Mitchell's Mustard Blog

December 30, 2013

The Next Flight, Maybe?

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 12:28 pm

He watched as all the destinations worked through the board, from right to left. The hustle and bustle surrounding him, everybody in a rush, impatient bodies with bags on tow. People looking to all for directions, everyone confused as the next. The zigzagging of feet and wheels, squeaking from the polished floor. The noise was overwhelming at times, most of the time. He took a seat for a couple of minutes, feeling slightly disorientated, if he took a moment and closed his eyes, maybe it would be silent. Just for a moment. The constant flow of chatter, he always thought would sit hand in hand with an his old untuned television. The noise for the vision. A tannoy blared above which pulled him back to the surface, apparently the check in desk had opened for Alicante. As the tannoy piped up, people stopped, looked to the ceiling, for the answers. People rushed, pulling their belongs behind them, to be first in the queue was all that mattered, the gold at the end of the airport rainbow. He didn’t move, he sat and thought about the sun licking his body, the warm sea tickling the bottom of his feet, his sore feet. He closed his eyes again, he was strolling down a little cobbled street somewhere in Spain, hand in hand with his wife, he loved her. It was a chance to wear one of his Hawaiian short-sleeved shirts, white backing with orange flowers, blue and red exotic birds, it was his favourite but his children were always embarrassed. His flip-flops clapping applause as he strolled the streets, sun hat, prescription sun glasses and a smile. Even his wife was smiling, she only seemed to do this in his daydreams now, she had such a beautiful smile, a happily married smile.
He realised time had passed as the tannoy announced the gate number, his daydream ceased to exist as his eyes opened. Reality flooded in, people had moved on, left him behind, and not just the ones Alicante bound. As he stood, his feet longed for the sea, for the sun to take away his aches and pains. Today there was no Hawaiian shirt, no need for prescription sun glasses. Today it was like every other day, his staff uniform and a high visibility vest. No bag of belongings, but a bin bag full of the unwanted. He set off with his broom in hand, ‘this place won’t clean itself’ he thought.

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December 22, 2013

The death of a fisherman

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 4:22 pm

When the waves crashed against the side of the vessel, the boat was thrown side to side like a rag doll in a playful dogs mouth. The grey stormy sky a similar colour to the sea, the boat seemed to advance towards a future of nothingness. They all had families waiting for them to return, longing to hear the cheers of loved ones as they step onto dry land, a fond memory from each trip. Only he longed for the next outing. Spending weeks aboard and his body became used to the rocking, the unsettled sea waiting to swallow his boat in one almighty gulp. He could never explain how much he loved the sea because it would always be his worst enemy, it had beaten him black and blue, it had taken his men from him, taken the soul and life from the back of his eyes as he watched it claim victims, people he knew. Returning to tell their wives that life was now different, the expression on their faces as he became the enemy and not the sea. He had battled with his foe for many years, the creaks and groans of his boat had become his home, longing for his family but knowing he couldn’t stay on dry land for long. He couldn’t get the rush that he experienced at sea, she was his ugly mistress that could turn her mood at any moment and test the boats ability to perform, a battle with a beast that took no prisoners in a moment of weakness. He always believed he would die at sea one day, hoped he would be taken by her, they teased each other even though he knew she would win every time if given the chance. He felt he wasn’t ready just yet, she had taken so much but still had so much to give. She would rest like all other things, to build up her strength for her next attack, the calm before the storm. He watched her build, watched her huff and puff around them. He found beauty in her anger, this seemed to provoke her strength in some way.
Pain surged through his chest as he collapsed, If only he knew that his wild mistress wouldn’t claim him after all, would he have returned? Taken his last step onto dry land, to leave her crashing at his back, tempting him to return. To think that it would be his own heart that would fail. As he crashed to the kitchen floor his first thought were of his family, but to them he had become a stranger. He longed to feel the sea around him, drag him under and pull him into her, to feel her anger around him. Take him under her ice cold wing to numb him from the pain, they had toyed with each other for so many years, it didn’t seem right to die without her. He missed her whistling in his ear, baiting him to make a mistake. He wanted to be taken by her, she deserved to win this battle, but it was not gods will.

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