THE fear of sinking like a rock into the deep, angry, blue waters of the sea was almost over-powering to the small group of fishermen. The men had been out for nearly two days, casting their nets over the side of their boats, again and again. One man, a young lad out with his father and brothers, uncles and cousins, pulled his coat tighter around himself to keep out the biting chill of the blowing wind. He tried to picture himself home. How his family would leap for joy when they saw all the fish that had been caught! His mother would smile down at him, much like his father did when he caught his first fish, and say 'Well done, me boy.'

The lad smiled at the warm feeling he got.
Even as the boat violently slammed into a sandbar, and tore a hole into the hull.
Even as the men were forced to swim in the cold, uncaring sea. The boy was aware of his name being called over and over, each time in growing desperation and the refusal to accept what the sea's demand was. Suddenly, the boy heard to more, his head submerged under the waves. He thought of his mother again, until he was beyond thinking and breathing and living.

And on the surface, the call of a broken-hearted mother echoed in mourning across the now tamed waters.