The Frozen Ocean

I slammed my weight against the ship’s doors and they finally opened.

I hadn’t expected the wind.

It slammed into me and slid me backward along the slick deck. Ice stung my face and covered my camera in a dusting of snow. The temperature plummeted.

I staggered to the railing and leaned over for a better view.

We floated between two islands with lighthouses on top. Snowfall covered the rocky and untouched surfaces, so I could hardly see them against the cloud-covered sky.

I watched the snow sweep down from the hilltops, across the frozen sea, and meet the hull in one unbroken plane.

My eyes saw no distinction between earth, water, and sky. Whether we sailed on the ground or sailed through the clouds, I couldn’t tell until our hull split it open to show a streak of black water between the fractured ice.

I slid along the length of the ship, covering my face against the pelting sleet to the stern.

The watery wound left by the ship’s wake drift together and heal in the distance behind me.

White turned to black and back to white.

It blinded me like the sky.

~

When I could stand the cold no longer, I went inside to rejoin Dani in our cabin.

It sat in the same plane as the water—the ice moved outside the walls. It made scraping sounds as we broke through it.

The sound shook the walls.

I held my hands over my ears and waited.

The scraping slowed, then the boat lurched, and everything stopped.

The captain’s voice came over the intercom.

“Welcome to Helsinki.”