The Girl's Daydreams

Rainy days were the most welcomed weather for the girl. While many groan at the missed opportunity to gather with friends, the girl smiled behind frosted windows, looking at each crystal droplets of water that clung like delicate diamonds on the glass. She loved the chill of rain, the sweet scent of wet grass and soil. And if the weather was to her favour, she would watch the skies lit up with blinding streaks of lighting, or hear the thunders roll.

At times like this, she would drift off to her world of daydreams, hidden in the dark corners of a room. She would imagine on board a ship to a voyage, accompanied by a handsomely rugged sailor, a lovely singing mermaid and perhaps a white cat with fur as smooth as velvet. She dreamt of high, choppy and dangerous waves, where the sea was at war with them. How the ship nearly overturned and the mermaid brought a school of fishes to save them.
Sometimes, she and the sailor would spend intimate moments together, lying on the ship's deck whispering beneath stars. Maybe they wouldn't even utter a word, just held hands and gaze at the multitude of glimmering jewels that were strewn across the night sky and fall asleep with their cheeks side to side.

On fine weathered days, the white cat could be often seen strutting around the deck, showing off its glimmering silk fur in the sun. The girl could not resist running her hands between the ears of the cat and was often rewarded by a rumbling purr from the belly of the cat.
But on stormy days when the winds were rough, the girl and the cat would hide in one of the ship's cabins, huddled together while the waves crashed against the hulls. The winds would sing their melancholy songs, eerily resembling a somewhat forgotten tale of dead unfortunate sailors whose lives were taken by the hungry sea.

It wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience, for the girl had an imagination that could turn any unfavourable situation favourable, something she prided herself on. So she imagined the howls of the winds to be the melancholy tune of a bamboo flute and the rocking ship to be a rocking horse she played with when she was younger.

She would continue her daydream until the skies had cleared of their grey clouds and the sea had calmed. By then, the girl and the cat would have been shivering and wet from the seawater that had seeped in but they didn't mind, not in the slightest bit. The girl had made up a story during their wait in the cabin and being the great storyteller she was, both of them were dazed as they passed the door to the ship's deck, still lost in their made-up world.
When night fell upon them, dark and bitter cold, the girl and the sailor would be swaddled in thick fur coats, seated on a hearthrug in front of tiny a fireplace while watching the amber flames dance.

They would drink hot tea, made from dried jasmine petals, until they were warm and beading with sweat. And when the fire died down to a weak flame, they would have been asleep by then, their snores soft compared to the crashing of waves. The cat, however, would be out on the deck, it's eyes glinting in the pale moonlight.