The Storm
I think I must have hit my head. There was certainly a lump on the back of it, and it was very tender. I felt groggy, and the bumping motion of the boat added to my dizziness. I looked around trying to take my bearings. I hadn't remembered being on a boat.
It was hard to see. Fog was everywhere and in the distance everything looked a filmy white. I had a sense of being closed in by that whiteness, as if high cliffs of white chalk or white ice separated me from every other living being.
In the distance I could hear a great roaring. A waterfall perhaps, or a giant cascade. Obviously, I was in a dangerous situation. If I only knew what was the right course to take.
I was becoming more clear-headed, but at the same time more aware of the tremendous heat and how uncomfortably damp my clothes were. Ahead I could make out in the mist a large white bobbing object. Apparently not an iceberg, as I first thought. No iceberg could survive these temperatures. It was coming closer. In color it was slightly yellowish; dense looking, not translucent as ice would have been. Its sides were very regular, very slick and shiny. It had a curious rectangular shape, and its constant bobbling told me it did not have a huge mass below the surface like an iceberg would have had. It appeared capable of capsizing me, and its crazy, reckless movements were bringing it closer and closer.
I took stock of my boat. Plastic! I have never seen a boat such as this one that I was stranded on. Garishly colored kindergarten red and blue, it had a totally useless plastic sail. Two spindly oars were all that was available to me to try to maneuver.
I took up the oars, but it was too late. I was being overcome by heat and a frightening inability to breathe. The air was hot but sickly sweet. The fog and the noise were becoming greater and greater. Then I saw what terrified me most of all -- a huge white bank of some kind of foam was advancing on me! Frantically I tried to paddle, but my grip had become slippery and the oars flew from my hands. I was panting, trying to get air. The wall of foam had already swallowed up my bobbing "iceberg." I stared at it, petrified. It was upon me -- slimy, steamy, sticky. I began to gulp great gasps of air -- a horrible taste filled my mouth. Everything was going black, I was fainting . . . .
I awoke to calm. I was covered with sickly goo, but alive. The rocking of my little boat was gentle; the roaring noise was gone. In its place I could hear a quiet gurgle, like waves lapping a distant shore. Hopefully, I peered over the side of the boat. Mounds of white foam floated on the water, but appeared not to be moving towards me. In fact, they seemed to be diminishing. Countless soft 'pfsst' sounds indicated the bubbles were breaking down. Perhaps soon I would find my way out of this terrible sea.
Exhausted, I lay back in the boat and let the slow current pull me along. Around me everything was misted and white and still.
The gurgling was becoming louder and I discerned a new dimension to it -- a dreadful sucking sound. Could I be headed for a whirlpool, a fearful maelstrom such as Odysseus and his faithful crew had encountered? Again I hurriedly took up my oars. I needed to get away.
All in vain! My boat is being pulled backwards faster and faster! Now it's spinning crazily! Ahead I see the iceberg, smaller now, but still dangerous. We seem to be on a collision course! All the fear and dread that I felt before are coming back to me tenfold. What is this place? How did I get here? How do I get out? Why can't I breathe?
Horrible sounds are now coming to me from far away . . . deep, resonating sounds. The whole earth is vibrating, and the sucking, slurping pull of the water is pulling my boat down. Help! Somebody help! . . . And then I saw it, the final agony . . . I can take no more! Terror has gripped me and now I'm screaming and screaming! It's a foot! A giant, hairy foot!
Mrs. H
Petersen School