Lost at Sea 3

For the first time in all of the 25 years of your life, your feet step off the island on which you were born. The deck of the ship rocked under your feet, and you steel your nerves against your fear of the sea. You couldn’t back out now, after paying a year of savings for passage on a ship sailing to Solmara. You were determined to make it there, to study at their famed university, and break free from the life you’ve been living. You square your shoulders and march towards the tiny bunk you are assigned, equal parts excited and terrified. Only halfway through the journey, you would give anything to get to Solmara. The waves were not the problem, but the ship itself. You sometimes wondered how anyone on the ship had ever managed to get hired. To escape the awful smell, you climbed onto the bow of the boat. From the vantage point at the front of the ship, cool air washed over you. The only reason you felt comfortable sitting there was due to the dinghy strapped underneath, which should catch you if you fall From your safe spot on front of the ship, you hear a commotion behind you. You twist around to see a man running from one of the ship mates, who brandishes his sword. As they sprint, they barrel into everyone and everything around them. The man knocks over a pile of gunpowder on hand to protect them from pirates, the ship mate slices through the ropes holding the sails in place. The wind begins throwing the ship about, as more deck hands join in the fight. The man runs past you and onto the very tip of the bow. And somehow, that gunpowder slips through the cracks on the deck, and right into cook’s fire down below. A chain reaction begins, as each pile of gunpowder beside each cannon explodes and sets off the next. You are thrown into the water far from the ship, and can barely tread water. Kicking off your shoes, you flounder around for anything that floats, grateful to be a strong swimmer. To your surprise, the dinghy is near you and unbroken. You pull yourself aboard, trying to catch your breath. When you finally regain some strength, you look around. No oars, and the dinghy would be too wide for you to paddle by yourself anyway. When you sit up to look around, the flaming remains of the ship are already far from you, the loose sails pulling it away. Around you in the water floats boxes, flaming rope, pieces of the sails, some oars, and - only one survivor, barely clinging to a scrap of wood.