The anchor dropped, signifying another day in the vast unknown and I trudged to the deck wearied by half a year of sailing. Shimmering flecks of light from the Caribbean sun glinted off the huge ocean but it’s the horizon that caught my attention. My shipmates muttered about the “Luminous Tide” rumored to be harbinger of good fortune or doom.
Just after midnight, under a sky full of stars, the sea changed its appearance. The turquoise and silver sheens floated on top of water exposed revealing some ghostly figures; these were ghost sailors who died many years ago. Among them was a woman in long flowing dress her eyes shone with age-old enlightenment. Unable to resist, paddling into these waves gave me an opportunity to behold their luminescence. She talked – Marisol – a captain gone for centuries and tied into this sea in search of someone who would complete her journey.
Steering myself towards her old vessel led me straight to it where I found an encrusted chest covered by barnacles containing her logbook which provided coordinates for a hidden island. My crewmembers heard me telling them her story, so we sailed there together. Coral glowing brightly protected the island as it emerged from beneath the water surface line.Marisol’s log entered its place inside soil thus fulfilling what she wanted.
Under a silver moon that night Marisol and her crew rose as bright orbs of light. We continued sailing with Luminous tide engraved deeply in our hearts as memories; these are dreams of seamen longing for freedom spirits and destiny-fulfillment.
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