Sea, sand, storm and loss: a sailor鈥檚 sorrow
The sailor crawled out of the sea; soaking wet, like someone climbing out from a swimming pool. He was as huge as the waves, wearing a dirty sweater and with many cuts on his face and stomach. It seemed like every part of his face, his red-brown hair, dark eyebrows, green eyes, even his nose (as pointed as a lion鈥檚 fang) and great mouth were freezing. The wind blew in a tornado and the storm rained icy cats and dogs. The thunder was deafening.
He lay on the cold, hard ice. Uncomfortable and sick. It took all his strength to crawl, crab-like, to a safer place. He did not understand, what had happened, nor even where he was.
He walked up the stony beach, as slowly as an old man, and entered the storm-battered house. He warmed his hands by the fire until sounds all around disturbed him. He had lost his memory along with his family.
When he came back inside, he saw food prepared. He ran upstairs. In the bedroom he remembered everything. His wife. His son. This was his home. He remembered how his ship had caught fire with his wife and child on board. He walked back to the beach. He saw their bodies. Sad and terrified, his tears fell like a waterfall.
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