“The ship’s bow rose as we climbed the Mount Everest size wave. We dangled atop the precipice while all around, rolling water raged.
Gray storm clouds billowed overhead, dousing the deck with bucket loads of rainwater as our vessel groaned. Sensing her fate, she threatened to crack, and we didn’t dare to breathe.
Over the edge, I glimpsed a multitude of creatures staring at me, before we tipped, sliding into the abyss. A deluge rushed into the void and collided with the rushing flood, pelting spray engulfed us.”
“Daddy, it was only a puddle.”
“A puddle to you, maybe.”
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Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer