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Myth Dragon

United States

A Floridian girl who loves the games and the stories of the world. Stories are the best when they are from the heart.

Message from Writer

Hope the world is treating you well.


November 16, 2018

The inkwell sat perfectly on the desk of my cabin my father’s new boat, the S.S Inkhunt was a hunting boat, bigger than a normal vessel, but nothing out of the ordinary. I liked this vessel, but I hated living on the sea far more than most things, but the salt air made me feel better. I looked into the salty sea. Faron yelled, “There's a squid down there fellas!” I rolled my eyes. Men started piling with their hooks and harpoons trying to catch the poor thing. Every since the supply of ink was depleted my father went hunting the squids to sell it. “Fools” I muttered. I looked at them diving into the sea, through the window of the cabin. I turned back to my window and continued my drawing. I made my own ink. It was waterproof and my journal’s paper was also waterproof, but father never listened to my idea. I looked at my window even longer. I was hungry and I wanted something that wasn’t clam chowder. I walked away from my desk, grabbing my journal. I took it with me to most places, to record animals and other stuff. The most important thing to me was that journal. I finished the drawing of my inkwell. Then I walked to the stairs to find something to eat. After strolling on the deck, inhaling the air. The smell of the salt calmed my nerves, then a smell of soup. The soup made the same sickening smell as it did before, and the twenty nights before that. Chopper’s clam chowder. “Blugh,” I said aloud. I walked inside and scooped a bowl full of the chowder, it smelled like white cheddar and clams as always. I ate it, it was tasteless and my tongue desired something new. After a fast sketch of the night sky, using the star chart I recorded the constellations and planets. A large bang and crash told me that the men were back so I scurried back to my room and tucked myself in. The boat was rocking and shifting more than it did most of the time.
A jerk rocked my face to the wall from being in the bed. The world was fuzzy and as I rose up from the comfort of the bed the boat danced to the side and I stumbled. After changing into a coat and then dressing I walked to the deck. Then rain pounded loudly, “Dad, What’s going on?’ I yelled to my dad, he looked stress, his body was covered in water and I saw his stressed face, wrinkles from years of stress. Christopher Pollison, he was an intelligent man and experienced sailor who sailed a crew of ten through a hurricane and had plenty of support on being captain when this vessel was available. “A storm Dolphin, nothing this ship can’t handle.” My father yelled, he called me Dolphin.   boat swayed sharply, and I slipped causing me to hit the side. “Not my journal” Then it plummeted to the ocean. “Dolphin, don’t go, the ship is going too fast. I can’t slow down right now.” I glanced at him and his rusty red hair, like mine, was stuck to his head due to the rain. I dove straight in the water, the water was cold and refreshing, I grabbed my journal and swam faster to the anchor which I could climb to get up. I noticed the rust and the toll it took on it, no matter, I scrambled, book in hand to reach the boat then, Crack, the anchor give up snapping along one of the edges. “Dolphin!” My father yelled as I barely hold on to the side of the boat, it was rocking madly and the rain was pouring, my father ran towards me. “Dolphin the anchor it’s going to drag you down. Take this.” my dad gave me the ring, but I wasn’t in the mood for a ring, I wanted to be on the boat. My strength gave way and I was sinking fast. The chain of the anchor had my foot good and I was trapped, after struggling to free myself I slide the ring on and looked up, the salty water didn't bother my eyes and the lack of oxygen wasn’t one either for some reason. My lungs were asking for air, but I looked up at the boat, it was getting smaller and smaller, same with my consciousness. I looked at my journal as I was sinking. Each picture brought memories of the past, the monkeys were when the crew was on an island selling squid meat to a restaurant. I did like that boat, I hugged my notebook, and sank until my body was out of bubbles to release.


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