Five Sentence Fiction: Anchor


A few ships had made it home, but the increasing radio silence told us more were already lost. The blue and gray waves were now a frothy black and some had said, amidst the radio static, there were stretches where the water had turned to blood. We were, or very soon would be, alone in the middle of the Atlantic, waiting for whatever monstrosity prowled beneath those unfamiliar ebony waters. We cast anchor for the last time and waited… for we all agreed that if the ocean had died, we would die alongside her.

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