Water drenched the wretched castaways as the waves consumed the sundered ship. The cold sea crept in all around them as the frothing, turning spill rose over their chests. Dark waters lay under dark skies, drowning the helpless men.
Clawing his way up the rough sands of an unmapped shore, a lonely survivor collapses onto his side, panting and coughing as the windy night air rushes over him. Shivering in his dripping clothes, he moans, gazing out at the wreck in the bay.
The tipping mast, the tattered sails, the crow’s nest slowly sinking ‘neath the waves; Here and there he sees other survivors swimming toward shore. Groaning, he forces himself up onto his feet. Past the white sands stands a tall and shadowy forest whose swaying trees seem to whisper malevalent secrets among themselves, whispering of the horrors awaiting beyond their boughs.
Over his shoulder peering, he glances again at the waves now tossing the dark shadows of the crew up and down as they swim for their lives toward the shore. Run, is all he hears. Run! He must run. Turning back toward the shadowy forest with its cryptic mysteries, the lonely survivor limps away into the darkness.
Tale Told 