The deck of the ship lurched forward, and the sailor felt himself slipping across the hard wood planks, soaked from the salt water that spilled over them with each fresh wave that swept against the hull, launching ice-cold spray flying towards the tips of the masts and then crashing down again onto the ship. His grip tightened around the rigging which was his only point of reference, blinded as he was by the rain and spray and stinging salt that struck and stuck in his eyes. "Hold on!" he shouted into the roaring wind, more to himself than his shipmates, who like him were deafened by the fury of the storm. Freeing one of his frozen hands from the rigging long enough to scrape his rigid fingers across his face and eyes, the sailor saw for a brief moment the mayhem unfolding across the ship. Alternately slipping and sliding, sailors flew in desperation along the length of the decks, trying to hold the ship together by cutting away at anything which offered the storm purchase. Ropes, frayed by the sawing, snapped as they gave into the storm's might, and the sails began to flap wildly like white flags signalling surrender. Once each rope holding a sail was broken, the sail would leap into the air immediately, free at last from the shackles of the ship. First the fore sail flew, then the rear, their ropes whipping through the air like striking serpents. Finally the crew began to work on the main sail, with its ropes coiled thickest and longest. As the sawing and snapping continued, the last of the ropes tying down the main sail broke and with belowing flaps the sail took flight, chasing after its sisters. It flew highest into the air, and, as the others disappeared into the storm, it suddenly summersaulted and was swept downwards by the wind, reversing direction towards the ship. As it hurtled down upon the deck of the ship, the sailor was struck by how white the sky had become and the way in which it seemed to be falling. Falling onto and around him, wrapping him in its billowing embrace. And then then he was in the water, gasping and thrashing and drowning.
The Sailor: Prelude
7 years ago in #fiction by wordsarewind (33)
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I was gripped by the urge to write a tale on the high seas, and this is hopefully just the beginning. Enjoy this taste of more to come!