The shiny wooden sea rolled on, we peered at it from the safe haven of our raft. The raft was a circular beacon of hope in the never-ending danger of the yellowy oak sea. The storm rolled on plunging the sky into darkness, the sun slowly being taken over by the blackness. The four of us whisper in shrill tones, excited by the danger and mystery. Tiny hands held in tiny hands, curly locks wild in their own rights. The eyes wide with the wonder only a child could possess, taking in their surroundings and projecting back a whole new world. The purple and green plaid circle was the only source of life until we see it in the distance, we huddle together unsure if it’s just a trick our eyes are playing on us. No, there it is! The thing that can save us. The ship was magnificent and glowing. The gray-whiteness of the hull calling to us through the storm. We knew we only had one choice, so we leapt agilely on our little feet and prayed our thin legs were strong enough to propel us to safety. Four bodies hit the deck with a soft thud followed by muffled laughter. We all made it!