by Patrick Winters
They’d plucked him from the sea one evening, lashed to a barrel and floating along, unconscious. Once he’d stirred, he gave his name as Jonah, of all things. The men wanted to cast him back to the waves that instant; the captain ignored their superstitions.
The ailment swept over them soon after, swift and horrendous, claiming them amidst their screams and choked prayers.
Those who hadn’t been buried at sea now lay on the decks, gone from this world and left to rot.
And Jonah, having taken the helm, guided the ship along, singing shanties and sailing for dark waters.