A PERFECT DAY
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD (RICK) SWAIN
The sky was a cloudless Klein Blue, or an International Klein Blue to be precise. Ellie offered a closed mouth smile to the French artist somewhere in this exalted high as she lay stretched out on the fiberglass bed. A soft warm breeze brushed her body, further awakening her senses.
Nestled under her arm, Billy pointed his finger upward tracing letters. “Oh look” she exclaimed, “There’s an Albatross.” The black and white bird had a wingspan of perhaps ten feet as it gracefully circled high above. “If we were lost at sea, he would say that land is near.” “But we are lost at sea” he said, turning his head up toward his big sister, “And no dumb bird can talk.” “No, remember Daddy said you’re not lost until five suns have passed over your head, and today is just the third.”
The children were up at the bow scanning the horizon for any whale’s breath, when the engine exploded. The small craft rose out of the water and snapped across the mid section. Their father, manning the tiller, was thrown out like a large rag doll, while the front end nosedived into the ocean before bobbing back to the surface. Ellie screamed out for her father floating face down thirty feet away. Just as she was ready to jump into the water, he slowly turned to his side exposing the blackened fire burnt face.
The rear half of the boat slowly disappeared from sight, while the bow section floated and bounced like a large bathtub stuck in a whirlpool. Both Ellie and her father understood the gravity of his injuries. After an exhausting effort to reach their side, it was clear he had no strength to climb out of the water, and forbade Ellie from attempting a fruitless rescue attempt. He spoke to his eldest while consoling the youngest, purposely speaking with his head turned away to soften their anguish.
Ellie was thirteen but as mature as any college student. With adrenaline pumping through her system, she was able to compartmentalize her emotions and train of thought, while listening to the instructions from her father. At last he called Billy to his side. “My young man, your dad loves you as deep as the ocean, and as wide as this sky. I may need to go away for awhile, and, if so, Ellie will care for you, love you, and guide your ways until we see each other again.” What can a four year old comprehend from such scarring words. The father reached back and held the boys hand as the child protested with sobbing grief. “No, no, you can’t leave me, please daddy.”
A rope was found in a forward locker, and Ellie insisted her father wrap and tie the line around his waist. The other end of the rope was secured to a cleat on the bow. A Coleman Cooler with sandwiches, sodas, and water survived intact and was seen floating in the distance. Without saying a word, Ellie quietly removed her shoes, blouse, and shorts. Before either brother or father could respond, she dove into the ocean and started swimming. After several minutes, she paused to reaffirm her direction and panicked when the case was lost from view. In an upright position, she furiously used arms and legs to lift her head as high as possible from the waterline. A prayer was answered on the third attempt as it coincided with the case cresting atop a small wave.
The buoyant case was a lifesaver. Ellie would push the cooler forward, swim several strokes, hold on to the case to rest, and repeat the steps for the next thirty minutes. As she neared the remaining boat section, she realized her father was trying to swim toward her, unaware he was tied and going nowhere. While lifting the precious liquids and food to her brother, their father, with great effort, spoke incoherently. He suddenly paused, and as if his soul was escaping its physical containment, a sound, no, more than a sound, a rush of air so loud came forth that caused both children to look skyward. When Ellie looked down, the most important person in their lives, floated face down in the water.
Ellie pushed their father to the bow, and secured him tightly to the fiberglass side, wrapping the rope again and again around his body and to a second cleat so that he resembled a half clad mummy. So fatigued, both physically and mentally, Ellie clung to the side for an extended period before attempting to climb aboard. With a twisting movement, she was able to hoist a leg over the inside edge, but each attempt to pull her body aboard, caused the boat to roll toward her and brought the risk of capsizing.
