Creative Writing: Empire Island

The ship floundered, bobbing in the ragged sea like a bloated corpse. Three rows of oars slapped at the angry sea, but could not hold the waves at bay. The sea was no friend to the finless creatures on the wooden vessel, and their terror screamed louder than the wind. Another wave swelled, hammering the ship until the wood groaned. The mast splintered and fell. The wind howled.
“Man overboard,” came the wavering cry. Distance and rain watered down the call to a whimper.
It was only a matter of moments. Achlys had seen it too many times before—there was no hope for those aboard. The sea was hungry. Her people, gathered around her like flotsam on the waves, were eager. “It’s time,” she said and submerged. She swam beneath the ship’s barnacled berth and, like a shark, circled. The sharks would come soon enough—with the daylight and the end of the storm. But for now, there was
Tymon and others rushed toward it. Xenophon, new to the Quest, jammed his triton into the boat’s prow. The finless shrieked. One tumbled into the water. Tymon, eager for his eternity, snatched him to his heart. He held the sailor like a lover, gazing at him tenderly, thankfully, before he twisted the man’s neck between his hands.
Xenophon stared in envious appreciation.
More lifeboats were lowered, but her people surrounded them. Tritons and sharp pieces of sea glass punctured their wide bottoms, and water gurgled inside. Beneath the waves, the cries for mercy and salvation warped into gibberish.
A sailor splashed into the water beside her. Half consumed by flames, he was well on his way to dying. Yet even as she pulled him to her bosom, she hesitated. His cheek, prickly with stubble, rested against her collarbone. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t look at her with unfounded hope.
Her fingers crawled up his face. Tiny bubbles escaped from his nostrils. A sigh? Her gills flared and she shut her eyes.
His neck snapped as easily as driftwood. She trembled and cast him