Storms are Brewing

I stand on the Viking era wooden ship next to the ship's Captain. We are docked at the nearest city port and everything is bustling around us. The rain starts up in a mist and it is quite cold out. I shiver in my everyday, modern t-shirt and jeans, standing next to this mountain of a man who was in warm Viking era furs and clothing. He is an older man, maybe in his 50s with a long, greying beard. I look at his large, tired frame as he grips his sword, blade down in front of him. He seems worried and tense as he looks down at the children in the water below. He says, in a calm but exhausted tone that he is ready to give up and that he knows it will all be over soon. I look around at the cloudy, rainy sky. The clouds are a dangerous blackish grey and the strangely shallow and choppy water below is rocking the ship slightly. I look behind us at the people on the docks who are also dressed in Middle Aged type clothing. They go about with their everyday routines not paying us any attention.

Below us was a small group of children in white gowns. These were the Captain's children. He never said so but I could sense it. They were being baptized. He seemed in agreement with this but worried all the same. I wasn't immediately aware of why he was so concerned or upset. But as my observant gaze looked closer to the shore, I noticed another group of older, teenaged girls, also in the white baptism gowns. But they were lying face down in the water. They were not moving. Though I didn't have any sense of fear or dread, I was very aware that they were dead. No one else seemed to pay any attention to that though. As I watched below I suddenly grew very tired myself and was so cold my body ached in my thin, damp clothing not suitable for this weather. I rested my head on the Captain's arm as he stood next to me. He said that he couldn't wait for it to just be over with. My eyes fell on the kids below and I muttered that I couldn't wait either.