Sunday, February 10, 2008
120 Seconds of Lit
He wrapped his coat tighter around his body, pulling his arms close as he struggled against the rain and wind, hugging the metal railing to his chest. He peered into the darkness, seeing lights far off. The lights blinked on and off as the gusts of wind and rain blocked his view. He tried to breathe shallow breaths to keep the freezing air from burning his throat and lungs. But every so often his body refused to obey, sucking in large gasping breaths, the salt water, rain and air causing him to gag. The choking sensation was almost more than he could bear and the coughing grew worse, making it even more difficult to control his breathing. The waves pounded the little boat, each crash threatening to throw him from his perch on the bow. They were making headway against the storm, but he had lost all track of time. He hadn't spoken to anyone since the storm grew worse but every so often he'd hear something from the radio in his coat pocket, and they still seemed to be headed towards the light, so if it could just hold on -- and if they could continue to make forward progress, they would be alright. He leaned hard against the post, closed his eyes and and let his mind drift, just for a second, to the thought of soup, but then quickly snapping them back open. If he didn't keep them open and they hit the rocks, that would be the end of it.