Alternate title: Dude, Where’s My Boat?
Dear readers,
It’s taken a bit longer than I had expected, but I finally have another installment for you. This goes along with two other pieces in the same setting. I won’t claim that this is the final version of this story, but I do think it’s ready for your eyes. It might even, according to some of my proofreaders, be fun. Enjoy!
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Jerome lay on the sandy hill, exhausted. He had pulled himself up to the line of trees, above the high tide mark, and fallen to his knees before slumping over onto his back. The sun was slowly lighting the sky from beyond the horizon, turning the east pinkish gray in anticipation. Lifting his head, Jerome could see the ship breaking apart on the reef. Much of it was still afloat, but it was all wrong. The wood was holding together, but it had been so battered by the waves and rocks that the only piece he could recognize was the bowsprit. That jutted into the sky, waving back and forth like a flagstaff whipped by wind as the swell dropped it time and again in the shallow water. It had separated a while earlier, breaking off the forward hull with a sickening crack that he had heard across the water. Soon enough there would be nothing but fragments and scattered driftwood, carried off by the rolling waves. Jerome found the fate of the ship a fitting metaphor for all civilized accomplishments. Who could claim that they had made something which would last more than a few heavy storms without being constantly repaired and rebuilt? Everything slowly fell apart, even as people tried to hold it together.
His head dropped back onto the sand. This was probably just his fatigue talking. He knew that he wasn’t usually this unhappy. He watched as the darkness of the night sky fled across the heavens towards the western horizon. Then again, he reflected, he usually hadn’t just been shipwrecked and marooned, likely to die far from home on an island in the New Sea. It was enough to make him want to cry, but he was just too tired.
***



