It’s cold.

The boat capsized some time ago, overturning all her inhabitants onboard the vessel. Everyone was thrust into the cold frigid sea and left to fend for themselves as the Freundschaft was slowly consumed by the waves. All around the unfortunate men were floating crates filled that were also filling with water, ready to be taken by the unforgiving sea.

The waves were thrashing wildly as the storm continued battering on. Random chunks of ice flew through the air, attacking the already downed ship. The poor souls were given no respite from misery as the temperature seemed to suddenly drop below freezing. Like paper dolls, they were flung carelessly about the water, in and out of the air and back into the sea with a great splash. It was as if the fates were toying with them, torturing them for their own twisted pleasure.

In the middle of the madness remained one person. He was one of the unlucky ones. Those who were more fortunate were hit by stray debris or the flying projectiles of ice. His general vicinity was littered with the dead bodies of his fellow crewmates. It seemed as if he were the only one left.

Without notice, he was quickly pulled into the depths of the sea. It was too dark at night and too deep in the sea to cast light on his assailant, so the lone sailor flailed wildly in an attempt to throw it off. The man was miraculously able to reach his pocket knife and, with the little weapon, attack the unknown monster. He could feel the heat radiating off it and himself as they struggled in an intense dance of life and death, knowing that he needed to win this battle to continue living.

But he only gave it a half-hearted attempt. Having seen that none of his fellow crewmates survived, and they were the closest thing to a family that he had, he wondered, what was the purpose in living? One side of him said he didn’t want to go out passively, but the other side asked, was there any light at the end of the tunnel?

It seemed as if the fates weren’t done with him yet. He landed a fatal blow against the beast and was released. He struggled and flailed and did all that he could to reach the surface and get a breath of air. One breath. That’s all that he needed. Just a gasp.

As he neared the surface, he encountered a strange barrier. He tried breaking through, for the whole area was only water. Or so he thought. This impenetrable barrier felt cold. Colder than the water. It was ice.

He had encountered a sheet of ice. This was the last obstacle between him and the freedom to live. With the last ounce of strength within him, he punched at his new nemesis in order to secure his freedom. He fought with the last reservoirs of his adrenaline, knowing that he could be taking his last breath. In the quickness of the dynamic events of this night, he had decided that he would not go without a fight.

Here he was. Fighting. His strength was fleeting. He couldn’t last much longer. But he tried. He tried fighting the cold of the water. He tried fighting the cold of the ice. It was numbing. The feeling of death around him. Near him. Encroaching upon his remaining stamina.

He punched the ice again. And again. And again. But all for naught. The only sign of his actions was a minuscule crack that required a magnifying glass to be seen. And then his sight went black. His skin, blue. And it was cold.

05.13.08, 10.30am. – 12.16pm