The tiny craft pitched and rolled with the waves. The sky was a dark blue with stripes of grey, and the water was a cold black. Racing winds whipped brine against Robert's cheeks. He was cold, wet, tired, and alone. He was ready to give up. Two weeks ago, he would've never imagined that this predicament was possible. Yes, he hated cruises and cruise ships, but he loved Tamara, and he was determined to enjoy his honeymoon. Now he had lost determination even to live. She'd sunk with the commercial liner two days ago. Robert, an infinitely small speck in the middle of a blue galaxy, curled up into a fetal position and died. It didn't much matter either way; he'd have joined his young wife soon anyway. There were holes in the lifeboat and a storm was coming. The wind picked up for a moment, spraying a salty blanket over the side of the small boat and onto Robert as he found his final rest. Then, the wind died down one last time before the behemoth waves broke and the sea continued on with its existence.
YOU ARE READING
Original Shorts
Science FictionThree short responses to a roll thread on /x/ from a long time ago. After the first three are five that I wrote out of the blue during the winter of 2013. Pick the one that interests you most, they can all be read as individuals.
