Fiction: Those lost at sea


The waters are now still. Last night’s storm has left hundreds of lost souls floating around for miles. Some are looking up into the sun, like they are desperately asking him to bring life back to their cold pale bodies. A hundred ships sail in between. They despise every one of the drowned, fearing the mermaid’s song. It could be us, they think.

What does it take for a ship to sink?
What makes it heavy enough to go down?
Too much hate, too much fear?

I’ve seen many sailors going down with too much love as well.
Too much is always too much. There is not enough wind in the world capable of pushing sails of a ship filled with too much, it doesn’t matter what.

Unadaptable and dependent, there go the ships to the bottom.
Filled with promises and good intentions. The moral is up until the first gulf of water touches their throats. Even then, they enjoy its excess.

More, please, give me more. Shouts of desperate euphoria.

Screams from the ships docked at the piers shout “Don’t follow the lights”. They come hollow to their ears. They are too far.

Light is the best trap in the night.

It promises change. No more smell of dead fish rotting on the docks still waters.
Come to us and you’ll be always sailing on the stream.

Foolish sailors…
God bless your big hearts.
You leave us memory and example.
You become our art.


Sometimes I’m overcome by the feeling that you would sink into this deep ocean. In this big, wide nothing. Do you know the feeling? How was your feeling after this article?
We would love to hear about it. 

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