Hello. I did sleep.

Grief is apparently not a strong enough wall to keep sleep from invading my mind.

I am thankful I did not dream.

I just drifted today. Draped lifelessly over some debris from the Ivers Dream. Hunger failed to rouse me. Only a rasping, pounding, murderous thirst managed to wake me from my despair long enough to fish a barrel of rum from my satchel.

I spent the next few hours sipping handfuls of rum.

As the sun rose and started its fall my despair began to weaken. A sleepy buzz fogged my head. Keeping my thoughts and feelings from clawing at my mind.

I drank more.

The sun had sunk beneath the waves and the first barrel of rum was half empty. As I saw the golden sphere slip below the water it stirred a memory of watching other sunsets with Julius.

JULIUUUUUS!!!

A sudden lightning flash of resentment and rage flashed across my clouded brain. Clearing up the fog a little. I pounded my fist into the barrel of rum and a spark ignited.

Foomphf.

The rum caught fire. I was enraptured by the flames. Watching them dance across the liquids surface.

I was so entranced my first indication of something happening was when a pair of arms looped under mine and I was scooped up onto a rope bound seat, and hauled onto a deck.

The rope around my waist was cut away. Voices spoke words my mind refused to translate. A pause was followed by a deep voice barking what even I could tell were orders.

Rough hands carried me into a dark place and oddly gently settled me into an unfamiliar swaying bed. I wrote all this as I l listened to the waves splash against a ships hull and a small girls soprano voice sang a calming lullaby.

Goodnight.