Holy Infant - Unmoored

trying to make sense of the vast sea spreading out in every direction. Suddenly a point in the distance matches one on your map. Motioning to your crew with sudden urgency, tensions begin to mount. Turning the map around and around you hope it isn’t true. It can’t be possible. But no, everything matches up. You look out over the horizon, knowing that this time it isn’t just a horizon. The harder you squint, the clearer it becomes. The sun hitting the distant waves turns to water cascading over a rocky cliff, and you are increasingly certain your suspicions were not misplaced or excessive.

You look out at hopeful faces of your crew glimmering in the summer sun, blissfully unaware of the calamity they are about to endure. Looking once more out to sea you close your eyes and slowly suck in the cool salty air, preparing for the hardest conversation you will ever have. Haltingly, you turn back towards your men and gather up courage, ready to impart one last bit of wisdom. You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a stuttered and quiet, “It’s the end.” The faces of the men quickly change from admiration to confusion.

uNmoored, ANONYMOUS, 20XX