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She smiles because she is content, peaceful. Ever since she first started travelling, she has always wanted to take a full vacation all by herself; and now the moment is here. The ship is so large she can barely feel the roll of the waves beneath her. Sights and sounds of tomorrow fill her eyelids as she drifts to sleep.
Images of the palm tree swaying in the island breeze encapsulate her mind. She forgets that she is away from home, sleeping in a new place. The sea carries her through the night.
A jostle wakes her. Was it the shadow? Did it grab her? Where is she? What is happening?
Ten seconds with her eyes open and still shaken, she remembers her fabulous vacation. Another jostle throws her to the wall. Sharp pain fills her shoulder. The waves toss the ship. She feels like she is in a ping pong match.
Her cabin is a mess. Clothes and accessories are everywhere. Her face feels wet and she wonders if it was from the water that once stood on her bed stand. No time to check. An ear pinching alarm reaches her.
She recalls the noise from her muster drill earlier in the day and attempts to leave her stateroom. The dresser is on the floor. The pictures litter the room with broken glass and paradise. As a shroud rests in her hand she finds her way to the door. It is hard to balance. The hallway is crowded and everyone is using each other for support.
Before she can grab a lifejacket, the vessel tosses her to the unwavering water.
Mouth open wide gasping for survival gets water instead. She cannot open her eyes; the energy of the storm presses them close and holds her under. Her lungs feel bubbly and she fears choking. In her mind she can only hope that these bubbles will float her to the surface. How much longer can her body stand the submersion?
Her body bobs the surface. Thoughts are vacant and bleak. Too much is happening - too much sensation. All she can imagine is a vicious tornado made of water that has scooped her up and thrashes her about.
Spiraling toward unconsciousness, she fights. Arms and legs tingle. It is a familiar feeling she recalls from her younger days when she'd kneel until her legs fell asleep. Back then it was a fun feeling. Now it terrifies her. She needs a oxygen. She needs a breath.
A shake awakes her. It is unlike the jostle that woke her earlier. It is a hand. She lifts her head out of the now calm sea. Pieces of the ship scatter the waves. She grabs on to something, what it was before she is unsure. It is enough to keep her afloat for a moment. She spits, coughs, and can take a breath of air finally.
Ever felt shipwrecked? What lifted your head from the sea? What kept you above the swells?
