Sailor Take Warning

Carla reached out, trembling. She touched her index finger to the horizon line.

“Smudge it, smudge it!” they cried, tongues waggling, jumping up and down with their arms and legs flying in odd, twisted directions.

She hesitated then swiped her finger to the right, smearing the green ocean into the blue sky.

“Red it! Red it! Red red red!” Their voices grew loud, shrill. Laughter jangled in random bursts and soon they had all caught it up, giggling, shrieking, cackling. They thrust splinters of bone at her, jostling each other. “Red it! Red it!”

Sticking her palm onto a random piece, Carla winced as her hand poured out blood. The lucky one shouted in triumph and brandished his stained bone to the others.

Carla bit her lip and placed her hand into the sky. She withdrew, leaving a red palm-print that dripped tendrils of color into the ocean. She hissed as a sharp sting marked her wound and stepped away to look at the result.

“More!” They pushed her toward the painting.

Carla nodded and pressed her cut against it again, wiping her blood into the sky over and over until all the blue had been swallowed by her crimson. She turned back to them and showed her clotted hand.

Howling with delight, they danced, feet pounding the packed ground, sometimes clapping, sometimes linking arms with each other. They yelled and wailed and hooted, drumming on their chests or on others,’ with no discernable rhythm. One leapt and kissed Carla, hard, but otherwise they ignored her, instead throwing themselves into their frenzy.

She stood to the side, whimpering as fresh pain sparked through her hand and the sky dripped red around her, wondering if it was worth it.