they were waiting. “Follow me” they called, the ocean, the continents unknown, the entire planet laying beyond its banks. It was all there, and I needed to see. All.