Sophia Liu (9) | STAFF REPORTER
A candle flickered dimly inside the old log cabin; the only source of light for miles. By the window, an old man sat on a sturdy wooden chair. Pen in hand, he lay hovered over a large pile of yellowed paper.
It was a starless night. Outside, the sea sang a lulling melody. It seemed to enchant the clouds into a slow drift, wandering sleepily over the new moon. Her dark waves lapped onto the shore, tripping over small stones before retreating back into the unknown.
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Otherwise, the man led a quiet life. When the weather was calm, bow rippling delicately through clear waters, he would recount about his hauls of the day. He had neither wealth nor status. To the world, he was just a nobody; living quietly through each passing day alongside millions of other earthly creatures. But it was peaceful and he was content. Fishing was his life and writing was his world. He’d fall asleep every night humbled and heart full.
Gently, a wind slipped into the cabin through the half-open windows, reducing the flame to a timid trail of smoke on a naked wick. Head in arms, the old man rested over his unfinished works; adventures he would wake up to continue on future nights, and stories left to be discovered after he’d long passed on.
