The magic of words.

Two of the greatest gifts given to man are words and imagination. One without the other is the definition of potential unfulfilled.

Imagination is a blank canvas to begin with; it's like floating in a void, neither hot nor cold, without up or down and the magic only begins when we add words. Then we begin to paint the blackness with color.

***

From the gloom I see a sliver of pink way way off in the distance. I move towards it, and see the pink gather strength.The color becomes a sunrise, painting edges of previously invisible clouds. Pink grows through gold, until it becomes a glorious sunrise. I look down and see a sapphire blue ocean flecked by rolling waves. In the distance, just the hint of brooding hills and sandy beaches. 

On the horizon, a sail appears, then divides into two, then six. A galleon runs before the wind, slicing the waves with a knife sharp bow.  The rigging, as complex as a spiders web, is all but invisible from this great height, but I can see the sails straining under the weight of a growing breeze. I look to the horizon and see dark cloud gathering and rushing on. I hear the ships sails crack as the squall hits. The timbers of the hull groan as they are forced to bite into the growing swell. The ship heals far over, threatening to tip the crew into the depths. 

The storm grows and I watch the sailors reef the sail and baton down the hatches. At the helm, a handsome man with wild hair battles to keep the vessel on course as wind, and wave, crash upon them. The seas are huge now, washing over the rails, taking men from their feet, trying to drag them into their deaths. Time stands still, and rushes forward, hustling the scene until the ship crashes on a submerged reef and the sound of snapping timbers chills my bones. 

It's a terrible sight to see such a majestic vessel begin to die. Sailors jump into monster waves only to be beaten senseless then vanish beneath. In the end, only the young captain remains, struggling to keep his head above the water. His dark eyes are full of fear. He takes a gulp of air and watches a mountain of water rise above him. It explodes like a cannon, driving the man so very deep, survival is impossible. I fold my arms tight to my body and dive through the air; aiming for the point where the captain vanished. I hit the surface and slice through the water like a knife. In the depths I can see the captains body drifting lifelessly toward the bottom. 

Something moves, a flash of white, only to dart away. The specter circles the drowning man, as if entranced. The shadow solidifies into something I can hardly believe I am seeing. It becomes the most beautiful woman, with blonde hair streaming over her slender shoulders to touch the top of her hip. There the woman stopped and her body morphed into the tail of a fish. She's is the most amazing creature I have ever gazed upon. The sailor's body settles on the reef, a moment from becoming another soul calmed by the sea when the maid surged forward, grasping him, and with a flick of her wondrous tail she launched them toward the surface. 

It takes every ounce of my will to keep pace with the creature as she drove toward shore. My head breaks the waves in time to see the mermaid drag the captain up the beach. He looks so peaceful, as if sleeping, without a care in the world. She is oblivious to my presence, as she cradles the young sailor, concern pinching the skin above her eyes. She leans close to kiss the dead sailor and a light glows around them, blinding me for the briefest moment. When their lips part, color returns to the man's lips, his chest rises and life returns to his body. 

The maid look distraught as she crawled back to the surf; the pounding waves washing tears from her face. I noticed her tail no longer glowed golden; now it was the silver gray of an aging salmon. She'd sacrificed so much of herself to save the man, perhaps out of goodness, perhaps out of love. Whatever the reason, she entered the water lessened for her kiss.

***

Words, just words, but what places they take us.