TITLE: The Weave
Water surrounds me.
It goes on for miles, on all sides, in every direction. Sometimes I
feel as though I'm being smothered by it--when it's been days without seeing
more than a sliver of a ridge. Other times it feels like a prison. Instead
of metal bars it's the icy water that keeps me captive on this hell boat.
I've been on the Delilah for less than a week and I'm ready to flee.
But I'll have to wait until we get to the outpost. It's not like I can just
up and bolt at an uneasy glare from the captain or the brutal mistreatment
of the first mate. Even if they find out I'm a girl I can't run.
My fishing pole slips through my fingers and clanks to the deck.
I snatch my pole and glance around, hoping no one has seen my
carelessness. I don't need another screech-fest from Johnson today. For the
moment I shake any thoughts of escape from my head. They'll be time to think
about it later, when I need something to distract me from the horror that
goes on in the Captain's quarters each night. Right now I need to catch
food. And there's not much time left before the first mate comes to gather
what little I've caught.
I reel in my line a bit and say a small prayer to the fish gods. Then I pray
there is a fish god.