The Edge

The little Caravel braves the raging waters and is tossed about every which way. Walking from the bow to the stern is like an uphill or downhill walk while being shoved and pushed from port to starboard. The storm raged on without any hope of being saved. For days, not a single bird has been spotted in the leaden skies. The crew talks more and more about the end of the world. Even though the captain insists that the world is a globe, nobody really believe him anymore. Even the officers, who should know better, start to doubt. The deck hand who is condemned to keep watch in the crow’s nest is feeling miserable and is about to pass out. With some effort he heaves himself up one more time. With one hand over his brow he peers into the hazy distance. As the first man in history, he witnesses the billowing white steam clouds hanging low on the horizon above the apocalyptic waterfalls at the edge of the world.

January Writing Prompts 14 January late morning

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