The Sea

A ship tries to survive a storm at sea.

The Sea

 

  The treacherous sea roiled before the crew, rising up in great crests to shower the thirteen souls with frigid water. The black water boiled as the dark clouds fumed across the night sky, cutting out any trace of the celestial lights.

  One of the men shouted an order to his comrades, as a gust of wind reached across the deck, snatching the words from the air before the other sailors could hear them. A loud crack of thunder smashed across the heavens, rolling off into the distance.

  The small craft climbed up one of the incoming waves, reaching for the sky, begging to stay afloat before the wave could crash down upon her and submit her to the depths. The storm bellowed at this outrage, seeing the ship crest the wave and speed down its backside.

  Freshwater pounded down from the yet roiling clouds, separating the men as if by curtains draped from the sky, smashing down in great volleys to refill again the ocean that had given up its own lifeblood to create this storm. Shimmering beads of liquid fell and were lit like a million shining suns as a bolt of lightning stretched its hand from one end of the sky to the other.

  Another of the crew cried out in the infantile language of man, his weak diaphragm struggling to outstrip the wind, rain, and crashing of the sea. He ran across the deck towards his friend who was struggling with a rope, but was tossed to the metal plating by a treacherous wave. Casting him down and carrying him to the edge of the ship where he struck the railing and held fast.

  He cried out for help, and several of his shipmates came running to assist him as another flash of lightning ripped the heavens asunder, crashing down with the voice of the earth, raging against the mortals who dared to defy the mighty sea.

  The ocean reached out her hand and struck at the men, who were now floundering as they tried to retrieve their friend from the edge of the abyss. Nothing but death lay outside their puny metal shell, and the twelve men above deck knew this without a doubt. The ocean is a harsh mistress, and shows no mercy to trespassers.

  Below the deck, the ocean knew, lay a thirteenth man, who as of yet had not dared to climb outside of his hole, had not dared to defy this great storm.

  The ocean listened as the man who had so nearly fallen to his death looked to his friend and spoke, “Where is the master? Does he yet sleep?”

  “SLEEP?” Cried the storm, renewing her wrath and dashing the ship to and fro with a fresh burst of waves.

  One of the men disappeared below the deck, as a series of lightning flashes struck near the ship, deafening those aboard the small craft with the roar. “Die! Learn thy horrors and die!” The thunder bellowed, echoing across the vast sea.

  She gathered a great fist unto herself, preparing to deal a death blow to the men. From deep within herself she gather a welling of strength, and with a great gust and sigh she unleashed a furious wind that ripped and tore, lifting the men nearly off their feet.

  A thunderclap stole the breath from their lungs with its heaviness and a slash of lightning stole their sight, just as she began to slowly roil and unleash her mighty hand, weaving a wave tall enough to dwarf the little craft, preparing it to smash down upon them, and end their pathetic struggle. “Wake sleeping man!” She cried, “Wake!”

  And then, as the craft crested a wave she saw Him, a man ragged and unshaven had climbed to the top deck and looked around calmly, reaching out his hand he said, “Why dost thou rage harlot? Peace, be still.”

  Suddenly, her heart froze within herself. The rage disappeared as she looked at the man, heard his voice, a voice she recognized from long ago, at her beginnings, which was before any other beginnings. “This is the master,” she whispered, letting her hands fall to her sides, the winds subsiding, the waves dropping into the depths of the sea, the clouds calming and watching attentively.

  The man turned to his shipmates, “Why are you so afraid? Where is your faith? Do we not have a purpose?”

  “Who is this?” One man asked his companion in hushed tones, “That even the wind and waves obey?”

  Above, the moon peeked through the simmering clouds, as the sea and the sky spoke to her, “Do you see? This is the Son of Man.”

  The ship had leveled out and began to carry on its way, the crew still marveling at their companion.

 

Reviews

[Marie]

Tremendous imagery of a storm...illumned with a light, not overtly but delicately shining..

[TheTragicOffense]

Thank you for taking the time to read it and comment.