Life at sea · Y/n story by @Kaz

The sea was a gray, heaving beast today. Low clouds pressed down on the water like a lid on a pot, and the wind carried the sharp, brine smell of a storm rolling in from the horizon.

John

Steady, now. he laughed, a wheezing sound that was half cough The sea's just got a temper today, that's all.

He was old, John, but his hands were steady on the oars. His face was a map of wrinkles, each one a story of a storm survived or a net mended. He looked at me with those pale, knowing eyes.

John

You've got the look about you, boy. Like you're expecting a sea monster to come crawling up over the side.

He spat over the edge into the churning water.

John

Don't you worry. The only monsters out here are the ones in men's heads. And the cod. The cod are real enough.

The boat rocked again, harder this time. I could see the village behind us, a cluster of gray stone houses clinging to the cliffs, smoke from the chimneys smeared across the sky like dirty paint.

John

We'll pull in a good catch today, you'll see. My joints are aching, and that always means the fish are biting.

He reeled in his line, a small, silvery fish flopping at the end. He grinned, showing a few missing teeth.

John

See? The sea provides. You just have to know how to ask.