The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The bone-chilling had made it difficult to move or listen to the captains'orders "Why couldn't he just expire now and forget trying to save our souls?" I thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts. If I could only save my hands from freezing and hold onto some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my favourite leather clogs. This eerie sensation felt like a ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a comforting dry sense of bitter sweet nostalgia. The boat's engine sounded its metallic grating noise, painfully etching my cortex with a thousand regrets. With these plummeting temperatures and frozen ice waters surrounding us how could anything live, let alone the man-made idols of technology.
There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature within the last hour alone. The frozen rain was heating my face with sharp stings and nettles. The cold frozen night had a thousand insults to throw in our faces. Our bodies were thread bare by now, barely holding onto life.
There was no town left to bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, and the rain turned to cover my face with a shroud of ice from the cold, cold grave. Death was beginning to win.
Over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer layers of every surface on the earth the element of a frozen blue orb pursued us."Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate anger. There was no one alive who could help us now. We were being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea swells.
( group...what should happen next?)With the Flood by Jane Jones c2008
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it
quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold
death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid
frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would
complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel
as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his
own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after
relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting
sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern
town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The
bone-chill had made it difficult to move or listen to
the captains' orders. "Why couldnt he just expire now and
forget trying to save our souls? I dont want heroic measures!" I
thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts.
If I could only I could save my hands from freezing and hold onto
some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it
the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a
dry one. The sad engine began to choke from the plummeting
temperatures. There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature
within the last hour alone.
When we needed it the most the frozen rain was heating my face with
stings and nettles of a thousand insults. There was no town left to
bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, unmoveable in my
mind's analytic conclusions. The rain turned to ice on my face and
over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer
layers of every surface.
"Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate
anger. There was no one alive who could help us now.We were
being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea
swells.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this
has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this
dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping
around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut
the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just
felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my
favourite leather clogs. This sensation felt very errie, like a
ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its
human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
( group...what should happen next?)
With The Flood (group please critique!) ty!!! Message List
Reply | Forward | Delete Message #36143 of 36148 < Prev | Next >
With the Flood by Jane Jones c2008
The faulty powerboats' motor was about ready to call it
quits, the last attempt to save us from a freezing cold
death. The water below was beginning to set into a solid
frozen mass reminescent of the last iceage. The wind would
complete our fate.
The Captain had continued to forward this creaking vessel
as best he could, but now the hand on the wheel was not his
own. As he tried to command the guileless craft, wave after
relentless wave hit the sides of the boat. We were drifting
sideways down the wide flooded streets of the northern
town, once dry as a bone.
My frozen face, a contorted grimace of pain and fear. The
bone-chill had made it difficult to move or listen to
the captains' orders. "Why couldnt he just expire now and
forget trying to save our souls? I dont want heroic measures!" I
thought to myself trying hard to fight my mind's negative thoughts.
If I could only I could save my hands from freezing and hold onto
some desperate hope for survival, we might live.
Why did the engine begin to stall right when we needed it
the most? Certainly fate has a sense of humour, if not a
dry one. The sad engine began to choke from the plummeting
temperatures. There must have been a 20 degree drop in temperature
within the last hour alone.
When we needed it the most the frozen rain was heating my face with
stings and nettles of a thousand insults. There was no town left to
bail out, all was submerged under a sledge of ice, unmoveable in my
mind's analytic conclusions. The rain turned to ice on my face and
over the captain's frozen blue lips and over the outer
layers of every surface.
"Why did I get into the boat?" I asked myself in desperate
anger. There was no one alive who could help us now.We were
being ripped apart by wind, rain and the approaching sea
swells.
This night had enveloped my mind, making it seem like this
has happened to me before, endless times. Dreaming this
dream over and over again. I could feel the wind sweeping
around my bare ankles and sore achilles tendon. I had cut
the back of my ankle getting into the boat, and now I just
felt the pain. My sockless feet were wet and numb in my
favourite leather clogs. This sensation felt very errie, like a
ghost of the sea coveting my skin and trying to claim its
human prize. Who would be the victor tonight?
( group...what should happen next?)
Mon Apr 14, 2008 11:02 am
Show Message Option
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
View Source
Use Fixed Width Font
Unwrap Lines
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"jannneee2121"
jannneee2121
Offline
Send Email
Forward | Delete Message #36143 of 36148 < Prev | Next > repost chicco nov30 08
No comments:
Post a Comment