On The Ship Of Tarshish

Him and i are like beauty and the beast, but... i'm looking for someone to save me.

His wings stroke in the wind. I stand on his feet and in-between his arms, through the sunset and into the the dawn. Below us i see Romeo & Juliet, in the city of Mantua, and i can't help but to think, that, even they are better off than me.

The sun appears like an explosion as we fly over the Mediterranean. More than at any other moment i wonder who this monster behind me really is. His flesh is like that of a bird, but his form is that of a human and i keep seeing the tips of his feather-full wings.

Huh, maybe earth, like heaven, has angels?

We've been flying for too long, time has changed me and healed my pain, though my doubts still remain. There's no longer words between us, nor movement. It's like we've become still life, only his wings move at the side of our shoulders.  

Lord, am i scared. I feel like i'm wrapped up in the body of a python and rendered helpless in the midst of his arms, his wings and the sky, all while not knowing what's going to happen next. There's nothing in my mind, but an idea that's constantly in motion, like a dream.  

These are the same waters Jonah went missing in for three days and three nights. And i am nobody! nobody's mother, daughter or wife, and now i don't even have a friend and there's no soul in the sky, but me and this monster behind me.

Oh brother, so much for still-life! He just moved his head, i can feel his breath bristling the hair on my neck…

Up ahead there's a ship surfing on high waves. I see his hand grab my wrist as he lowers himself to the upper deck, he throws me over the railing. As i turn i see that he’s gone and i find myself stranded on the ship of Tarshish.      

                                                            (Intermission)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..

.
.
.
.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..

I see a sailor and i ask him,
'Please, where's this ship headed?'
'Tarshish.'
I mumble his answer repeatedly...
'Spain, mam,' he clarifies.
'Where’d you come from?' he asks, 'You weren't here when we embarked!'

He grabs my arm and brings me to the captain and tells him,’
'She's either merchandise or a stow away!'

The other sailors argue,
‘She’s human, how can she be merchandise?!’
‘Is someone selling into slavery in Tarshish, or something?!’    

I can tell these men are Jewish because they’re arguing in Hebrew, apparently about what do with me.

'Wait!!!’ the captain yells.

‘First of all, beautiful lady, where do you come from?' the Captain asks me.
'France,' i answer.  
'And how did you get from France to our ship on the Medit?'
'You just wouldn't believe me!' i say.
'Well, you didn't swim, your clothes are dry and you don't smell like salt water,' he tells me, 'You know, i was once encountered by a bird, that looked like a man, as i was trading merchandise for this voyage. He wanted something very unusual. I didn't know what it was when i saw it once, but i didn't know what he was either, so i figured i was dreaming all of it. So i told him that if he wanted it from Tarshish, he would have to trade something for it that’s just as unusual. He flew away and i never saw him again. Now here you are on a trading vessel headed to Tarshish,’ he says, ‘Now i look and your brown skin looks so much like cinnamon, i can taste it. You have purple eyes and your black hair sheens like silk, and, you’re beautiful in form. Obviously you're an extremely rare genetic hybrid. Now, listen closely, this ship sails once every three years and on an unknown day at that. How could she just slip on board?! Young lady have you seen this bird man?!'
‘Yes!’
‘You are among the sailors of King Solomon and Hiram. I am not held responsible for what happens to you. This ship is under the King’s command and we’ve been ordered to not stop until we get to Tarshish, for fear that our merchandise and livestock, of apes and peacocks, gold and ivory may not be stolen.’


                                                                 (Intermission)

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

As the ship approaches Tarshish my impulse is to run as soon as i my feet touch the ground. But what if i do, and this harpie finds me again and grows angry? I hear the people of spain greeting the sailors and then they’re shown their way down to the cargo. They see me among the gold and the ect, they gasp for air and shrink in fear. Then goosebumps mount on my skin, and i hope that these bumps will protect me from the deep voice behind me that caused them to come to be.

‘I give the most beautiful woman in the world to the adonis of Spain, and he shall give me what i too desire, the spacecraft!’ the harpie says.

Turning to him i say,
‘You’re a jerk! Ya know you didn’t have to abduct me!’
‘Then why bother say, i abducted you?’ he asks, ‘Don’t worry, this adonis is a good man, he doesn’t act like an alien. Speak to him! He’s pilight and big on communication.’

The adonis approaches us and says,
‘Thank you harpie. The rocket is yours, fly away.’

As i turn back to the harpie, i notice he’s gone.

‘Beautiful lady, what is your name?’ ask the adonis.
‘Abishag.’  
‘Abishag, my name is Allen. I took the liberty of preparing a lofty life for you here, that is if you accept my proposal. But for now, let me show where you’ll be sleeping, then perhaps i can show you around Tarshish.’
‘Wait a minute, who was that harpie?’ i ask.
‘His name, was given in secrecy, at birth, no one knows it but him and his father,’ Allen says, ‘Besides, i kid him, he’s not a harpie.’  
‘I mean, what is he have to do with you?’
‘I’m sorry, i don’t divulge. He can be… trippy, at times.   Shall we move on?’

‘Are you an alien?’ i ask.
‘Aren’t we all?’ Allen retorts.
‘I’m not!’ i say.
‘You are not?? You’re not from Spain…’  

*Explosion* I look to the horizon and see fire and black smoke, then a rocket ship emerges from within it and beams up into the sun burnt sky.              
The End 11/18/2015