FSOL· Section 1
The boat lurched back and forth. I couldn't help myself, I leaned over the rail and puked. As it dibbled out of my mouth, I looked hopelessly out over the edge at the white tipped waves. Why am I here? I glanced back at the captain, standing at the wheel, head raised high. Who am I, what's my name? Spray flew over the bow of the boat, white foam hitting my arm. I shivered. Why am I suffering. The torture continued, the wind that kept the pristine sails up pulled up goosebumps on my arms. The spray soaked my, leaving my clothing sticking to me. My stomach kept emptying until I was dry heaving, having spewed up everything in me. Finally, after what felt like years of eternity, the captain called the orders. "Lower the sail, we are here!"
Losername· Section 2
I looked out through bleary eyes at the black waves of the ocean and saw no land in sight.
Again, the captain's order came, and the sails were lowered, anchor dropped, and the ship came to a stop in the middle of the sea.
Captain Fisher stepped from his wheel to the deck below, looking over the crew with pride. Then his gaze fell on me, and his jaunty expression dropped into sternness.
Feeling a little silly standing in the middle of the deck with nothing but vomit down my uniform, I asked weakly, "Where are we, my captain?"
He shrugged and gestured around him. "We are here!"
"And where is here, my captain?" I asked more insistently.
"Look up, boy!" He strode forward with purpose and grabbed both sides of my head to snap it upwards.
My jaw fell slack at the sight: