She shuddered from the force of the storm. The skipper at her helm keeping her facing the waves. The crew’s knuckles white holding on with every fiber of there body. Blinded by the sea spray the skippers eyes are the only to penetrating the storm. She shudders as another waver breaks over her bow. Water rushes over the decks enveloping the crew who strive to hold on. There life lines wipe in the wind. A half inch nylon rope lashing them to her deck. The crew’s only insurance from the freezing seas. Three minutes in the icy waters will cause hypothermia five minutes death. The storm is so strong the skipper could never turn her and recover a lost crew. As soon as anyone hit the icy waters they are claimed by the sea. The inevitable fate to those who live on the oceans. No head stones only the faceless sea and all of her disciples. Another wave breaks over the bow deluging the crew in icy water. They shiver as their dry suites are penetrated around their necks.

For six hours they have fought the storm from her carbon fiber decks. Exhaustion sapping the strength of the crew but the skipper remains vigilant. He has never felt more alive and content. He knows this is his place doing battle with the Oceans. Keeping her facing the storm he steers through the waves. She rises over another thirty foot wave only to drop into another’s belly. Emotionless demons grabbing at her rigging and decks. She strains to rise again and she explodes through another peak. The crew tack her sails as she turns through the waves. She tells the skipper to go more starboard. He commands the crew to dress she is luffing. They lash lines to the winch drums and the gears turn. Her hydraulic’s ache as thousands of pounds are pulled in. The water is forced out of the soaking lines from the tension. Her sails are full again as she drops into another wave. The sun is setting now and the crew know storms are infinitely more dangerous in the dark. Its harder to see the waves coming and in these confused seas she must face the waves head on or she will swamp. One wave over her stern will swamp her. Flooding her cabins locking the sail handlers below while she sinks. A deadly embrace as they dive together. The crew would reach for there leg knives to cut away from her sinking decks. Her lines grabbing there limbs as they try to swim to the surface. Only to freeze to death in minutes. The skipper wouldn’t cut away, not with men below. He orders raise the storm jib and prepare for night sailing. A flurry of activity ensues in perfect unspoken coordination as sails are dropped switched and storm jibs are raised. The skipper rests his crew as he and his girl enter the storm. Blinded by the darkness he must listen to her as they dance through the waves. She moans and cracks as she is hit by waves telling the skipper to adjust his course for each wave. He feels her roll through the water and he keeps her level. Every ten seconds another rise and another fall. As they cross the ocean together. The electronics have been flooded so with no navigational gear except his compass, glow stick, and intuition he steers her through the storm. Her body language his guide.

Hours pass yet the skipper is attentive to his girl. The crew exhausted from weeks of racing and more weeks to come try to sleep below deck. The utmost confidence in their skipper and his girl. The skipper takes another drag off his e-cig since the sea spray extinguishes his Marlboro reds. He has been awake for 48 hours predicting a path through the storm as they approached it. Holding his girl on course they have gained three hundred miles in the race by his navigation through the storm. Only three other racers entered the storm one lost a mast and was forced adrift. The other turned and ran out the way they came after losing two crew to the indiscriminate depths. The skipper and his girl have taken the lead around cape horn and the final leg, of the Atlantic, is all that remains from victory for his country his crew and his girl. The sun rises and he sees a break in the storm “Not yet he says” The oceans don’t want him yet. The warm sun hits his face, he closes his eyes caresses the wheel and thanks his love. Aurora has gotten him through another storm. Some day they will go down together but not yet. Not yet…

P.S. This was the epic music I found today to help me write this. Wanted the epic tale so needed the music to match.

Sail hard disciples…

3 thoughts on “Aurora

  1. Having spent many years sailing the Pacific I found this story interesting. I want to for liking “Murder Sets Sail – Excerpt 2” on As I mention in the post, it will be out later this year. – Aloha – pjs.

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