Drenched with fear, I wobbled across fifty-two snow-covered, rickety wooden posts, I know because I counted them. They say this is where heaven meets earth. A slip to the right and I would be frozen in the knee-deep waters of Lake Onega, a slip to the left and……
My arms fiercely fought to keep me afloat, my head bobbed in and out of the water, I could hear my every breath, gurgling, trying to escape the panic. Would I fall victim to what is deemed the second worse death known to man? Strangely, I yearned to feel the heat from a raging blaze, drowning had become, for me, the worst way to die. I recollected on better days, a campfire, friends united, I allowed songs of unity to repeat in my head. What had been my purpose? Why had I come here? My search of the truth ultimately led to my untimely death. My lifeless body bounced violently against the wooden pillars, and…. as time passed, we became one.
The shantyman led the crew in song, synchronizing their labor as they hoisted me up to the front of the ship. I didn’t feel any pain as nails pierced through my now carved out features. They attached me to the bow. I would lead many excursions through the same waters that took me and protect many men from the unknown dangers of life off the peaceful shore. The boat, they named after me, Cimantern fifty-two, a myth, a legend. As a man, I was unable to find the heavens though I searched in the most dangerous of places, unafraid and steadfast. My role quickly turned, still unafraid and steadfast… I am the guardian of the vessel at sea.
Leesa Writes 