“Billy, there is a heavy canvas cover where I found the rope, pull it out and bring it to the back.” The shredded fiberglass midsection was now the stern, and together they folded the material over the sharp edges. Ellie was able to climb aboard. Exhausted, she soon slept soundly with legs spread out on the floor and resting her back against a bench seat. Awakened to the sound of an empty aluminum coke can repeatedly thrown against the inside wall, she shouted with frustration, “Billy! we need to conserve our liquids and food. We need to make everything last until help arrives.” He stared at her with both anger and fear etched in his expression. The little boy was silent and sullen for hours, not understanding the feeling of loss he carried within.
Ellie made a bed with four cushions as a mattress and the canvas for a blanket. They both wore jackets, but neither had long pants. Hundreds of stars sparkled above them, and a light cool breeze gently rocked the boat. In the early dawn, Billy shook his sister awake. “It’s a baby, quick come see.” Looking over the edge as her brother pointed, a dark shape moved several feet away and turned back their way. “It’s a Humpback calf” whispered Ellie, “Look closely and you can see white markings.” A slapping sound on the water caused them to lift their heads. A dark mass far larger than their diminished boat was perhaps twenty feet away. Suddenly the outline took form as the mother raised her tail and pounded the water repeatedly. The calf turned toward the mother, but returned to the boat side as Billy swished water with his hand and slapped the surface imitating the mother’s tail. Soon, the children were touching the soft rubbery skin, and entranced with this unexpected encounter with nature. For no apparent reason, Ellie turned her head toward the bow and screamed.
The rope was piled on a forward shelf in a haphazard manner, and their father’s body was no where to be seen. A quick look between the siblings answered the question of “Did you do something.” Neither could speak, but both peered over the side as if he had just slipped away. The big sister held the curled little brother tightly to her chest, and rocked him slowly, intently aware of her responsibility to save him from further harm. Crisp morning light rose from the horizon in the East, and Ellie paused, taking deep breaths as she inhaled the fresh salty air.
The contents were carefully arranged between them. Four tuna sandwiches, a bag of chips, three waters, one can of Pepsi, and a root beer. Ellie said nothing about the empty package of Oreo cookies. “We will share a sandwich for breakfast, and share a second one in the late afternoon. You need to promise me Billy, we only drink water or soda together, please promise me.”
In the early evening, the young boy lifted his right hand high above his head and looked up as he slowly twisted his arm like a weathervane. “I feel it too,” said his sister. Their strange little vessel started to rock ever more slightly both forward and backward, and from side to side. White caps were forming as the wind gained strength and a dark mass appeared from a southern direction. Within minutes, that mass revealed itself as a menacing wall of rain marching straight toward them. “Billy, put the cooler and canvas in the locker, while I fashion a lifeline.” Ellie ran the rope from the bow cleat to a back side cleat, across to the opposite side and back to the bow forming a taut triangle. “Lie on your back and hold the rope with both hands. Do not let go for any reason.” She laid her legs across her brother to press him against the floor. One minute the wind was lifting the boat on a plane as they were being whisked ahead of the approaching downpour, and just as quickly the water hit with a shocking force. “Help me Daddy,” she heard her brother scream above the roar of wind and rain. Like a Tilt-A-Whirl amusement ride, they spun, bounced, and had moments of being airborne. Was a supernatural power somewhere above orchestrating a disaster or bringing salvation, holding on for dear life they awaited their fate.
As if they were laying in a shallow play pool, the two children exchanged looks, allowed stares to turn into smiles, and smiles to uncontrolled laughter. “Get your legs off of me, I’m dying” giggled the little one. The sea was once again calm, or at least calmer with rhythmic crested waves. Light rain filtered through a moonlit night, and cupping hands, they tossed water out of their stalwart craft.
Fortunately, the locker was watertight as the canvas cover was the only dry material aboard. Two of the cushions were lost during the storm, and they slept fitfully huddled in a canvas cocoon wedged in a corner with body heat being shared and appreciated. With morning light they were ravenous, and each had a sandwich, chips, and shared the root beer. Only one bottle of water and the Pepsi remained in the cooler.
