“Take my hand!”

“No way!”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m trying to save your life!”

It’s funny how circumstances like this makes you laugh in the last moments in your life. You’d think I was trying to save a rich girl from her woe-filled worries attempting to take her life off the butt-end of the world famous unsinkable iron ship but alas, I have duties as a preacher of Christ, to give hope to those who need it. To promise them salvation from this sinking ship by offering my holy hands and soon I will speak the final rites of passage.

The ship is tilting even more and this woman who has held my hand has become a martyr for others who are grasping onto her. My grip on the metal bars are tight, my responsibility is heavy with their trust. I long to hear the music of joviality played by brave musicians in a time of panick but now I hear the screams. It is chilling to the bone and the cold crisp air is cutting into my skin like needles. My body is becoming numb. I must have a dozen of souls who I am transporting to heaven before their body forms are swallowed and lost to the freezing dark deep sea below.

The lights of the ship cut out and we are consumed in darkness. I no longer have words of comfort but I murmur with my flock. We are nearly vertical and I can no longer hold on. We will fall together but rise to heaven together on our faith.