Mini Brain Dumps

Hello everyone! Welcome back to Darkest Depths. I’m thrilled to share the next chapter of our journey with you. Your support has been incredible, and I’m so grateful to have you all along for the ride!

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Now, let’s dive into the latest chapter…

Trigger Warning: This novel contains references to sexual assault and mental health disorders. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 8:

Weeks passed, and with it the desire to travel abroad only intensified. When the whispers began to buzz through the village of the potential return of the sailors, Quentin couldn’t help the excitement that began to simmer beneath his skin. Any chance he got he would make his way down to the ports, waiting for their eventual return.

Finally, the silhouette of a familiar ship appeared on the horizon, its battered sails billowing in the wind. Quentin stood at the edge of the weathered planks of the bustling docks, the salty tang of the sea hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of fish and brine. As the ships drew into the harbor, the port came alive with activity – sailors shouting, merchants haggling, seagulls screeching overhead.

As a ship grew closer, Quentin’s gaze locked onto the figure of Captain Elias, standing tall at the helm.

“Catch,” the captain yelled, throwing a heavy rope towards Quentin.

Quentin watched as the rope tumbled through the air towards him. As he raised his arms to catch it, the rope slipped through his fingers. The sharp hemp bit into his fingers as it fell to the dock, coming to rest at his feet. He scrambled to collect it, looking up at Captain Elias with a smile as he gathered the bundle up in his arms. The captain offered a tight-lipped smile and a nod in return.

“Sorry,” Quentin yelled back, his cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson.

He pulled the rope over to the moors, wrapping it around the poles in a figure eight pattern before knotting it, securing the ship to the dock. He watched as the crew lowered the gang plank and the captain began his creaky descent down the board.

“Ye almost had it, lad,” the captain said, clapping Quentin on the shoulder as he walked past.

“I’ll catch it next time,” Quentin replied sheepishly.

The captain turned towards him; his eyes weary. “Ah, Quentin, my lad” he replied. “I fear there will be no next time, this was me last voyage.”

Quentin’s heart sank at the captain’s words, a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach. “Your last voyage?” he echoed.

The captain nodded solemnly, “Aye, lad. The time has come for me to hang up me hat and bid farewell to the sea. It’s been me home for far too long. I need to rest me weary bones.”

“Are you sure?” Quentin asked.

“Aye, I’m sure,” the captain responded.

Slowly, the captain walked away. As Quentin watched the captain disappearing into the thronging crowd, Quentin felt like a part of his heart had been ripped out – no more stories, no more ships, no more captain.

The call of the sea had never been stronger, its siren song echoing in the depths of his soul, beckoning him to follow in the footsteps of the man who had inspired him all these years.

“Captain,” he heard himself shouting over the crowd before he could stop himself.

The captain turned to face him. “Yes, lad?”

“Just one more adventure… Let me join you,” Quentin pleaded.

Captain Elias regarded Quentin for a long moment, “Ah, Quentin, you’ve got the fire of youth burning bright within you,” he said, his face softening. “But you know as well as I do that the sea is unforgiving. It’s no place for a boy.”

Quentin’s heart sank at the captain’s words, but he refused to be deterred. “Please, Captain. You were a boy too once, remember? You told me you were a boy when you first sailed. I’m asking for a chance. A chance to be like you, to learn from you before you hang up your hat for good. Please,” he begged.

The captain studied Quentin intently, his gaze piercing. “I’m sorry, lad, but me decision stands. Ye’ve got a bright future ahead of ye, one that doesn’t need to be tied to an old sailor like meself.”

With a heavy heart, Quentin nodded, knowing that further appeals would be futile. “I understand, Captain. Thank you for everything.”

As Captain Elias disappeared into the bustling crowd once more, Quentin stood alone on the weathered planks of the docks, the echoes of his shattered dreams reverberating in the depths of his soul. For a fleeting moment, doubt threatened to consume him, the weight of disappointment pressing down upon him like an anchor dragging him beneath the waves.

But then, something stirred within Quentin, a flicker of determination that refused to be extinguished. Clenching his fists, he squared his shoulders, a steely resolve taking root within him. He had come too far, dreamed too deeply, to let this setback derail his ambitions.

With a defiant glare at the horizon, Quentin made a silent vow to himself. He wasn’t going to be deterred. Not this time. If Captain Elias wouldn’t take him on one last adventure, then he would chart his own course.

___

Quentin found his mother, a gentle smile on her face, her hands clutching a pair of knitting needles. “Back already?” she said, looking over the rim of her glasses as he entered.

Quentin felt his heart twist in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her, not yet. Instead, he offered a tight-lipped smile.

“There wasn’t really anything interesting today,” he said softly, avoiding her gaze. “I’ll… I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, “Nothing interesting? Really? That’s a first,” she said. “Dinner will be ready soon. I’m making your favorite… rabbit stew.”

“That sounds amazing mom,” he answered. I’ll… I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
“I’ll call you when it’s ready,” she replied.

Quentin turned away, retreating to his room.

