The Captain coughed up another gulp of sea water, slapped himself fully awake and re-asserted his grip on the wooden statue that kept him afloat. He chanced a look around but there was nothing but water and sky surrounding him. His crew, his ship and the cargo they carried had been brutalized by the wind and the waves some nights ago but the sea had swallowed the evidence. He and the statue, an artist crude rendition of Maria Magdalena that The Captain straddled in heretic shame, was the only two things that remained above the yawning blue.
The Captain wondered how many days had truly passed. He wondered when the sharks would come.
There were moments when it felt as if the sharks had already come and devoured him. Moments when he was sure he'd already drifted below from exhaustion, died and awoken in purgatory.
The Captain wondered how many days had truly passed. He wondered when the sharks would come.
There were moments when it felt as if the sharks had already come and devoured him. Moments when he was sure he'd already drifted below from exhaustion, died and awoken in purgatory.
The endless horizon made sanity slippery but The Captain was lonely enough to let it slide. He sighed and hugged the Maria Magdalena close. The sun made her warm and she smelled of wet wood. Splinters caught The Captains beard and hands.
"Be real", he whispered to her.
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