26 Degrees South-East

The sun was setting. The golden brilliance splayed across the ocean horizon like a three year old had painted it using only yellow.

On the immense ocean there was but one lone figure; an old man in his boat. A brown dot on a canvas of blue and gold.

The old man had spent the whole day fishing. He had caught one fish, and was making his way…

“…home! 26 degrees south-east!” sighed the boat “I cant wait. The soft lapping of the waves in my moor, the warm night currents, the relaxation…home truly is where the heart is! 26 degrees south-east!”

The old man pondered what the boat had said. “You know; I’ve spent every single day of my life doing the same thing. I get up, I go fishing, I catch a single fish, I go home and I clean it and eat it. That’s it. Everyday”.

He then stood up. “Every day I start my life anew. Every day I do the same old thing. Every day I am happy, and every night I think about how happy I will be tomorrow. When I think of home, I don’t think of the shack on land! I think of the sea”

The sea growled in approval.

The boat gave the man a strange look (it was a very well-constructed boat). “Stop your rambling, old man! 26 degrees south-east!”

The old man looked at the horizon and squinted. His wrinkled face gained another several lines of lines. “Look, boat! A storm is brewing in the west! They say that God Himself faces west!”

The sea grumbled in agreement.

The storm clouds started to blot out the sun. On the horizon, big chunks of energy were seen to be ripping through the clouds creating great geysers of water, the water turned from silken blue to devil-eyed black; it was a sight to be seen (and I don’t know much about storms, either!)

The man jumped about in the boat, laughing. His single-toothed mouth grinned in excitement. The action hurt him, he had never properly done that before. Smiled, yes; but grinned?! Never!

The boat was getting anxious. “Turn around now! 26 degrees south-east!”

The old man didn’t listen, and started to row towards the storm.

“Are you MAD?! Nothing will survive that storm! Im not even sure the OCEAN will survive that storm! It is the apocalypse! The end of the world! The very pot in which creation and destruction are the same! We’re going home, and getting you to bed! 26 DEGREES SOUTH-EAST!!”

The boat pulled the oars back against the old man. He was frail, but this idea had taken so much control of his mind that he didn’t care anymore. He strained against the boat, and the boat creaked and groaned under the effort.

SNAP! The oars broke!

"Never liked rowing anyway!” shouted the man over the growing din of the storm and sea meeting in combat. “I’ll let God Himself guide me!” he declared, getting out the sail and putting it up.

A strong south-east breeze blew through, and the boat began to splash elatedly. The wind would guide them home! “26 DEGREES SOUTH-EAST :D” it shouted joyfully.

RIP! The man tore a hole in the sail with his gutting knife!

“Bah, the winds in hell blow south-east! Plus, God only SHOWS us the door!” he said, and started to undress.

"No!" said the boat “I wont let you!!” The boat frantically tried to move its own rudder. For an inanimate object, it did a very good job. But the laws of nature state that something that isn’t alive cant propel itself, and its rudder BROKE with a SNAP!!

The old man was standing at the edge of the boat, naked as the day he was born, ready to jump in. He looked down at the boat, looked towards the approaching chaos and smiled.

…..SPASH…….

“Stupid old fool, he deserves his fate” said the boat, and turned 26 DEGREES SOUTH-EAST and started on home...

…but he found that his rudder didn’t work!

…and his sails would catch the wind!

…and his oars were broken!

…

..

.

The sun was setting. The angry blackness splayed across the ocean horizon like a three year old had painted it using only darkness.

On the immense ocean there was nothing; no old man nor a boat, nothing bright but the creation of lightning. Flashes of white on a canvas of black and grey.