Short Stories

English Assessment

 So many days had passed. Too many to say the least. But that didn't change the turn of events that occurred only hundreds of hours ago. In fact, it had only emphasized it. You see, when a journey that is only meant to take a couple of days starts to stretch into weeks, due to interruptions... That is when it was clear something was wrong.

Whatever day it is, it is ending. The sun falling helplessly behind the overbearing clouds of cotton. A fiery glare of oranges and reds set the usually blue sky ablaze in the darkening sky. This was it! The end of another day. Even with the bright colours illuminating half of the sky from the glowing sun, it's still dark. There is no apparent shape of the sun, no circular outline, or beams gleaming from the origin, only a blinding light. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just light in the darkness.

Mirroring the light lay a seemingly calm ocean... peacefully calm... too calm... It is beautiful. The sunset, and the calm water, nothing could beat this. Saltiness wafted away from the sea, and into the air above, but dissipated into the gentle breeze. If anyone were to inhale this, they would immediately cringe at the pure salt that is being emitted from the water; it's overwhelming to say the least. Tones of fiery colours reflected off of the surface, bringing life to the dark blue (almost black) water, allowing the water to become completely opaque. There's nothing in sight below the reflective surface - no fishes, no seabed, no nothing.

Clouds cover the sky, blanketing the water below; they are parted like an old blanket full of holes. In front of the glowing orb, they are white, reflecting hues of pinks and oranges. But further away, they remain dark, dull, death-like. White, black, and varying greys coat the clouds, as if a mask covering their enchanting view. A horrifying sight to your average sailor.

A storm.

The forecast said that it is meant to be clear, and yet, there is a storm following the small silhouette that is the boat. Lightning hitting the water in flashes. Easily seen, and yet, uncatchable by photo. Each strike is clear, and solid, and near - drawing closer to the boat with each unnerving white flash. How could a scene so mesmerizing become so frightening? An incident like this is unlikely, to say the least. In front of the boat, a sunset, behind, a storm.

And in the middle of this vast site of nothing but water and air, lay the boat. Excessively plentiful in size when close by, and yet, compared to its surroundings, so minuscule. To get through the night that is to come, it will have to tackle the strong seas it may face, as well as the risk of the lightning strikes. But that didn't matter to the sailor, as he was experienced in boating, he had fought more than this pathetic storm before. So what is the problem?