SHORE OF DESTINY

April 1, 2019

Shore of Destiny

 

My current work in progress.

 

 

Thunderous waves crashed against a desolate shore. The white horses, tumbled, smashing into the limestone rocks. Sprays of shingle were thrown into the air masking the shoreline. And the threnody of the wind carried its lament of death. The shrieking cries of the gulls were silent as the noise of the tempest overpowered all sounds.

 

Only a drunken fool would dare beach a ship in this weather.

 

In the turbid bay, the three master, Seabird, groaned in the wind. With the sails torn and the ship listing to port, the master desperately held on to the tiller. Henry Adams prayed his ship would not succumb to the deadly hidden perils in the bay. Over decades many ships had sunk, dying in the arms of the reef’s wicked embrace.

 

Solitary footsteps had left a lonely trail over the hills behind the weathered sands. The ragged man sat sentinel on an outcrop of granite, his ice blue eyes seeking comfort, his gaze far away. But only empty images filled a troubled heart. Soaked by the relentless spray and almost frozen by the unforgiving wind, his soul refused to be crushed. Richard Adams sat, unmoving, his patience endless.

 

The ship’s hull grated over the topmost part of the reef. Taking in a huge lungful of air, the master thanked the gods for their deliverance. The waves were gentler now but he knew that worse was still to come. Ordering the nearest seaman to hold the tiller for a moment, the master looked at the waves crashing onto the shoreline. As Henry tried to find the safest route through the maelstrom, he guessed many of the local inhabitants were watching from the clifftop, biding their time, awaiting the inevitable shipwreck.

 

Without warning the wind dropped and the violent waves calmed. Thinking it was his only chance, the master changed course to let the wind blow his ship onto the beach. As the bows leapt up like a prancing horse, the timbers groaned with pain, the crew holding onto anything they could find.

 

It was time.

 

Richard stood up and waved. Men with swords and knives emerged stealthily from behind hidden boulders. He watched the Seabird pick up speed, flying towards the beach. And stopped. The lull in the storm had ended for one huge wave had appeared behind the ship and was relentlessly closing in. Oblivion loomed ever closer for the Seabird and there was nothing Richard could do about it.

 

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