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As the water in Redcliffe Bay stretches out towards the ocean, three tall islands stand, striving to block the morning light from the rising sun. Yet, like the falling of leaves in the autumn, and the dark long nights of the winter, some things are simply certain; each day the sun rises above the islands, its light illuminating the bay, tickling the top of ship-masts before crashing down on the decks.
To Ethan, the sun was always a tender curiousity; its inexhaustible ability to rise each morning enchanted him. How does it not tire, always meeting its aim? Humanity had such a dissimilarity; people’s aims and goals run away with the pace and uncertainty of life, only to come back briefly in the wildest of dreams or when time has long passed. It is invariably saddening to see the eldest with goals never achieved, without a single chance of pursuit, yet all the time in the world, as the youngest, so reassured of future time, get strung along with life’s uncertainty and pace that they watch their purpose sail by, like the boats now rolling out for the morning catch.
The sun had not yet risen when Ethan stood in the bay that morning; the islands were still full of that false hope against the inevitable. In a sense, Ethan was full of false hope too, for he did not know that many of his dreams were already behind him, back in yesterday’s time. Very soon, life’s uncertainty was about to catch up with him and wildly throw him about; it would then disappear for but a brief moment, only to reappear in full force, making this morning’s daybreak only a poignant reminder of the life before now.
And so unknowingly, Ethan sat and waited for sunrise, his eyes observing the fishermen take to boats like moths to flame, equally unrealising of the future. To everyone, there was a misguided tranquillity and happiness; a hope that perhaps today they could beat the passing of the time.
Today, they thought, they could be the sun - always achieving, always rising above the islands.