Flight of Fancy
The constant chorus of howling souls, calling out their misery to a keening ocean of loss, a rising pitch as the ship would crest the contemptuous sea to once again fall at the mercy of the tides.
A soundless cry burst from parched lips as the foaming waves crashed over her; cold water shocking her into awake-fullness as it relentlessly sought her out, flooding through the cracks to greedily claim her cramped space.
Thumping desperately at the velvet lined prison until the antique locks tore open she filled her lungs with salty air. Blinking painfully against the harsh sun she stumbled from the leather box, gazing across the abandoned shore littered with empty luggage.
Shivering in the coastal breeze she stared closely at the forsaken cases, a rising sense of fear washing over her as she spun around, frantically tracing the soft imprints in the sand fading beneath the oceans tide.
What were the others?
Have a taste of moonshine