FELICIA HEILGENDORFF

“Gunfire! Gunfire! Everyone, to the guns!” the captain yelled against the roaring sound.

There was a scramble below decks, as everyone hurried to take position. The captain looked across the dark stormy sea, trying to figure out where the other ship was. So far, he could make out no distinct shapes, but at the way the rain was coming at them, it was hard to see anything at all.

“Captain, sir,” an uncertain voice said behind him. For a second he thought he had imagined the voice – the storm was raging far too loud to hear anyone – but when he turned around, one of the men stood right behind him, gripping the rail tightly, so that he would not get thrown over board.

“What’s wrong?” the captain asked, frowning at the worried expression on the man’s face.

“It ain’t gunfire, captain,” he replied. “It’s thunder.”

The captain was about to reply what nonsense this was when his eyes widened all of a sudden. Behind the man, the waves were stacked high up into the sky. Then they came crashing down on them. The cpatain never had a chance to reply.

© 2016

Sunday Photo Fiction, March 6th 2016