Evening in Elan

The red and white sails rippled slowly in the calm evening breeze. The purple sky was stained with white clouds drifting lazily across the vast expanse of open air. The wood under foot creaked as you strode along the ancient ship’s bow, fingers running over the railing few travelers before you had touched. 

Distant cries of multi-winged birds tip-toed over the deck as the ship began its descent. You leaned over the railing, fingers holding tight the wood beneath, and peered at the deep blue ocean that resided far beneath your airship. With an excited smile you straightened up and, clutching your bag at your side, watched the white sand beaches rise up to meet your vessel. 

The ship rocked as it made contact, and thick hempen ropes were tossed overboard. Calloused tan hands grabbed them and wrapped them around bleached stumps, weathered by salt air and the occasional splash of seawater. The ship was secured to the island, and you were allowed a safe departure from the airship. 

The sand was soft beneath your bare feet. You strode along the beach following a loosely-curving path that crawled up the sandstone cliffs towards the cheerful music above. Twinkling orange lights lit the windows of the monolithic structures of the village. Hermifrie, the village in the clouds. 

Turquoise water lapped at the shore as the sand gave way to smooth pavement. You worked your way up the white-brick path towards the cliff-side village. As you crested the rise, colorful banners of pink, yellow, purple, blue, green, orange, and red fluttered in the gentle evening breeze. 

You strolled down the wide path towards the center of the village, where you were greeted with lithe bodies dancing among an ensemble of stringed instruments. Loose cloth covered the people as they danced, hand in hand, step by step. Young children and the female village elders sat in chairs to the side crafting elegant flower crowns. As you passed the gathering, a child approached with a purple flower crown in hand. You kneeled as they placed it atop your head, and gave them a small hug before they scampered off into the din of the nightly celebration.

The path led onwards, past large glass storefronts displaying assortments of knick knacks, from lopsided children’s toys to intricately-carved figures made of recently-collected driftwood. Lights, candles, and olive tree branches were prevalent. Sometimes streets were canopied by large living tree branches, which held glowing fruits and paper lanterns. 

You continued to follow the shadow-dapped path towards a cliffside cafe. The staff were elegantly dressed in crisp black suits and flowing white dresses. A lovely woman with thick black hair pulled back in a loose braid approached you. She took your hand and guided you to a large table at the farthest point of the cafe’s patio. The wood still smelled of the forest, and the strands of the tablecloth shone silver as the light danced across it. The awning overhead was crafted of wood and had detailed columns that rested on the white stone wall keeping the courtyard contained. You settled into your table and took in the fresh aroma of the sea salt, and lost yourself in the flickering of the single-stalk candle that rested in the center of your table. 

You scooted it to the side as you stretched your arms across the table and rested your head on your elbows. The blue water was beginning to take on hues of fushia and purple as the sky above mirrored the same colors. The sun was no longer visible on the horizon, but the remnants of its light refused to sink just yet. Playful stars peeked from behind the clouds and waved hello as the tantalizing scent of spanakopita tickled your nose. 

You began to eat, slowly at first, but then picked up the pace as dish after dish of perfectly prepared food was brought out. 

By the end of it, your plates were clean and a happy, sleepy smile rested comfortably on your face. 

The woman returned to ask about your meal. You thanked her and offered to pay, but she declined. Instead, you were shown to the front of the restaurant where the path continued onwards. At the highest point of the village rested a thick grove of trees, which on their branches hung more of the glowing fruit. 

You pressed onwards, hearing the tone of the village shift. More orange candlelight lit the residential windows as the shops began to light up for the evening. The music shifted to take on a more flowing melody, a slow journey of which one could drift off to sleep. 

You worked your way up the soft incline to the grove of trees. The white bricks gave way to soft green grass, and the music was accentuated with the nearby chirping of sleepy crickets. Swinging between the boughs of the glowing trees was a white hammock. It rocked slowly to and fro in the breeze, inviting you to take a load off in its careful arms. 

You allowed yourself to fall into its plush embrace, smiling even more as your head touched down on a soft pillow. With your hands behind your head and the warm evening breeze rocking the hammock, you sighed. The sky was no longer a vibrant myriad of colors, but was instead a black abyss covered with a smattering of twinkling stars. The distant, rhythmic sound of the ocean slapping against the shore began to take the place of the music, and as your eyes drifted close, you were completely content.