The waves rose like hands. They reached high up to the sky with grey fingers and hurled itself downward, it’s palms enveloping the ship that rocked on its arms. The sky exploded with thunder, bolts of light that illuminated the world for a split second. Dark clouds covered the blue of the evening, rain a nonstop gush of nature’s tears. The world shook with the storm, trapped by its rage.
The men on the ship were not any better. Rags hung on their sunken bodies, their teeth crooked, an alarming look all buzzing in their eyes. They swayed on the boat, their eyes blank and dead, mouths open and skin numb. Their bodies were not their own, their mind far away to the peace that they had once known. Their memories were blurred and had become a series of images, as if their lives were something from long ago. Through their trip across the great waters, they left a piece of themselves with every mile further from home. Their hands became tougher. Their eyes wicked. Salt on their tongues. Stripped from what they knew. Minds weakened. The isolation of the water tremored their blood until there was no feeling in both mind and body. The waters changed them all. They wanted peace.
A wave rose, nearly grazing the sky with its blackened formed. It stood so high some fell back as they strained their necks to watch with amazement. When it rose to its full length, they stopped. They stood there, and opened their arms, their eyes closed. They waited for that powerful hit they knew all too well, for that alarming pain, but then the peace that followed.
The wave came down. The ship groaned and the sails snapped off like twigs with a snap that echoed over the waves. The water covered nearly all of its surface until it fell onto its side. Another wave hit, and the boat was completely submerged underwater. When it resurfaced, it bobbed for a few seconds. The sea wrapped its arms around it, and never let go.