Mid morning, both looked up hearing a strange sound. “Is there a bee buzzing somewhere?” Ellie answered her brother as she turned in all directions, “No bee could be this far from land.” “There, there, what’s that” he yelled pointing off in the distance. The small object looked like a bee if it were five feet away, but this was perhaps a mile in distance and seemingly moving further away. Suddenly Ellie shrieked with a flash of recognition, “I swear, it’s a drone looking for us, come back, this way, here we are!” She quickly stood, and grabbing the canvas cover, tried to wave the heavy material like a flag but tripped and fell as she became ensnared in the folds.
For the next two hours, they scanned the sky in all directions to no avail. At 1:37 P.M. Ellie checked her watch, and for what reason she could not say. The explosion was around this time two days earlier, and now the food was gone and little liquid remained. For the first time, she felt the fear that they could perish out here in this unforgiving ocean. Billy was now her sole responsibility. Their mother fell into a depression after his birth, and too often referred to the family surprise that made her life so difficult. While friends invited Ellie to after school activities, she often used homework as a pretext with babysitting her brother the reality. A year ago, their mother moved out and followed a high school boyfriend to Costa Rica for work in a bird sanctuary. Letters were full of promise to return, but Ellie’s heartache only deepened with the same words repeated again and again.
Hunger brought lethargy and the children spent the remaining afternoon laying on the floor looking skyward. Each had a cushion for a pillow and Billy took his sister’s arm and hooked it around his neck and scooted closer to her side. Tired from word games that each invented, Ellie pointed to the ultramarine color of the sky and spoke of a Frenchman named Yves Klein who had a trademark on a color of blue called IKB. Billy repeated the letters and extended his arm to trace them in the sky as a bird flew high above. She described the bird as an Albatross, considered it a good omen for their rescue, and whispered a prayer.
Stomach cramps from lack of food made swallowing small sips of water difficult. Ellie placed the remaining half bottle back in the cooler and eyed the can of soda for the following day. The sun was low in the Western sky, when once again they heard the buzzing of a drone. Rising up on their knees, it was quickly spotted, and this time coming in their direction. With arms extended, they swung hands back and forth in that glorious evening IKB sky, screaming from their parched lungs with wild abandon. As the drone approached overhead, it stopped perhaps a hundred feet above them and slowly started a descent. It was black in color with four arms, each with a vertical post that held a spinning propeller. Centered below the arms was a large white box with the beautiful Red Cross centered in the middle, The descent was the longest sixty seconds in Ellie’s life as it now hovered perhaps ten feet above their craft. A bay door opened and a pouch dropped onto the floor. Inside the container were rice cakes, packets of gelatin, and water. They immediately started devouring the rice cakes while squeezing the flavored gelatin into their mouths. The drone rose up, dropped back down, and repeated the action several times before moving away to the east and eventually out of sight.
Once stomachs and throats were quenched, Ellie reached into the pouch and withdrew two envelopes. Her natural inclination was to open first the one with the Red Cross. The heading read HELP IS ON THE WAY. Instructions were given for dehydration, open wounds, blistered skin care, and numerous other maladies. Small packets with ointments, bandages, and other first aid necessities filled the bag. Picking up the second envelope, her breathing stopped momentarily, the handwriting was recognizable, JAMES, ELLIE, & WILLIAM JORDAN. She moved to a far corner, pushed her back hard against the side, and drew her legs tight to her chest.
“To my beloved family, if you are reading this letter, my life will once again be worth living. I have come home and will never leave again, please forgive me for the hurt I have deeply caused each one of you. Perhaps Rosie has played a part in our reunion. In Costa Rica, I trained a female albatross for ocean rescue. She is fitted with a transceiver, and if she circles, it is an indication that the lost have been found. The location is transmitted to a search drone, and a sea plane or rescue boat is soon to follow. May my fervent prayer be answered. Your loving wife and mother, Sharon.”
RICHARD (RICK) SWAIN
RICHARD SWAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD (RICK) SWAIN
The sky was a cloudless Klein Blue, or an International Klein Blue to be precise. Ellie offered a closed mouth smile to the French artist somewhere in this exalted high as she lay stretched out on the fiberglass bed. A soft warm breeze brushed her body, further awakening her senses.
Nestled under her arm, Billy pointed his finger upward tracing letters. “Oh look” she exclaimed, “There’s an Albatross.” The black and white bird had a wingspan of perhaps ten feet as it gracefully circled high above. “If we were lost at sea, he would say that land is near.” “But we are lost at sea” he said, turning his head up toward his big sister, “And no dumb bird can talk.” “No, remember Daddy said you’re not lost until five suns have passed over your head, and today is just the third.”
The children were up at the bow scanning the horizon for any whale’s breath, when the engine exploded. The small craft rose out of the water and snapped across the mid section. Their father, manning the tiller, was thrown out like a large rag doll, while the front end nosedived into the ocean before bobbing back to the surface. Ellie screamed out for her father floating face down thirty feet away. Just as she was ready to jump into the water, he slowly turned to his side exposing the blackened fire burnt face.
The rear half of the boat slowly disappeared from sight, while the bow section floated and bounced like a large bathtub stuck in a whirlpool. Both Ellie and her father understood the gravity of his injuries. After an exhausting effort to reach their side, it was clear he had no strength to climb out of the water, and forbade Ellie from attempting a fruitless rescue attempt. He spoke to his eldest while consoling the youngest, purposely speaking with his head turned away to soften their anguish.
Ellie was thirteen but as mature as any college student. With adrenaline pumping through her system, she was able to compartmentalize her emotions and train of thought, while listening to the instructions from her father. At last he called Billy to his side. “My young man, your dad loves you as deep as the ocean, and as wide as this sky. I may need to go away for awhile, and, if so, Ellie will care for you, love you, and guide your ways until we see each other again.” What can a four year old comprehend from such scarring words. The father reached back and held the boys hand as the child protested with sobbing grief. “No, no, you can’t leave me, please daddy.”
A rope was found in a forward locker, and Ellie insisted her father wrap and tie the line around his waist. The other end of the rope was secured to a cleat on the bow. A Coleman Cooler with sandwiches, sodas, and water survived intact and was seen floating in the distance. Without saying a word, Ellie quietly removed her shoes, blouse, and shorts. Before either brother or father could respond, she dove into the ocean and started swimming. After several minutes, she paused to reaffirm her direction and panicked when the case was lost from view. In an upright position, she furiously used arms and legs to lift her head as high as possible from the waterline. A prayer was answered on the third attempt as it coincided with the case cresting atop a small wave.
The buoyant case was a lifesaver. Ellie would push the cooler forward, swim several strokes, hold on to the case to rest, and repeat the steps for the next thirty minutes. As she neared the remaining boat section, she realized her father was trying to swim toward her, unaware he was tied and going nowhere. While lifting the precious liquids and food to her brother, their father, with great effort, spoke incoherently. He suddenly paused, and as if his soul was escaping its physical containment, a sound, no, more than a sound, a rush of air so loud came forth that caused both children to look skyward. When Ellie looked down, the most important person in their lives, floated face down in the water.
Ellie pushed their father to the bow, and secured him tightly to the fiberglass side, wrapping the rope again and again around his body and to a second cleat so that he resembled a half clad mummy. So fatigued, both physically and mentally, Ellie clung to the side for an extended period before attempting to climb aboard. With a twisting movement, she was able to hoist a leg over the inside edge, but each attempt to pull her body aboard, caused the boat to roll toward her and brought the risk of capsizing.
