Moby Dick test

August 7th, 1863

There was always something about the sunrise that enticed me.

Mama once said to look up when the rays touched the clouds, to trace the gold along
the grey -- S​ ee how it brightens up? That right there is what hope tastes like, that
feeling.

What feeling?, I would ask, but all Ma would do was provide a small smile. Not once
did I get a straight answer, so I stood, searching.

Right now, I stand: searching for that feeling, staring at bits of gold, blue, and black.
But, alas, I find nothing nor hope for much, so I shouldn't waste my energy.

God knows how I have none to give. And, through all His knowledge, God knows my
allegiance has been severed through His faults.

Severed because I have seen far too little in the far too many years I have walked this
Earth. S​ uch a foolish thing to say​, Mama used to tell me, but never did I pose a
question to her in those moments. I knew revealing my concerns to her would change
nothing of my enlightenment.

Having shared this once to a stranger however, I was told to look from the sun to the
sea -- a tall, gentle man with a small child said this in a hushed voice one night in a
dark room. At first, I hadn't quite understood the depth of these words.

Why, how on earth could I? The sea with all its abyss of curiosity and its deep blue
contrasting my golden sky was nothing I envied or wished to linger in. In fact, I fear it,
to some extent. When my toes dip in, when the cold embraces the warmth of my skin:
it is always nice of course. Maybe you can even say, rather than fearing it, I admire the
ocean: how it flows, how it rages and yet engulfs people with such gentle regard.
Which, is to say, the ocean kills with soft kisses and arms with the embrace of a
poisonous lover -- b​ ut who wouldn't yearn for that sort of death?

I suppose I wouldn't, to answer this age-old query.

Ah, but here I am getting ahead of myself. It's far too late now to make much sense, so
perhaps it’s appropriate to bid my words a good night. I shall see you once the morning
greets me again.

---
Once upon a time, a small princess stood tall at the foot of the throne. It wasn't a

particularly fancy throne. In fact, it wasn't even a pretty throne. But it was a throne
nonetheless. A throne where a tall, noble young man sat with warm arms open, and a
smile that could light up the world.

This was the princess' favorite spot in the castle: on the throne on the King's lap,
hugging him gently and listening to his rumbly voice singing lullabies.

***

"God will frown upon you, condemn you, and your ship will sink to hell where you
abominations all belong."

"What does Hell really stand for, good sir? What salvation does Heaven really provide
us? All we do is hide and cower, but I refuse. The Angels won't get us, the Demons
won't find us. We will not stoop to your level, we will not look above or below for
forgiveness, my friend. We stand strong on our own. With or without you."