The Moon, a Golden Doubloon Buried In the Midnight Sky

The moon, a golden doubloon buried in the midnight sky, amongst a billion diamond speckles, shimmers in the warm summer night’s air, as it slowly climbs to its zenith. The lake reflects the scene back a thousands times on a thousand different ripples as oars silently part the dark waters leaving star trails in their wake. In the small boat a girl lies on the bottom, her long dark tresses hidden beneath a dark woolen cloak. Her sparkling green eyes squeezed closed tight. Her full lips hold no emotion in them only lay still, betraying nothing. Her delicate hands clasped behind her back bound there by a coarse rope which winds its way around her small soft breasts and makes its way down to her bare tender feet, trussing her up as neatly as a pig on its way to market. Yet there is no fear in her eyes. No tears running down her smooth pale cheeks. No breath quickening in her chest. Yet when she opens her bright green eyes, out emits what can only be called faith and hope, like sunbeams through holes in the clouds, as if she knows someone is waiting for her just on the other side of this moment, waiting to rescue her from a peril she knows not what. Yet no one does. She is now laying on a cold gray beach. The girl turns away. Not caring about the pain that tears through her hands and feet. Tears run down her cheeks in torrents. Her body convulses silently. And there in the first of the morning light, lying on the pale white sand, she fills utterly alone for the first time in her life. And as the waves crash on the shore, the suns rays burst forth filling the world, she lets herself go. Her hair is plastered to her face, she doesn’t notice. Someone has undone her bound legs. She didn’t even feel it. Slowly a strong calloused hand pulls her to her feet. She lets it. Empty now she lets them gently push her along a narrow trail that leads farther away from the place that use to be her home. She sags to the ground. Let them kill her. She would welcome it. She would beg for it if she could only find her voice, but she lost that when she lost her heart. Her heart, somewhere back on the sands, at the edge of the lake. Somewhere where the waves are crashing down on top of it, crushing it, slowly dragging it out to a dark watery grave, where it wont have to bare the light of day again, where it can dwell in the darkness that it so desperately wants to consume it.