Christian Warfield || District F O U R (Done)

He watched the waves gently lap the shore, retreating into the inky blackness before they rose up to swallow his feet, brushing past his chest. He swayed with the motions, lanky arms lifting up, the ocean’s gravity attempting to pull him back into the briny blue. His form resisted, only shifting forward the slightest bit with the white sands, flicking his dark hair from his eyes. Again, the ocean rose up, battering his chest with the roar of the waves, white sea-foam splashing across his chest and legs. Drifting lazily above, high over the horizon, the sun shone brightly, an encouraging sign for the young sailor. Sixteen years of life brought him to this moment, this shining, beautiful moment when he decided.

“Sea is gone.” He said to his companion just to his left who sat on the sands beside him.
“Yeah, you said something about that. He went off for peacekeeper training, didn’t he?” the other male questioned, as a wave rose, pushing them back, pulling them forward.

“Yes, but this time, he’s gone for good he says. Never coming back. Just up and left mom, dad and me.” The male shook his head, his dark eyes staring down at the tiny fragments of sea shell around. “He never liked it at home. I couldn’t understand why. Mother and father absolutely adored him. He’s the favorite child you know. Always scored high on his exams, ‘Too good for the district’ our neighbors would say.” His right fingers clenched into a fist, and he pounded it down into the soaking sands around him, pushing his back into the water as yet another wave snaked its way behind their bodies. This time, he floated further up the shore, about five feet away where the waters stopped, drifting back into the ocean. His companion stood and pushed off some of the muck from his legs, sliding to sit with his friend.

“Don’t act like Sea doesn’t have his own problems, Chris.” He said, sitting out of reach from the warm waves, peeking down at the male’s face. “You’re just a rebel, you know that? If you hate it so much here, why don’t you leave?”

Brown eyes grew wide with the realization, and he glared above his head at the icy blue sky. A flurry of gulls flew above them, cawing and caterwauling overhead. “I could do it, you know. I could leave. Just take a boat in the dead of night and go.”

Quiet echoed back, his companion staring down in awe. “Oh, Chris, you are NOT serious.” The other male threw his hands into the air and looked around, to be sure no prying eyes or ears watched, or listened in on their conversation. “Look, it’s a romantic idea at best. All of these ships have trackers! What do you honestly think you’re going to do, steal one, break a hole in the hull and sail off into the sunset? No! It’s not going to happen that way, especially since the only boats out there are ours, or the capitols. What would you do when they captured you and cut out your tongue? You’re a sailor, Chris, not a captive. Just stay. You’ve got four more years before you can leave the district like your brother!”

“But I don’t WANT to be a peacekeeper, can’t you see that!? I want to rough it like the pirates in our work songs. I want to be a captain- but that won’t ever happen. I can’t score well enough on my exams, and no one is searching for an apprentice right now.” Long, lanky arms crossed violently over his skinny chest. If one looked, they could count his ribs without much effort at all. “I don’t want to be a nobody. I want to do something with my life. I want to explore the coast, I want to find islands of gold and meet new people.”
“That’s not something the capitol would let you do, regardless if you were a peacekeeper or not, Chris. Damnit, I shouldn’t have ever said anything to you. I was joking, it was a joke. Please, don’t leave. You’ll never make it far, especially with a boat with a damaged hull!”

“Oh please, I’m not just going to go unprepared. I know how to bore my own boat. I’ll make my own vessel! This is going to happen. You probably won’t see me again if I chose to go, you know.” He winked at his friend and steadily rose from the shore, dusting his legs off. “Maybe I can make a big enough boat and take you with me. I know you don’t want to waste your life away here.”

He waved to his friend and reached for his shirt and shoes, tugging the articles onto his chest and feet. “I’ll see you around~!” he called, a final goodbye to his childhood friend.

Steady feet carried him down the well-worn path bordering the ocean’s shore, far, far north until he reached the piers and docks where all the well-to-do-fishermen kept their vessels. Most were made of thick metal that gleamed in the sunlight and radiated heat, gentle waves lapping their sides making heavy, thick, slop –slop-slop sounds as they barely moved in the afternoon light. Christian shoved his thin, skinny hands into the pockets of his shorts as he peeked around.

The larger vessels were kept further out, at least in fifty feet of water he would say, if he had to guess. There was no telling how deep the hulls extended from the ship’s bodies. His gaze fell to his left as he walked forward, on a small, three-person, personal fishing vessel. It probably belonged to some retired captain who made a fortune selling swordfish and the like. It was not unheard of to hear of a group of older captains leaving for a few days at a time for a short, deep-sea fishing expedition.

It looked sea-worthy, with a single mast sticking straight into the sky, the silver pole catching the light magnificently. The deck was extremely well made- cherry wood, or oak, he had to say. A voice echoed back a him, and he turned, spotting his companion from the shore racing to meet him. “What are you doing?” he hissed, his own pale eyes flicking this way and that. “What if you’re caught up here? Christ, you need to stop this.”

“Oh hush.” The older male sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked about, crouching on the rotting deck-wood, his fingers gently lowering to pet a thick line of rope anchoring the pale white vessel to the docks. “Look at it just sitting there, ours for the taking.”
“It’s probably all locked up and besides, who the hell wouldn’t notice it missing? It’s owners have a lot of cash Christian, you don’t want to mess with them! They can make your life hell, and what would Sea say?”

At the mention of his older brother, the male whipped around, standing to his full height. Though he was only five foot six, he loomed over his companion. “So what? What would Sea care? He has all his new friends in the capitol. He doesn’t care about me. He never loved any of us. His only dream was to become some big shot!”

His voice grew in volume and depth until it was a roar over the ocean below their feet. The mousy male beside him stared up with wide eyes until the echo of a far older masculine voice called over to their positions. “Shit! Shit! Chris, we’re in trouble!” the little boy whimpered, trembling where he stood. “I can’t get in trouble again! Shit! Look what you fucking did! We’re going to be in so much trouble! Didn’t you see the ‘No Trespassing signs!?”

Christian rolled his eyes, and gently took the fingers of his friend, leading him to the edge of the dock. “Hush you.” He grumbled, gently pushing him over. A splash echoed over the sound of his voice, and he slipped in behind with a quiet slurp. He sank for a bit, maybe five or so feet down. The bright blue saltwater around him left a taste in his open mouth he could have lived without, but directly below him, the dark ocean, an inky blackness reflected up at him. He blinked, and kicked his legs, pushing himself to the surface with ease.

His hand captured that of his friend who was flailing only slightly, attempting to tread his water. Overhead, footsteps echoed, and Christian raised a finger to his gently parted lips to shush his friend. Together, they gently began to drift further to the shoreline, using the dock to pull themselves along. Overhead, tiny beams of sunlight shone down through the planks, illuminating their pale faces. Chris had a stupid grin on his face, the kind he was well known for- from Sea, of course. Hearts pounding in their throats, they escaped the seafaring men, emerging on the right side of the docks, hauling themselves out of the ocean.

They could not stop there- they sprinted for the high chain-link fences, colliding with them, their hands and feet finding any holds they could until they scaled the ten foot length, and rolled off on the other side. Giddy and laughing, the two boys raced each other home, snuggling down tight in their beds after a healthy dinner.