Another short story in 100 words for November: A drabble that tries to imagine how the Mayflower's passengers might feel during a storm at sea.
“But I’m sick.”
“But I can’t”
“But I just want to breathe.”
So he ran up the ladder and leaned on the hatch and collapsed in the rain-storming gale, where the deck reeled insanely, the splashing waves lashed, and the rigging hung wailing and lost. Then he flailed as he prayed, and the waves tossed him way overboard.
Holding tight to the cord, holding tighter than tight he was hauled from his watery grave to alight on the deck.
They knew in that moment, hold tight onto God and he’ll save from eternity’s wreck.