Prokhor Ozornin - On the Wings of Hope - Prose

And then once again - oblivion. And again - a storm. Oblivion. Storm. Oblivion. Storm.

And then he regained consciousness once more - and there was no cable in his hands any longer. He was being carried by waves among heaps of boards - by some sort of miracle he was still alive. He collected last bits of forces and grasped a wide thick tree log - possibly, remains of a mast of their former ship, - there were no more doubts that their ship has been destroyed. He pulled this piece of wood and clasped t, trying to hold.

And once again comes the oblivion …

* * *

When he opened his eyes once again, the storm has already extinguished - the sun was shining and its rays were jumping and playing in water. He was being carried on azure waters of this sea together with a piece of former mast, and once again he could count only on himself - and own force of spirit.

And thus he was keeping. Gathering the last bits of remaining forces. Knowing that he has practically no hope for survival. And nevertheless he was keeping. And waves were throwing a pity ship’s piece together with a man, who has seized it …

And when a vessel appeared on the horizon, he had no more strength even to rejoice - or to send a signal. But he was noticed - and a ship slowly and smoothly approached a small branch of tree together with seizing it in a death grip unmoving person.

For now he could barely remember these moments. It seems that after he has been dragged aboard and men have started reviving him, they tried to ask him of something. However, everything he was able to tell his saviors were some muffled lows of disobeying lips.

Then he was placed into some cabin and has been sleeping for long-long. From time to time he woke up from nightmares and couldn’t come to his senses for quite a while … But he finally regained common sense after a month of this sailing on this trading vessel, as he has learned afterwards from its captain.

A month was necessary for him to prove that he is worthy of living - and several more years to prove that he is worthy of a better life - so that a fork of his way and its consequences have become visible at last.

He has stayed for a month on a ship that has picked him up - in thirty miles from a destroyed vessel. As he has learned later when he could be roused after two weeks, the captain of the ship that have rescued him, - after he has become a witness of the tragedy which have comprehended his former ship, - has given an order to search the area for survivors. But there was no one live found in five miles radius from the wreckage. The captain of the rescue ship couldn’t tell if there was anyone else who have survived the storm - anyway they couldn’t find any.

Yet he survived - by some sort of miracle. As the captain of the rescue vessel told him, they have already lost hope to find any survivors and have started sailing further, and almost the moment after they have stumbled upon him - lying on a piece of a tree which he didn’t want to part with when they were trying to lift him up and drag on a ship’s deck. They have tried to find out what has happened to him and whether he has been one of survivors from a vessel, witnesses of which destruction they have recently become - yet he was so emaciated and thick, that they could achieve nothing from him. Then he was put in a cabin and was treated the best way they could do it. Two weeks from that month during which they have been sailing to a seaport, he has lain in bed. Ate very little, slept a lot. At times he rose in cold sweat from bed, shouting something that he would have the power to pass through it and survive, that he must do that, that he is free and his own way would soon completely reveal before him. They didn’t listen to that attentively - considered it all a delirium.

For two weeks he has been struggling for living. No, for two weeks and three days. The rescue vessel has passed a tragedy spot only three days after a storm - and only after three days after mentioned events has picked him up in the sea. A sea, which was already quiet and solar by that time …

For two more weeks he has been sailing together with them on their course - when his new life has started, the one which had no chances for upcoming if he has surrendered before. If he has ceased to struggle, has despaired. He hasn’t despaired. Hasn’t surrendered. He was battling - and has won to start a new life - premonition of which didn’t leave him before.

* * *

- James, tell the captain of the “Guard” to set course for Plymouth. We are coming back home.

- Aye, it shall be done, captain!

- Wheel to the right! Trim the sails to the wind!

- Let’s turn, let’s turn! We are heading for Plymouth!

Shouts were carried downwind. Sailors curried about on the ship.

He was looking forward - on today’s peaceful sea surface, flying seagulls. It’s time for squadron to return home - battle has been won, and home is calling. They will repair ships and replenish provisions and will be on the way once again, - free like a wind sea wanderers. He and his crew - devoted and trusting him, their admiral.

Yes, they will return to a harbor. But at first they will sail to a different city - the one where he has grown and haven’t been for such a long time … long seven years …

Returning home … He will see his father, a common tailor, once again, after these five years - the father who have told him such important words in that memorable day of trials. If a man trusts himself, he can achieve much …

Yes, these words were sustaining him. They were holding him when he was sinking in a storm. They were keeping him when he, already being a captain of own ship, - has been fighting in seas. These words have kept him. And they are keeping him now - after these long seven years.

They are keeping him. The one, who does not surrender.

15.03.2012

- So do you insist that the feeling of sincere patriotism in relation to the native land is not only negative, but is also fatal, harmful trait of the human person ?

- Your so-called “patriotism” is your curse. These are your chains – threads, through which you are very convenient to be operated by someone another. Because of this “feeling of sincere patriotism” wars have been waged on the Earth and some of them are still going on, because of it you sacrifice things, much more important … much greater, than the goals of your politicians. It’s not even patriotism, it’s plain and total blindness. People keep dying and you sing in joy – for it promotes achievements of the aims of your state, most certainly great and all, and all, and all.

Are these truly your purposes ? Do you really want to slaughter each other ? Maybe those ones, whom you innocently kill, want it to ? Whose goals are these ? Yours ? Or injected into your consciences’s by the political top, injected very skillfully, by the way … even sweetened a bit for greater persuasiveness ? You have already faced terrorism in own lives and have come through it. But when you are ready for either natural resources or land territories to wage terrorism in a much greater scale for “peaceful” purposes, as you are trying to believe, - is it not even greater and obvious crime against the humanity ? And what is most stunning – is that you do not consider such actions as any crime, for it’s the goodness of your own country, your nation … and you as a part of it.

You have been transformed into puppets in hands of your politicians, you became their ideological slaves. You even cannot say “no” when it’s truly needed, when the time demands it – and that’s the problem. You are being sent on a slaughter – and you willingly go on a slaughter. You are being sent into a battle for a next piece of resources – and you are ready to die for the glory of your motherland … ready to die for nothing.