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Writer's pictureAnson Chan

The Stormy Sea




Chipping wood, denting metal, crushing stone - an atrocious monster unable to finish the boat off. Shaking uncontrollably, oars were slamming into the side of the vast vessel. Shooting off the helpless ship was an oar, snapped in half; it would have been shouting, screaming, writhing in extreme pain if it were alive. Winding the perilous waters, the oar penetrated its tough body. It flew out again, and smashed and splintered into the resistant lighthouse – making an antagonising scratch.


Blinking light out of its sockets in terrible agony, it tried its best to stand strong; stand strong against the punishing waves. Hailing upon it were liquid daggers. Stronger than any dagger by far, yet somewhat weaker than the metal blade. It had stood enough. It didn’t want anymore pain. With a resounding crack, the thick glass splintered – it couldn’t take anymore. Like a spray of bullets, the water kept biting, kept attacking. Unstoppable.


Zooming back with the waves, the very head of the once-whole oar disintegrated as a blinding strike of deadly power and crushing weight smashed down upon it. Who would have guessed the poor fate of that little oar? Furious and raging, the ferocious beast cried in victory as the vessel – no hopes left – swallowed it whole. And the proud ship was no more.


~ END ~



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