Edmond Paul

chapter I

Chapter I

Life forces one to answer the questions it asks. Whether the answers one has given are congratulated or regretted, the bearers of these answers are forever haunted of what they spoke of, yet this books confined pages tell of only my answers.

So we begin on the Cècil, a ship of my fathers. I rest upon the hammock, swinging back and forth as the ship rocks us. The footsteps from above echo through, and create a dull sound bouncing off of soiled and wet wood. I hear my father shouting obscenities at the crew, for not completing a required task. I arose from my hammock, grabbed the rail, for fear of losing my balance, and climbed the flight of wooden stairs and entered the quarters where my father was located.      
      "Father?" I asked poking my head ever so slightly out the door. "When are we returning to port? I am very sick of the conditions we have been placed under." I stated dully, for it had been raining for as long as I could remember.

"Edmond, my son, do not worry yourself... we are returning to port very soon I assure you." I faked a grin, and shut the door, once again hearing the obscenities fly at the undeserving crew. But what do I know. For all they care, I am just a child. Nothing more, nothing less.                                                                        BI once again climbed the flight of stairs leading to my quarters, and opened the door. The sight of my hammock had never been so appealing to me. A thought of relief passed through my mind as I laid my back against the cloth. The ships crackling wood, crashing waves, pelting rain and dripping water was something I had gotten used to. After all, months on a ship was not every man's dream, but it was a factor I had to resolve. The boat rocked me side to side, lulling me to sleep. We were assail for god knows how long, and all I know, it was too long.

Surprisingly, the obscenities halted their assault on the crew aboard the Cècil, and footsteps echoed in a scattered rhythm. Each of the members singing a song of the journeys they have embarked on, and what lies ahead in their lives. The rain pelted the members as they stepped outside the cabin of the ship. Brief seconds of silence came and went, yet the rain pestered on, and I could not sleep. Only moments later did I hear footsteps through the cabins halls. Then a knock on my door followed. "Enter." I stated aloud. From the entrance stood a slender man, whose height surpassed any I've ever seen. Freckles littered his face, like pointillism, and his brown hair was damp form the coming rain.                                "I do not believe I have seen, nor met you." I was intrigued by this fellow. "Please," I said, signaling to the chair that sat across from me. "Sit down." He nodded, and took the offered seat. "So who are you?" I asked, head cocked. "The man stood, and bowed. "My Name is Abel. Abel Couture." He returned to his seat. "It's a pleasure to meet you."                                                                                               The man was very intriguing. He spoke with a thick French accent, but another was embedded within, yet it was hard to distinguish. His apparel was quite interesting as well. It appeared he was not a descendant of a rather wealthy family, but it looked as if someone were to have given him these white, pristine clothes, and forgot about his tattered, almost disgusting shoes.

"So let me break the ice," He said. "How have you fared on this venturous voyage?" in all honesty, I would have rather been ashore, with mother, and my beloved sister Cecil. However, father had the utmost tendency to leave at seconds notice and not return until later that night, drenched in the scent of tobacco and alcohol, so any sober time with father is a time to behold. I then faked a smile, and replied, "It has certainly been a trip, I must say."                                                             We went on about our lives, passing the time aboard a ship is hard to come by, so this was a very interesting change of pace. Eventually, the air became stale of overused conversation, and we both fell silent. I thought it to be fit to go ahead and clear the dead air that lumped amongst us.                                                                     "So," I stated. "Where is your home?" I questioned. Abel looked from his trance, and began to talk. "Alas," he said, hand on heart. "My home is far, far away. You see, I reside in the country side of eastern Paris, a good travels away. My home isn't a sight to behold, but its holds five children, and both my parents."