The Turbulent waters

Disclaimer: An absolutely original work of fiction.

The ship swayed with the waves in a rhythmic movement as it continued moving northwards. Droplets of moonlight sparkled on the surface of the water as the waves moved up and down. The night had long set in and the only light around was that of the moon and of the cigarette that he had lit.

He was sitting on the deck of his ship, the proud Captain that he was, with a cigarette between his fingers. He was gazing at the stars that filled the sky. He wondered whether they outnumbered the living creatures in the sea that he had spent his life with.

He remembered sliding down the pole that carried the flag as a child and sitting for hours together with the fishing pole - a small ball of goat meat tied to the other end. His father, the cock-eyed sailor would tell him that he wouldn't catch any fish with that in a sea but the little boy wouldn't listen.

The pole was covered with rust now. Somewhere at the bottom of the Caspian sea. He imagined how his father must've fought like a brave warrior against the might of the nature - until the ship wrecked and drowned. He could visualize how his father must've assembled his men and put together last efforts of survival.

He put off his cigarette with his pointed shoe and got up from the chair. He moved to the edge of the ship and leaned. He could see nothing but water shimmering in the moonlight. But he kept looking. Hoping to find the ship that had taken his father to the depths of the sea-floor. He sighed.

He stretched out his neck upwards and gazed at the stars again. Hoping to find his father in them atleast...