Ignorance | Teen Ink

Ignorance

February 1, 2015
By onesimpleidea BRONZE, Parker, Co, Colorado
onesimpleidea BRONZE, Parker, Co, Colorado
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


     The salty breeze curled lazily over the placid surface of the water, causing only the most delicate ripples over its teal surface. The sea was calm, and stretched out endlessly in miles and miles of rippling glass. The sun was out too, hidden only by the occasional wistful cloud. It shone brightly, its yellow-tinged glow glinting in the manes of the rolling waves. Whispering gently to itself with each serene swell, the ocean always watched from its surface, the beauty above and the dark below.

     Amidst the beauty and the untainted tranquility of the constant movement of the sea, there was another force at hand. Blood soon tainted the teal, and new waves trailed in the wake of an unstoppable power—a ship with twelve sails as dark as rubies. Its size matched the uncontainable pride that it held as it traveled on its course, the wind on its back and Fate on its side. It looked out at the miles and miles of endless glass, embracing its own arrogance, as it knew no threat would come to it. Mounted in its gleaming hull lay forty expectant cannons, and seven with positions on the deck, their long barrels like necks outstretched over the sides, over the sea.

     Whether by attack or storm, the ship knew no fear, fully confident in the skill of its crew and the strength of its wood to keep its foes subjugated. It looked out over the peaceful, ripping waves, continuing with the dignity of its blood-red sails.
An on-looking ship could not help but be afraid of its powerful countenance. It knew that, and used the fear of others to its own benefit. Neither precious stones nor any valuable cargo would be worth challenging the ship with the blood-red sails, protected by the silver serpent that curled in circles around its bow, mouth open wide and fangs bared in a pose to strike. Not even the red diamonds in the serpent’s eyes could lure any but a fool into battle against the massive ship, and so it remained dominant, standing above all the ships and the fish in the sea as it continued on its steady course.

     The ocean, however, knew. It listened intently to the singing that drifted from the deck of the ship, the sound of the crew laughing and drinking and celebrating. They sang, rejoicing about the protection of the beautiful ship and the days and months of (no opposition). The sea watched as the ship took in the praise with open arms, but it remained silent. Calm. Still. It knew.

     Such arrogance. For beneath the surface, beneath the glass, there were superior forces at play. Beneath the surface, there were gods. Colossal beasts of the depths, they glided through the open sea, collecting beneath the ship with the blood-red sails. The sea monsters glanced at each other, smiles distorting gaping mouths and rows or serrated teeth. They acknowledged the conceit of the tiny ship, baring their fangs in laughter as each passed harmlessly under the boat, not causing even a ripple on the surface. They were all aware. The ghastly spawn of darkness knew, along with the ocean that shielded their presence.

     The ship continued on its course. Ignorant. Oblivious. It looked out at the glass, enveloped in the lust of power and superiority. A curious sea serpent with scales composed of pure obsidian coiled through a mass of tentacles, to look up at the silver snake on the bow of the boat. A chuckle of amusement sounded from a repulsive shark of tremendous length and stature as it compared the sizes of the serpent and the snake, swimming up past an armored monster who was also eager to see the proud little ship.

     The legion stayed at its slow speed, trailing their spined fins and tentacles through the silt at the bottom of the ocean and through the carcasses of ships that had been claimed by the sea. All eyes lifted to the miniscule boat that drifted obliviously over their heads. The wiser and scarred creatures trailed behind at a much slower pace, for they had seen arrogance many times before, sharing occasional chuckle with the calm sea and the ignorance that it encouraged.

     The ship with the blood-red sails was confident. There was much it didn’t know. There was much it didn’t dream. It looked out over the sparkling glass at what it knew and loved, continuing on its path. It looked out over the peaceful, ripping waves, continuing with the dignity of its blood-red sails. It looked out over the miles and miles of empty sea, knowing that no threat would have the courage to oppose it.

     The ocean, however, knew. The depths were filled with the twisted unknown that the ship would never bring to light. It would never know. It would look out over the calm surface, embracing the piece as its own strength and its own fortune. Therefore, the magnificent ship with the blood red sails continued on its course, with the wind on its back and Fate on its side. That was all it knew. And that is all it would ever know.



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