“Billy, there is a heavy canvas cover where I found the rope, pull it out and bring it to the back.” The shredded fiberglass midsection was now the stern, and together they folded the material over the sharp edges. Ellie was able to climb aboard. Exhausted, she soon slept soundly with legs spread out on the floor and resting her back against a bench seat. Awakened to the sound of an empty aluminum coke can repeatedly thrown against the inside wall, she shouted with frustration, “Billy! we need to conserve our liquids and food. We need to make everything last until help arrives.” He stared at her with both anger and fear etched in his expression. The little boy was silent and sullen for hours, not understanding the feeling of loss he carried within.
Ellie made a bed with four cushions as a mattress and the canvas for a blanket. They both wore jackets, but neither had long pants. Hundreds of stars sparkled above them, and a light cool breeze gently rocked the boat. In the early dawn, Billy shook his sister awake. “It’s a baby, quick come see.” Looking over the edge as her brother pointed, a dark shape moved several feet away and turned back their way. “It’s a Humpback calf” whispered Ellie, “Look closely and you can see white markings.” A slapping sound on the water caused them to lift their heads. A dark mass far larger than their diminished boat was perhaps twenty feet away. Suddenly the outline took form as the mother raised her tail and pounded the water repeatedly. The calf turned toward the mother, but returned to the boat side as Billy swished water with his hand and slapped the surface imitating the mother’s tail. Soon, the children were touching the soft rubbery skin, and entranced with this unexpected encounter with nature. For no apparent reason, Ellie turned her head toward the bow and screamed.
The rope was piled on a forward shelf in a haphazard manner, and their father’s body was no where to be seen. A quick look between the siblings answered the question of “Did you do something.” Neither could speak, but both peered over the side as if he had just slipped away. The big sister held the curled little brother tightly to her chest, and rocked him slowly, intently aware of her responsibility to save him from further harm. Crisp morning light rose from the horizon in the East, and Ellie paused, taking deep breaths as she inhaled the fresh salty air.
The contents were carefully arranged between them. Four tuna sandwiches, a bag of chips, three waters, one can of Pepsi, and a root beer. Ellie said nothing about the empty package of Oreo cookies. “We will share a sandwich for breakfast, and share a second one in the late afternoon. You need to promise me Billy, we only drink water or soda together, please promise me.”
In the early evening, the young boy lifted his right hand high above his head and looked up as he slowly twisted his arm like a weathervane. “I feel it too,” said his sister. Their strange little vessel started to rock ever more slightly both forward and backward, and from side to side. White caps were forming as the wind gained strength and a dark mass appeared from a southern direction. Within minutes, that mass revealed itself as a menacing wall of rain marching straight toward them. “Billy, put the cooler and canvas in the locker, while I fashion a lifeline.” Ellie ran the rope from the bow cleat to a back side cleat, across to the opposite side and back to the bow forming a taut triangle. “Lie on your back and hold the rope with both hands. Do not let go for any reason.” She laid her legs across her brother to press him against the floor. One minute the wind was lifting the boat on a plane as they were being whisked ahead of the approaching downpour, and just as quickly the water hit with a shocking force. “Help me Daddy,” she heard her brother scream above the roar of wind and rain. Like a Tilt-A-Whirl amusement ride, they spun, bounced, and had moments of being airborne. Was a supernatural power somewhere above orchestrating a disaster or bringing salvation, holding on for dear life they awaited their fate.
As if they were laying in a shallow play pool, the two children exchanged looks, allowed stares to turn into smiles, and smiles to uncontrolled laughter. “Get your legs off of me, I’m dying” giggled the little one. The sea was once again calm, or at least calmer with rhythmic crested waves. Light rain filtered through a moonlit night, and cupping hands, they tossed water out of their stalwart craft.
Fortunately, the locker was watertight as the canvas cover was the only dry material aboard. Two of the cushions were lost during the storm, and they slept fitfully huddled in a canvas cocoon wedged in a corner with body heat being shared and appreciated. With morning light they were ravenous, and each had a sandwich, chips, and shared the root beer. Only one bottle of water and the Pepsi remained in the cooler.
