Short Story
The Crossing of the Blue Sea
By Richard Wen
A full moon lit amidst the misty winter sky that
night, its streams of luminescent lances piercing
through the soft shadows hanging above the dark sea.
The currents were pitch black, with rolling glints of soft
foam mulching through the cream-colored shores,
dragging and clawing away at the sandy beach. Just a
few miles off the coast, a single ship lay hidden from
sight, embraced by the chill of the season’s frosty garb.
“Chilly day, ain’t it, Henry?” said the captain, with one
hand tirelessly twirling the grey curls of his thick beard
as he carefully plucked out a canteen bottle from his
blue jacket. His subordinate stayed silent. Henry, a tall,
lanky man with droplets of rain glinting off his pale
brow probably knew his captain didn’t need a reply to
continue on with another one of his nostalgic tirades.
Surprisingly, this wasn’t one of those moments, and the
captain merely stayed silent with him. The deck of the
ship was empty, barren of life besides the two figures
standing on the rear, their view directed seawards to the
dark blue.
“Ho... finally ran out of stories, old man?” Henry said,
partly relieved and partly alarmed by the sudden
sol [[