If there was an answer; he’d find it there. He had to, it was his only clue to the puzzling circumstances surrounding him like the cloud of thick fog that hung over the otherwise still water. So he pushed on, his only companion a small pack, into the deep unknown of the expanse of foreboding horizon ahead of him.

The sound didn’t bother the sea-hardy man at first, but as hours of the constant droning passed, he began to become uneasy about the churning. He had begun to loose it. He looked about the tiny vessel that was the only thing separating him and the ink-colored water. The wood, a darkened blue with the fading light, was falling apart at best and despite what he said to ease his mind, he felt the cold tinge of water seeping in about his feet…