a fan fiction novella about two friends searching for the edge of the flat Earth.
The depthless water surrounding us had grown eerily calm over the last three sunless days. I cautiously reached for our last bit of rations: one half-bottle of jam; never letting go of the netting on my side of our squeaky, sodden raft. With my shaking frost-bitten hands, I cracked open the bottle and offered Arwan a spoon. Slumped across from me and cocooned in blankets, he sat with his chin nearly pressed to his chest. His eyes were still, and staring up and off into the distance. There had been not much to see other than waves and storm clouds since this ill-fated little rubber tub set off from Isla Noir. As he continued to fail to respond to my gesture, I followed his gaze into the dark, foggy horizon.
Above the gently-rocking, misshapen, and patched heap separating us from the icy and aqueous grave below; the swarthy sky was static, like a mural on an infinite ceiling. My weary eyes trembled painfully, straining to spot movement among the clouds. Suddenly, a faint glint fluttered somewhere behind the somber mist. It vanished almost instantly, and I instinctively leaned closer, over the edge of our miserable, makeshift pontoon. I gasped, choking on the frigid sea air as the bright speck popped into existence yet again. Disbelieving of my exhausted and dehydrated mind, I turned back to my friend — “Don’t move,” he mumbled “NASA snipers.”