Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 253

However, the sun didn't bless us for long, and soon the sky filled with thick, disappointing
rain clouds. Bolts from the gods started to strike from the edge of the heights right down
onto the unsettling waves. The high wooden poles started to shake and creak. Chaos
drowned the wet wooden decks. People scurried, slipped over, then crouched down with
fists protecting their heads. Crates rolled, tripped over the wooden bars, and were dumped
hard into the waves. I climbed clumsily back into the cabin, and stumbled straight onto
the wooden beds, CLONK, between those two somebodies in shock and fear.
The wooden masts cracked and tore apart. The ship started to bank on one side. It was
not a good sign. Realising that one of the mates had already jumped onto the ladder out
onto the deck, we swiftly followed.
The main mast cracked, fell tilted and drunk, uncovering the raw birch core under the
heavy blowing rain. The dark grey sail was torn into pieces, helplessly attached to the end
of the pole. We combatted our way through the gusts, supporting ourselves on the heavy
beams. Very soon I my body was paralyzed... I could no longer feel anything. It got
darker and darker. Voices became muffled…
3
I woke up from a deep sleep, but still felt exhausted. Some sailors laid on the filthy, wet
wooden planks like dead fish. There was a sharp pain deep in the center of my skull, my
soul felt as if it had been pulled out and thrown into the ocean.
I looked pointlessly among the never-ending waters… With delight, I saw the edge of
the sea. Land, o' land , an existence I've waved goodbye to two full moons ago. I sat up
despite the splitting headache, almost losing balance. But at least I saw green, the colour
I've longingly missed.
Beached, the few of us that survived stepped onto the foreign soil, onto this unnamed
piece of land. It was unfamiliar to step on solid ground.
4
Over the next few days puffed and purple bodies washed ashore. I sat on the black sand
with the broken ship, the injured sailors and disheartened captain. Sun set in the far
distance, painting the broken, left over crates on the side in orange. The wind blew, the
waves tickled the shore, time passed through my helpless hands.
I took a deep sigh; sat down facing the open ocean; prayed to the setting sun – someone
would come to find us.