The Mad Treasure and The Stowaway (PIRATE SERIES)

➤Prologue

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PROLOGUE

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          The sound of the sea had always been summer to me. A season in which I long for days. The waves that elegantly flow through the breeze, the cold wind caresses me. The warmth however touches me, embracing my whole being as if it recognizes me . 

I, however, couldn't recognize its welcoming, only in my eyes is a massive water that stretches my attention and desire to the horizon. The feeling of unusuality ever since, yet a vague familiarity in the moment. But I continued to long for it like an endless summer. 

Wanting nothing but to feel the freedom that offers me; I want to feel it against my skin and into my soul.

The sea in which I had fallen in love into, the emerald green and blue colors that took familiarity in my vision. The smell of the salty water and the unending waves of sounds whenever it kisses the sand along the coast. 

Fascinating and inviting, I longed for it.

They say those who sail the sea could rule the world, and those who venture the storms are the most free among anyone else. Those who live by the waters, made friends with its waves, took home along its shore, rendered the true freedom in the grasp of the ocean's child. 

Words of warning and endless stories that somehow gives the mystical body of water more depths to be discovered, and the most free person can only acquire such ventures. Treacherous sailing, dangerous and full of mystery is an allure that comes with the price of liberation the sea had been giving. 

Something I could never afford. 

But for me, the one who can hear their names in the waves, the one who can touch and dance with the sea; for myself who longed for the warmth and embrace of the beautiful mass of waters, that is what freedom is.

I long for freedom.

And to the sea is where I saw the gates that opened the path of where I desire to be. Despite the raging cautious words that evict my effort in pursuing the waters, I continued to long for it. Because for me, the sea has always been summer, a beautiful moment that everyone wants to be. Yet summer could never visit me, as much as I tried to visit it.

In my memories, I desperately run towards the waves, fingertips hopelessly wanting to grasp the freedom that is always taken without my touch. The people who always stop me, the voices that scolded me, the warnings that tried to scare me, it never stopped me from going and wanting to see the vast ocean. The boy who stood next to me, asking me what is the essence of the thing that I longed for, wanting to understand my obsession. In my memories, always have been, the sea is out of my reach. 

In the needless repetitive walks away from the blue waters, I hear the song of the sirens against the waves traveling through the breeze wanting to reach me. It sounded everything that the world could offer me, it sounded like summer but my walks had become the beginning of winter. In my memories, I no longer long for freedom as simple as wanting to touch the ocean that I was not allowed to be with. To be free and sail the ocean, to be free in the wide stretch of vast adventures that carries people to their destiny. 

In my memories, freedom is no longer as simple as wanting to run from the grasp of my controlling figures that surrounds me. Freedom is no longer longing for the sea against my fingertips.

I no longer want to be in the sea, 

I want to be the sea.

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