Her heart sank. It was inevitable. Kathy, at the time, was an immigrant of the harbor, and thought she had learnt why the redundant harbor evoked two sensations. Unveiling itself to those who had known it a lifetime, it was a bleak and superficial space comprised of woes and afflictions. These were the people who saw the precipice behind often sink into the clouds, trying to free itself away from the charming facade.

To new settlers and passersby, the early mornings sparked thrilling desires as the harbor was embellished with slender boats, aloof waters, and effervescent clouds emerging from dawn. Bright hints of orange and blue marine paraphernalia, and the clenching fishery smells that could awaken even the dormant. The late nights garnered a layer of stars that encapsulated a feigned freedom.

Looking back, from a place of towering wedges and scintillating lights, Kathy had only then realized that the events that led to her sinking heart were not down to the myth of the harbor; but in giving her an excuse to scatter her affairs across an old tale. Blaming all occurrences on superstition made inner afflictions become something that she didn’t have to deal with.

After realizations amongst the bright wedges, she was willing to return to the harbor.

The waters seemed to gleam, softening the harsh textures in the air and a precipice now stood with pride, cautiously watching from behind the clouds.

—By Marianna M., 23, London ♦