In the dim light, Quentin retrieved a worn leather satchel, its seams frayed with age but sturdy. Opening it, he carefully placed a few changes of clothes inside, folding them neatly before stuffing them into his bag. Trousers, a couple shirts and a warm cloak found their place among his belongings. He retrieved a small pouch from the depths of his drawer, its content glinting in the soft light filtering through the window. Within it lay a handful of coins, his meager savings accumulated over years of hard work on the farm. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

He grabbed the journal that he had stuffed in the back of his drawer and ripped a page from it. He walked over to his bed and plopped onto it, crossing his ankle over his knee and balancing the journal precariously, the paper on top. On his nightstand, he grabbed a pencil. He sat there, with his hand hovering over the paper trying to figure out what to write, to put into words what he was feeling and why he had to do this. Finally, after a moment, he began to write.

I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you this in person. The words just wouldn’t come out, and I didn’t want to see the look in your eyes when I said them. I am a coward.

I’m leaving,. Mom. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do, but I can’t stay here any longer. Something inside is pulling me away, telling me there’s more out there, something I need to find. You’ve always told me to trust my instincts. See – I do listen to you.

Captain Elias told me today that he is retiring, that he is never going to sail again, and a part of me felt like he ran a knife through my heart. And I realized that my dreams can no longer be ignored. I have to do this. Perhaps it’s dad’s blood in my veins that calls me to the sea. Perhaps it’s idiocy. Or maybe it’s both.

I know you might not understand this right now, and I don’t blame you. I don’t really understand it myself. But I feel like I’ve been living someone else’s life, and now it’s time for me to find my own. I’m scared, but I think that’s how I know it’s the right thing to do.

You’re a strong woman, and I know you don’t need it, but Lucy will help you around the farm. And Eloise or Margery, heck the whole town probably, are there for you too. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful, and I promise I’ll come back one day. I just need to figure out who I am and what I’m meant to do.

I love you. And I hope you can forgive me.

Love,

Quentin

He folded the note up and put it onto his pillow before cramming his journal back into his drawer. He grabbed the satchel from where he discarded it on the floor by his bed and slung it over his shoulder. As he placed his hand on the door to his room, he looked around one last time. He noticed a small wooden carving on his nightstand, a gift he received when he was eight years old from his mother. Quentin approached the table and picked it up gently. It was a simple but intricately carved figurine of a ship. He placed it gently into his bag before leaving.

As Quentin emerged from his room, his satchel slung over his shoulder, he found his mother waiting for him in the hallway, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Where are you off to?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.

“Just going out for a bit. I’ll be back soon,” Quentin replied, offering her a reassuring smile as he adjusted the strap of his satchel.

His mother studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on the satchel at his side. “Be careful,” she said, her words carrying a weight of unspoken understanding.

“I will, Mom,” Quentin replied, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Quentin,” his mother said, returning the embrace with a gentle squeeze, her arms reluctant to let him go.

With a final nod, Quentin turned and made his way to the door, each step echoing in the quiet hall. His hand hovered over the doorknob. This was it – the moment he had been waiting for; his dreams were finally becoming a reality. With a steadying breath, he pushed open the door.

With the door closing behind him, Quentin stepped into the crisp night air. His footsteps were deliberate but light as he made his way through the familiar streets of Marielle, the darkness doing little to deter his navigation skills. As he walked, he couldn’t help but flit between excitement of adventure and the bittersweet ache of leaving behind everything he knew.

Before he realized it, Quentin found himself standing before Lucy’s doorstep. The warm glow of lamplight spilled out from the windows. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, before steeping himself and stepping forward. He raised his hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet night as he waited for her to open the door.

The door creaked opened slightly, revealing a sliver of light from within.

“Hey, Lucy,” Quentin greeted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The door opened further, and Lucy warm smile greeted him. “Quentin, what brings you here?” she asked, searching his face for clues.

Quentin shifted on his feet, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt as he avoided meeting her gaze. “I, um…. I brought you something,” he said, his voice faltering slightly.

Quentin reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the cool metal of the silver pendant he had purchased earlier that day. A necklace he had spotted among the treasures at the market – a shimmering mermaid suspended from a delicate chain; its surface adorned with tiny, glimmering gems that caught the lamplight.

“I promised to get you something pretty,” he murmured, his fingers trembling slightly as he held it out to her.

Lucy’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she hesitated, uncertain of how to respond. “You were supposed to get me something from the last market,” she said softly, her eyes searching his face for an explanation.

Quentin felt a pang of anxiety, wondering if he had made a mistake. Yet, he held her gaze, his heart racing as he awaited her reaction.

Taking the necklace from his hand cautiously, Lucy examined it, her fingers tracing the delicate curves of the mermaid’s tail. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

“Better late than never,” Quentin replied, his eyes meeting hers.

A soft smile played on Lucy’s lips as she looked down at the necklace in her hand. “Thank you, Quentin,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth. “It’s beautiful.”

Relief washed over Quentin as he returned her smile. Quentin nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “You’re welcome,” he managed to choke out, his voice thick.

Lucy pulled Quentin into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around him with a warmth that chased away the chill of the night. For a moment, Quentin felt as though he could stay in her embrace forever lost in the comfort of her presence. He breathed in the familiar scent of lilac and vanilla.

As they pulled apart, he tucked a strand of her behind her ear, slipping a few coins into the pocket of her apron as he did so. He knew she would find it later, perhaps when she was going about her chores for the day. His silent thank you – for everything.

Reluctantly, Quentin stepped back, his gaze lingering on Lucy’s face as he tried to memorize every detail. “Have a good night, Lucy,” Quentin said softly, before turning away.

“You too,” she replied, though her eyes filled with tears as she watched Quentin disappear into the night.

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