The clouds were in a sporadic notion, moving slowly but not erratically. It was a good day to fish, I was sitting with my net untouched for half an hour, gracing upon the blue, blue oceans reflecting panels of light from the diminished spectrum of light from the skies.
Calm, a little too calm, something is wrong. My guts would not be wrong, it was the matter of when. I stifled the net a little, rippling miniature tides waning into nothingness. The skies were still in good condition to be out. However, my stomach was in knots, I threw up in the middle of the sea, not staining my wooden sampan.
As I lifted my head from the inexplicable reaction from my body, the world around me was spinning in circles, the skies was turning into a kaleidoscope from the rainbow, I was seeing stars. My thoughts were to grab the paddle and leave. My body took control, presumably, as my senses were too obstructed to be doing even simple observation.
Tripping, nearly dropping into a trance. The skies started to pour heavily without any mercy, scattering lightnings across the vicinity. My body moved faster, and faster. Not knowing that I was paddling further into the storm. Regaining my senses, I was petrified for a second, which was all I needed.
ZAP! My sampan was demolished, I was in the middle of the sea, hanging my life on a piece of wood that was from the destroyed sampan. My heart sank first, but my survival instincts were on point. I kicked my legs into life, my body into a full-speed mode, swimming my way back.
I was in an auto-pilot mode, my thoughts, my feelings, were all pulled to a halt. My body did all the work. ZAP! Another blast sent me flying out of the water, scarring the lower half of my body. Disabled, dejected, Davy Jones’ locker was my new home.