Dear Diary,
I cannot begin to describe how I am being tossed as I write. I espied the darkening clouds on the horizon shortly before noon and soon afterwards all passengers were requested to return below decks and remain in their quarters until further notice.
I can only imagine the scene outside but from this pitching and tossing we are in a veritable tempest.
Miss Dixon is made of stout stuff indeed for she embroiders away and seems none too concerned by the unexpected motions of the ship.
I think I shall scarce sleep tonight for all the creaking and cracking that fills my ears.
If I am doomed to a watery grave I shall be quite vexed.
Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
2 comments:
Wayne, I once crossed the Atlantic in a ship during a hurricane. It was not pleasant (or even pheasant), but I survived.
May you too.
-h
Dear Wayne,
Writing and tossing at the same time...ever the multi-tasker.
Astounded,
B.
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