Deckhands danced in organized chaos. Our seasoned captain barked orders above the storm’s incessant din. My stomach lurched in opposition to the bow’s rise and fall. Misty Gale surmounted rough waters as we ran from the storm, seeking safe harbor.
The ship’s hull slammed against unyielding water, her mizzenmast popped and groaned as her wind engorged sail dragged us towards home. Lightning crackled, and gumball sized hail descended from the heavens.
The gods answered my prayers. Misty Gale found her slip.
The captain winked, and a devilish grin fractured his wrinkled face.
“Ah, these are the days you live for.”
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Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer