The wind swept across the swells that characterized the violent water. The ocean writhed and twisted- a mirror to the stormy sky. A vessel rocked back and forth as a child's toy would in a bathtub. The shouts of the fishermen tending the ship were carried off by the wind; their bodies were slick from the downpour and a tinge of panic shone in their eyes. Yet one man stood apart from them, his dark leather coat billowing behind him, a grimace painted on his face. He seemed unaffected by the dangerous weather and stood in the midst of the chaos, coolly overseeing the other men as they struggled against the elements. Little by little, they hauled up a fishing net whose surface swam with the glint of silver and copper. It spun and shook more than the ship and when the men finally wrenched it from the water, it landed on the soaked deck over the starboard side. It was then that the men realized that they were drenched in something other than rain and seawater.
"Oi! What the hell is this shit?"
"It's like me mamma's strawberry jam."
"I'm gettin' buckets o' rain dropped on me by the second and this shit's not comin' out!"
"Bloody hell! Me Goddamn shirt's ruined!"
"It's blood! Fucking Christ, it's blood!