I’m already reaching on the themes here, folks.
Today is a good day. I’m feeling better, finally, like I fit in my own skin again. It’s been a tough year, so far — a confusing, anxiety-ridden mess that’s done a bit of a number on my sense of self. My instinct has been to withdraw and hide from the world for a while — but I worked so hard not to do that through the anxious, messy stuff, and although it didn’t work out for me (it was never going to work out for me), I have to trust that I learned something, and that pushing myself got me somewhere.
So here I am.
Welcome back, me. I missed you.
This is from a thing about pirates. Pirates! It’s something I started as a playtime break from my Serious Novel when that one wasn’t going well — kicked off by this single mental image — that then took on a life of its own. It’s all very rough and kind of silly, but there’s something really cool buried within it that I still want to explore. When I find the time…
Sailor’s father was missing his right eye. Sometimes, when Sailor was very small, he’d let her put things in the puckered hole of it — spyglass lenses or shiny marbles or, once, a comically-shaped carrot. He told a different story every time anyone asked how he’d lost it. “I pulled it out myself, on a dare,” he’d say, his single remaining eye twinkling above his braided beard. “Lucky the dwarf who challenged me passed out… you don’t want to know what I was going to do next.”
Or: “I walked into a door. Drunk. Stopped me seeing double, I’ll tell you that.”
In the markets of Pirate Island, Sailor heard rumours that his missing eye was mounted on top of their crow’s nest, where it spied for enemies while Patch slept in his hammock, the bells in his beard jingling in time to the swell of the ocean. If it was, neither she nor Folly — when she could convince the big ginger cat to look for it — could ever find it.