It was not long, a few days at most, before we hit the storm
The first wave hits with ineffable force, knocking me off my feet
A well placed bolt of lightning took out a sizable portion of the ship and her passengers
The second wave carries them away, never to be seen again
Thunder crashes and the foremast falls to the sea
The third wave swallows it up
The captain remains stoic, shouting orders to what little crew he has left
The fourth wave strikes the starboard bow, some men are thrown from the edge
I grab hold of the rail, my grip strengthened by some primal fear
The fifth wave washes over me and I’m torn away
I thrash and struggle up to the surface and fill my lungs with air
The sixth wave takes me under again
Again I make it to the surface and climb onto a passing piece of wreckage
The seventh wave drags what remained of the ship to the ocean’s murky depths
At least the sound of thunder and rain blocks out the screams of drowning men
The eighth wave breaks
I remember how the ship once stood tall and proud
The ninth wave looms over me
I take a breath