House of the Sea Captain
Storm warning! There hasn't been as bad a storm as this one looks to be, in recorded history. We'll have enough time to close up the shutters and windows just in time!
Then it will hit us with full force gales, that, if I were on ship, I would never survive. We'd be overturned for sure. But as I sit in the turret observing the clouds as they gather, I'm wondering what's gotten into the planet to make her so wrathful! Surely, it seems it's us humans who have somehow engendered this storm.
My sea intuition tells me it's related somehow. My scientific, rational brain says that's a bunch of old seaman's lore, from my irrational brain, and born out of fear of the elements.
Regardless of my inner conflicts, the storm has arrived in full vengeance. And that's real, and must be prepared for. I focus on that, and keep my inner conflicts at bay, for a time when it's safer to bring them out for a closer examination.
In the meantime, the roof sections of the cathedral tower to the north east of the house turret room have started to peel off suddenly with the rising wind.
Below, at street level, the housekeeper, Mrs Brill, bless her soul, has just opened the front door to the ship's crew. Seeking refuge they are. They have the right to ask that of their Captain in such circumstances as this. And, if the storm lasts past the first night I'm also obliged to make emergency space for their wives and children. As I descend the spiral staircase, I am already dividing up the rooms between the families, in my mind. Captain's duty.
Time for a fortifying drink with the crew. Then, a terse decisive discussion about who's spending the night shipboard in dock. I can tell by the anxious, worried frowns shaking my hand that no one is going to volunteer to leave this house now that they've made it inside.
I start by gathering information about where their wives are. Everyone's getting their own family in here right now. There's no sense in waiting til the streets become an obstacle course and impassable. Which they will be with flying debris by the morning.
As they pull up their collars and head out into the rain, my thoughts turn to my own would-be wife Josephine in London, and wonder how I will ever make this up to her.
Writing by Regina Stemberger