Mid morning, both looked up hearing a strange sound. “Is there a bee buzzing somewhere?” Ellie answered her brother as she turned in all directions, “No bee could be this far from land.” “There, there, what’s that” he yelled pointing off in the distance. The small object looked like a bee if it were five feet away, but this was perhaps a mile in distance and seemingly moving further away. Suddenly Ellie shrieked with a flash of recognition, “I swear, it’s a drone looking for us, come back, this way, here we are!” She quickly stood, and grabbing the canvas cover, tried to wave the heavy material like a flag but tripped and fell as she became ensnared in the folds.
For the next two hours, they scanned the sky in all directions to no avail. At 1:37 P.M. Ellie checked her watch, and for what reason she could not say. The explosion was around this time two days earlier, and now the food was gone and little liquid remained. For the first time, she felt the fear that they could perish out here in this unforgiving ocean. Billy was now her sole responsibility. Their mother fell into a depression after his birth, and too often referred to the family surprise that made her life so difficult. While friends invited Ellie to after school activities, she often used homework as a pretext with babysitting her brother the reality. A year ago, their mother moved out and followed a high school boyfriend to Costa Rica for work in a bird sanctuary. Letters were full of promise to return, but Ellie’s heartache only deepened with the same words repeated again and again.
Hunger brought lethargy and the children spent the remaining afternoon laying on the floor looking skyward. Each had a cushion for a pillow and Billy took his sister’s arm and hooked it around his neck and scooted closer to her side. Tired from word games that each invented, Ellie pointed to the ultramarine color of the sky and spoke of a Frenchman named Yves Klein who had a trademark on a color of blue called IKB. Billy repeated the letters and extended his arm to trace them in the sky as a bird flew high above. She described the bird as an Albatross, considered it a good omen for their rescue, and whispered a prayer.
Stomach cramps from lack of food made swallowing small sips of water difficult. Ellie placed the remaining half bottle back in the cooler and eyed the can of soda for the following day. The sun was low in the Western sky, when once again they heard the buzzing of a drone. Rising up on their knees, it was quickly spotted, and this time coming in their direction. With arms extended, they swung hands back and forth in that glorious evening IKB sky, screaming from their parched lungs with wild abandon. As the drone approached overhead, it stopped perhaps a hundred feet above them and slowly started a descent. It was black in color with four arms, each with a vertical post that held a spinning propeller. Centered below the arms was a large white box with the beautiful Red Cross centered in the middle, The descent was the longest sixty seconds in Ellie’s life as it now hovered perhaps ten feet above their craft. A bay door opened and a pouch dropped onto the floor. Inside the container were rice cakes, packets of gelatin, and water. They immediately started devouring the rice cakes while squeezing the flavored gelatin into their mouths. The drone rose up, dropped back down, and repeated the action several times before moving away to the east and eventually out of sight.
Once stomachs and throats were quenched, Ellie reached into the pouch and withdrew two envelopes. Her natural inclination was to open first the one with the Red Cross. The heading read HELP IS ON THE WAY. Instructions were given for dehydration, open wounds, blistered skin care, and numerous other maladies. Small packets with ointments, bandages, and other first aid necessities filled the bag. Picking up the second envelope, her breathing stopped momentarily, the handwriting was recognizable, JAMES, ELLIE, & WILLIAM JORDAN. She moved to a far corner, pushed her back hard against the side, and drew her legs tight to her chest.
“To my beloved family, if you are reading this letter, my life will once again be worth living. I have come home and will never leave again, please forgive me for the hurt I have deeply caused each one of you. Perhaps Rosie has played a part in our reunion. In Costa Rica, I trained a female albatross for ocean rescue. She is fitted with a transceiver, and if she circles, it is an indication that the lost have been found. The location is transmitted to a search drone, and a sea plane or rescue boat is soon to follow. May my fervent prayer be answered. Your loving wife and mother, Sharon.”
RICHARD (RICK) SWAIN
RICHARD SWAIN