It is the year 1492, and I am on the high seas with my loyal crew, searching for the alternate water route to China. My crew and I hope against hope to beat the famed Christopher Columbus to this discovery.
It has been weeks now on the water, and some of the men have become discouraged and disheartened. I can see fear in some of their eyes, and I can sense their longing for the smell of that fresh bread, olives, and provolone on the table at home. They sing the songs of our native land and dream of returning.
I, I will not let myself lose faith in our goal. I will be sure to press on and motivate the others to do so as well. We will not turn back until we have achieved success.
A few days pass, and I can feel a storm in the air.
Now I can taste that same fear that I have observed in the others' eyes. Only now, it is in my own throat, and I pray that we survive what lies ahead.
The stars are not visible on this night as they had been before, when they glistened and shone brighter than on any shore. The light they bore, that in its limited brilliance could light the pages of my books, does night shine upon us anymore. There are only clouds above us now. Silver linings....?
In the following days, the storm begins and intensifies with every minute. My ship, the Anima del Mare is tossed like a child's toy boat floating downstream. The men beg me to turn back, but I only reassure them that the storm shall pass. I tell them that their fears are foolish. Little do they know that I feel the same fears as...