By: Michael A. Arnold

Through the wide trading–flood they went, bow to stern lashed by rain, pointed at the unknown.

The whale–country was wild, waves raging, darkness descending; a monster rose to beat them. 'Erickson! Get down!' was shouted as the watery beast slammed down. Their vessel was drowned, but resurfaced. All eyes looked to the mast. Still standing tall, thank God.

He heaved himself up, rain heavy, to hold the mast. 'We can't take much more!' Erickson could barely hear his own voice.

The ship fell into a valley, so fast wind and rain ran screaming through them, forcing Erickson's eyes shut. It was hard to breathe. Soon they were flowing toward heaven.

'Hold on, lads!'

Then they were weightless.


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