Arrival in Illyria

As the salty waters lapped against the side of the vessel, the sun beat down upon the deck. Light reflected off the shimmering swimming pool as the birds glided above our heads. With the mighty bow ploughing through the water as if it was only butter and not a cloud in the sky, it looked like it was going to be a good voyage; and, like the captain commented, “Twins bring good luck.” He was wrong.

Wind picking up speed, clouds rolling in, a storm had arrived. With the boat swaying and the heavens darkening, people were fearing the worst. As the sea got murkier and murkier, so did the hope of survival.

Out of the dark abyss, whirlpools formed! With the sky black as coal, screams were exploding from cabins and the only light around was lightning. Sailing upon waves towering above, we were in the sea’s turmoil. Then the noise that all of us were dreading: the hull had been ripped open. Gallons upon gallons of water were absorbed by the boat. It was going down.

Soon after, the storm died down and so did our boat. Bubbling down below the surface, the boat vanished from view. As the sun broke through the clouds, Sebastian was lost on the mast. He was gone.