Day Eight Hundred Fifty #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

I got us out of there as fast as we could go. Which meant climbing down from the rock shelf and feeling our way around its base until we sensed a level path beneath our feet.

At that point the snowfall slowed and soon turned to mist. We kept going. Through the rest of the day and through the night.

Elijah called a halt in a valley created by towering rock formations. They appeared to stretch onwards forever, corralling the slow moving sea of sand within the boundaries dictated by their will.

We looked back from whence we came. The sky was empty, holding the promise only of another hot day.

That’s when Elijah asked if I had any confirmation.

Day Four Hundred Forty Nine #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Heavy rains moved in today. The Captain’s concern grew when the wind picked up. He ordered the ship underway after a thorough checking of the lashings. In charge of that detail, Tomas had some of them doubled.

I watched from the bridge as the shoreline slid by. Elijah pointed out the rickety staircase by which we climbed up off the beach. The wind then died and a mist settled in along the coast of the island.

We were no sooner into the channel between the island and the mainland when the wind freshened. And within seconds day turned to blackened night and the wind mounted in ferocity.

The Captain commanded the ship about and we sailed away from our destination.

Day Three Hundred Twenty Eight #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Elijah emerged from the set apart cabin, staff in hand. And I was waiting for him.

He simply said, “I know,” and beckoned me to follow. I offered to fetch the Captain, but he answered it would not be necessary.

No one was about when we arrived forward. The acetylene torch and its paraphernalia were cluttering the passageway  outside the cabin in question.

Elijah ordered me to wait outside, and cautioned me to do nothing no matter what I saw or heard.

He struck the door with his staff. It opened and he entered, slamming the door behind him.  Smoke or mist which had issued forth, was sucked back in by the action of the closing door.

Again, I wait.

Day Two Hundred Twenty One Late Morning #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Lyle writes:
I reached the pool in time to see the fountain bubble to life. It must be a natural phenomenon. Its mist hung in the air. Its effect refreshing and invigorating.
Should I make this my daily habit?
Spring up, o well!