The cold steel presses tightly to my palm as I hang desperately onto the railing.  This ship is going down and I am struggling hard not to join the tables and chairs flying past me into the deep.  The prow of the ship is rising ever closer to a perfect 90 degree angle to the knashing current and my fingers are getting tired.  One more table breaks free from its mooring and flies past, taking with it the unfortunate few who held onto its slick metal legs for support.  I lash out with my free hand to grab hold of a woman flying past me and catch her by the wrist, almost breaking my grasp on the railing and most assuredly dislocating my shoulder in the process.  Pulling with all the might I have left I drag her against the force of her own gravity to the bar next to me.  She reaches out and clings feverishly to her iron salvation, weeping.  The silver shimmer of her ball gown reflects the lights from the fires that had broken out just before this heep split in two and began its slow decent.  That silver reflected sheen of a raging inferno that, if the tide didn’t take us, would surely be the end for us both, is one of the most beautiful things I have seen in my rapidly shortening life.



Edited by: Sparkles


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