Of Solar And Dark (2018)

1 [S]

Sebestian Knight

There are two words that everyone needs to know if they're under my father and they are yes sir.

One would think that being raised by him for a good sixteen years would make that knowledge a habit, something that's in my blood.

It isn't.

Right now, standing in the middle of a dark corridor that's part of one of our battleships, I don't think that I will be able to say the words when I meet his steady gaze later. I probably won't be able to look him straight in the eyes.

Because this ship? It's rubbish.

The lights that dot the pathway gives the interior surroundings a murky yellow glow and the occassional hiss of an engine- pained to even be alive makes me wince.

I draw my shoulders back and run my fingers along the metal walls. They feel rough and unpolished, nothing like the first rate materials the workers have been granting permission to purchase.

There's absolutely no way to sugarcoat this piece of garbage, even if I have to provide the feedback in front of the General and his men.

As I approach the exit, my lungs ache for the sweet smell of pure oxygen, for the taste of air that isn't corrupted by the sour scent of sweat of a thousand workers. The weight leaves my shoulders as I step out of the ship, feeling the cold call of the wind brush against my tilted face.

The uneasiness that strained my muscles and filtered through my veins is washed away as the moon casts its pearly white glow against my skin and the feeling of comfort spills through my blood like adrenaline.

Darkness.

It's the best thing, it's the only thing I know.

"So what do you think, son?"

I'm snapped out of my safe piece of haven as my father's cold voice penetrates the air. Reluctant, I pull my gaze towards his stoic features and feel my airsways constrict. Years of training will never be able to prepare me everytime I have to look into those steel, emotionless eyes.

As the General joins in the game of staring, I feel my face pick up colour and try to pretend that it doesn't daunt me, the way I've been taught to wear a facade.

"When you're in a war, there should be no holding back," I direct my gaze towards the general and feel a sense of regret slowly trickling down my spine, "Your workers asked for the best materials my father could give them. From what I saw, it looks like your workers are working for themselves, rather than my father."

I pause to let the words sink in and do their job- the General's face pales and I catch the slight movement of his fingers curling inwards, a sign of resisted anger.

"Are we going to war, General? Or are we playing a child's game with imaginary battleships?"

"Enough!" His voice is soaked with anger and the heat that flashes across his face- colours that speak of hatred and loathing sparks the fear that races through the length of my body.

I instinctively take a step back as the General raises his hand, ready to strike my face with those narrow fingers.

The force of his fingers, clumped together against my cheek causes a stinging sensation to flare across my skin. I draw in a sharp breath, forcing myself to the gasp of pain and in result, suffocating the words that refuse to leave my lungs.

"Richard, is this how you raised your child? To be impolite, disrespectful of your elders and have no disregard for the art of war?" The General's cries ring out in the cool air and slash the peace that resonates within the environment. Like a sharp blade, it cuts through the gentleness of the night and slashes through my head, urging a splitting headache.

I suck in a ball of air and stare numbly at the ground as my vision gradually clears up, free from the blur of tears. My father's mumbles of apology sounds like a static hiss in the background and I pretend that the men that stand around us, that have just witnessed the scene, aren't there.

There's only darkness, I tell myself.

And it's comfort.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is for National Novel Writing Month, also known as NaNoWriMo.

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Word Count: 714

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