A Perfect Storm
The sun was beginning to set, obstructed by the clumped clouds.
Elizabeth was sailing snail-like back towards the port. Her body was exhausted. She had been sailing since noon. She was slowly creeping along the waves, when she noticed that the clouds were darker than before.
A drop of rain hit the back of her hand, staying as a perfect sphere on her gloves. The green highlight warped ever so slightly. Elizabeth grimaced, and decided to move faster. She didn't want to get wet. She pulled on the sheet for the mainsail and let some of the rope for the jib out. With a resounding click from the stopper, she reinserted the rope.
Elizabeth saw it, before the noise rumbled.
Just as she finished with the stopper, a streak of light crashed down on a mountain top. It was less then ten kilometres away. This was getting dangerous.
Elisabeth's mast was the tallest thing out on the ocean. The boat would melt if hit, as it was made of nothing more than plastic.
Elizabeth got on task. Her hands were shaking so hard that she could barely see their outline. She utilised the strong wind from the storm and took off. Her two-hulled ship glistened white in the rain as she cut through the water.
The sky illuminated like a sheet, with a white light bulb flashing regularly behind it. Streaks of lightning poured down from the sky, almost as if it was raining light in short bursts. The towering waves crashed down around the seemingly tiny boat.
Elizabeth, using all of her fourteen years of experience, expertly manoeuvered her boat to ride the waves back to shore.
The boat quickly caught onto a wave, gracefully sitting at the crest. It was like a well-trained greyhound, majestic, but wild. One second the vessel sat at the top of the wave, but the next it was crashing down. Soaking everything on the boat, including poor Elizabeth. Fortunately, she would not let a bit of water put her down. Instead, she found other ways to keep up morale.
"Come on girl, almost there," she whispered out loud, as if her boat was in fact a horse.
She verbally urged her boat along once again, when to her right side she saw a flash. The streak of light was close. Too close. It struck once more in front of her eyes
A high pitched shrill noise that could shatter glass. Her eyes began to fill with tears. "Is this really the end?" she thought out loud.
Out of her blurry vision, she saw a shape. A black silhouette. Growing larger and larger. It was Edgar in a dinghy.
A tall and thin teenager, who was training to be a monitor.
Edgar had come to save Elizabeth. He was closing the gap between them quickly, and would be by Elizabeth's side any minute. Elizabeth had never been more relieved.
Envoyé: 20:27 Wed, 15 March 2023 by : Foyster Jemima age : 15