Day 12 / 30 - “Travel”

Day 12 / 30 - “Travel”

A quick interlude… I’m excited to share that as of yesterday’s post, I’ve actually reached the goal of 15,000 words for this month! It’s always great to hit a milestone, even though I knew I was purposefully setting this one low… Because the thing is, the story isn’t nearly finished, so now the new goal is - to try and discover the rest of this story in a sufficient enough way to write “The End” to it at the end of July (and not leave you all hanging with an incomplete plotline). Thanks for following along on this journey so far!

Also, a reminder - if you’re new to this blog / page, you’re in the right place but at the wrong page… Let me help you by pointing you to these two links:

Now on to today’s instalment… Happy reading! :)

When Tristan came to, night had fallen. He felt the gentle sway of the ship beneath him, saw blurred lantern lights above and a blood red moon hovering a third of the way towards the horizon, casting an eerie light over the darkish red landscape. He groaned, pressing his hand towards his forehead. His other hand pushed himself into a sitting position, the hardness of the wooden deck beneath him a comfort. 

“We figured you’d be happier here than waking up below in your bunk,” Alan, his first mate, leaned forward and offered Tristan a hand up. 

His head still swaying, Tristan accepted his help, gripping the mast beside him as Alan steadied him on his other side. 

“What happened?” Tristan asked, flashes of memory coming back to him but not clear enough to make sense of yet. 

Alan shrugged. “Simone just disappeared. The one moment she was still there, walking over towards one of those dunes beyond the lighthouse, and the next she was gone.”

“Gone:? That’s not possible. She has to be there— I must go find her!”

Tristan had already taken a step forward when Alan’s hand gripped his arm again, this time with a grip as strong as the ship’s anchor. “The men are already uneasy, Captain. If you abandon us too…” Alan shook his head, the unsaid words hanging between them. Just his use of the title “Captain” already told Tristan a lot about how serious his first mate was about keeping him on the ship — he usually addressed Tristan as everything but his true title 

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Tristan met Alan’s gaze. “I promise I won’t do anything rash. But if she fails, or is hurt… Then the men can feel uneasy all they want, this will be the last place they ever see.” 

Alan left his grip on Tristan’s arm a moment longer before letting go, his shoulders sagging as he leaned against the railing. He was quiet for a long time, gazing out at the Fiery Isles. Tristan stepped up next to him, letting the silence settle between them. 

“The men are upset, Tristan. They think you lied to them, deceived them, that we travelled here under false pretences—“

“I did no such—“ Tristan broke off, forcing himself to lower his voice. He clenched his fists, searching for calm, for the wisdom his father always preached so much about as a ‘natural part of leadership’. “We were all deceived, Alan. Even me. Nothing — none of the legends, nothing — could truly have prepared us for this.” Tristan shrugged. “You know our island’s code — there’s no point in dwelling in the past. Let it be washed to the ocean and get on with what’s here and now.” Tristan grimaced — how come that sounded so much better when his father said it? Before he had left on this forsaken voyage, he had been sure he would be ready to fill his father’s shoes as mayor of the island once he returned but now… Tristan shook his head. 

Not so clever now, are you

Nothing to be done about it now, Tristan shot back at his inner critic. I’m all Simone’s got. If I can’t find her—

“Gather the men, all of them. Yes, wake them,” Tristan barked, anticipating Alan’s questions. “There’s no point in me going alone anyway. It’s time we figured out a better plan to beat this island and get on with the business of getting back home.”

 

Word count: 579 (running total - 16,057)

Painting / Writing debrief:

Today’s painting time was spent with playful mark-making to explore colour combinations and adding in some mixed media with dark brown permanent ink. Although I wasn’t intentionally working towards the prompt “travel” at the time, this specific painting made me think of the view from Tristan’s homeland, the island of Layna, before he set foot on his ship and sailed to the Fiery Isles. I especially love that bit of blue sticking out, which made me think of the oceans in the distance. 

Colours used: Daniel Smith Permanent orange, ultramarine turquoise (yip, only two colours! They mix to make the most beautiful green), Rohrer & Klingel Document Brown ink.

 

I also spent some time first journalling (aka “Brain dumping”) some ideas of where to spend my writing focus next… There’s an adage called “Being week two’d” in the Nanowrimo (National Novel Write Month) / Camp Nano circles and I’ll admit that it hits me every time… I’d start off well, relishing that process of story discovery and all the words just flowing out until, suddenly, one day the writing just feels… Hard. And then to realise - ah, it’s week 2… I then use a combination of giving myself space (easing up on the idea that everything has to be chronological as I write it, or to avoid too much “brain dumping” in journal mode, as I call it), while also pushing through with the bare minimum of what I’ve set… And inevitably, week 3 will come around and, hopefully, so will the momentum! But in the meantime, I’m still surprised at what I discover about the story, despite how difficult it might be to get myself to sit down and write in the first place. 

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