I am the mastermind of plots. Do I sound arrogant? Certainty I know what I am and I swell with it because only the arrogant truly live. I set my sails down and return to deck. Captain Jimmy bellows for me to follow him to his chambers. I do not need the ambiance of his room to prophesy to me what is yet to come. The disappointment at our lack of bounty, the captain’s intermittent heaves tell of bridled dreams but I do not make allies with regret. My nose peruses the persistent reek of his garments for truly the man could not be redeemed from the unsanitary.
His little talks bore me. I am arrogant, did I fail to mention that? I am arrogant but I do not presume myself to be fate. If a man is down on his luck perhaps he should sing to the gods. Let him demand of them a better path than the one they present him. But this crooning in the ears of men is capable of wearing even the fittest of goliaths down. I let my mind ruminate on the last days of this captain. As I do so, I glance ever so periodically at the shell of a man to remind myself what I must not become. I am his closest companion but men assume such goodwill from their fellow men that he never stops to ask if he is mine. But you already know who my dearest confidante is. Yes, reader you have met him. I continue my plotting because he is who I know best. Every captain will have his day, even me.
© lois
@yourpenship