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stonefly
October 18th, 2010, 04:15 PM
How did it come to this?... He surfed his thoughts like his craft rode the crest of mankind's ingenuity. It was the best of the best, the forefront, and the water flew below. Strange, he mused, that there was no other word. Water flew beneath his bare feet, balanced as they were on the framework of the craft. Water could have been ice. He could have been flying across ice, but the water was not in its solid state, and he was sailing the platform. What a mundane appellation for the craft...but it was appropriate.

Platform was right. It was thin composite across titanium frame. Above stood knives of sails, taught, tuned, singing, and the multiple hulls hung on the windward with no less insolence then they skated and skimmed the downwind where they made their deal with the water, not just a good deal...a steal.

Only weeks before, he had driven across the state of Maine. At Long Lake a beach played at the water's edge. The women, one of whom was in her best years, after the world had held her a while, and the other, who could have been her daughter, sat back in their recliners facing the cold lake.

They had talked for a while before he took his leave, and they made an unspoken trade. They were beautiful, and he left them a trace of true romance. He pointed toward the sailboats moored against the backdrop of the low hill, and made comment of their furled sails.

He belonged to the wind, and to the water, its partner in their deal with him, but the women would never forget him, nor he them.

Neither would he forget what he was.

Men flew in machines, but they could not command the air, only hammer upon it mercilessly. Birds were one with the air, as men had became one with their machines. Yet with the sail, men did what no other creature could mimic.

The nontraditional platform was the peak. The traditional heavy hull, however cunning, plied the water. The platform sought to depart the water.

The wind, the water, and the platform had carried him to the edge. He would negotiate the edge, keeping to the path, forever wondering...what's next?

garza
October 18th, 2010, 05:40 PM
You have taken me where I've never been. As a kid I had a round bottomed, heavy, wooden hulled, centre board boat 12 feet long with a four-foot beam and a dippy-doo kind of clumsy dance. She never flew. She kind of shuffled along, dragging her feet, wallowing like a pregnant cow if I came anywhere near the wind. I sincerely suspect you have had the pleasure of sailing such boats. But she was mine and I was proud of her. Summer after Summer she and I traveled the world - at least that part of the world between Pass Christian and Biloxi. I've sailed other boats since then, bigger boats, faster boats, better boats, but none gave me the thrill I felt the first day I was able to get her head up three points off the wind without turning over.

If I were 60 years younger I would want to try the kind of craft you have. I'm not, so I'll settle for the vicarious pleasure you provide with your words.

You might want to clean up the first sentence or two. I had to read the entire first paragraph before I got the picture. But that might just be me. As I have pointed out before, my brain is an older model and technical support is no longer provided.

Let us see some more of your writing.

stonefly
October 18th, 2010, 06:27 PM
Thanks, garza,

I've made a few edits already and I'll keep making more. I'll take a better look at the first paragraph. I always reread my own stuff many times in the effort of trimming it up.

Only in my dreams have I sailed the kind of craft depicted in the story. I have a lot experience with sailboats, all the slow kind, but all great vessels in their own ways.

I'm glad you liked my story so much. It's reassurance that writing can take us places we've never been.

garza
October 18th, 2010, 09:50 PM
Then you probably know the kind of boat I had.

Don't change too much in your story. You'll spoil the effect.

The Backward OX
October 18th, 2010, 11:27 PM
Are we talking a trimaran here? Whatever, it’s a terrific story.

I will however take issue with you over the matter of flying machines. I am absolutely positive that a pilot with the same feel for his craft that you exhibit for yours could extol the virtues of flying in equal terms. It just seems a little unfair you draw the type of parallel you do.

Your final paragraph for some reason put me in mind of Columbus. “Beyond this place there be dragons.”

Keep up the good work.

stonefly
October 19th, 2010, 01:49 AM
Are we talking a trimaran here? Whatever, it’s a terrific story.

I will however take issue with you over the matter of flying machines. I am absolutely positive that a pilot with the same feel for his craft that you exhibit for yours could extol the virtues of flying in equal terms. It just seems a little unfair you draw the type of parallel you do.


Thanks,

Truth is, I don't know if there exists a craft of the type I tried to depict. I just kinda made it up.

...not knocking pilots... I just have great admiration for our little feathered friends.

I wish I had the trimaran from "Waterworld."


Your final paragraph for some reason put me in mind of Columbus. “Beyond this place there be dragons.”

Keep up the good work.