The Best of the Brine

This one is much shorter than usual, I guess it should be read as an entry into a dying man's journal....

The Depths

Into the depths we sailors went. Broken and hopeless, staring into the never ending dark that would soon become our tomb. It was fitting for our lot, yet still burdensome.

The waters which had taken us to that place were rough and jarring. Almost every man had been lost, even the navigator. So we stared with empty eyes and forsaken hearts into the cold beyond which would swallow us whole.

"Every man for himself!" shouted a bloke from atop the rigging.

The chaos began as the ripples in the calm ocean laughed and lapped at the hull of the ship.

Words did not seem like enough to describe the sounds the bottomless monster made as it swept us away. Yet, words were all we had.

"Run!" screamed the captain.

"May God have mercy on our souls," breathed another.

It came for us as it always would, relentless and savage. No amount of words would stop it, because it did not know our words. It was much older than words. It had seen the beginning, and it would be our end.

The horizon had sunk beyond comprehension and sight. If this was what they had meant by the end of the world, than it was now believed by the entire crew of the ship. We had seen what only a few had set their eyes upon. To know that the world had an end, and that beyond it, there was only the depths was too much for our minds to bear.

But above the fear, we were there for the adventure. The ship would not turn around. Even if it would, could we go? We had seen where everything ends, and there was no going back from that.

"Look lads!" a booming voice lifted amongst the chaos.

We stopped and watched the waves fall over the plane, into...nothing.

"Grab hold!" the captain's broken voice ordered.

And we did.

But we had reached the end, and it was empty. So we did the only thing that sailors could do when the wind dies and the elements take the wheel.

We held on, and reveled in the ride.