Girl and the Ship

She stands at the edge, looking out to the far horizon, so flat, so calm. Her bare feet are baptised by the gentle waves, lapping against the sandy shore. "Shh" they tell her as their white foam caresses and comforts, quieting the constant humming of her mind. Here she is allowed to be herself.

She walks into the water, it's coolness grasping her legs, her hips, her navel, and the way it moves around her makes her feel like she is rocking. Her hands, too tightly grasping the beautifully crafted little ship, dip into the water, steadying the ship against the current. It precariously balances on the peaks and the troughs, holding its own against the water which overwhelms it. She closes her eyes, scrunching the lids together as hard as she can, then slowly, reluctantly, she feels the wooden boat slip from her grip as her fingers unfurl from its sides.

For a moment, she stands there still, eyes shut against the sea, and the horizon and the azure sky. With that ship she sends her prayers, her hopes of escape. With the water swirling around her, she almost feels as though she is upon that ship, swaying as the waves rock it from side to side, and it rolls over one wave onto another.

Opening her eyes, she observes it for a moment. It has drifted from her. Again she prays that her salvation will come with the liberation of that little wooden boat. Then she turns, walks out of the water, up the sand and into the life she wanted to leave, never once looking back. She left her heart on that ship.

She doesn't see that moments later it washes up on the shore, its few minutes of sailing glory over. That poor girl; when will she realise that it was all just an illusion?