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The Fiery Gates of Hell
Out of a copper sky rose the sun so high. The waters lay dead… that no one could deny. The bleached and torn sails wavered not. Dead in the water, a hundred miles from land… was my lot. I pushed, I pulled, I strained with oars of wood. No where did I go...not fast, not slow, drifting as only I could. There it was everywhere… but not a drop to drink. Days came and days went, hunger and thirst made me wish I could just sink. Death hovered all about. Time was slowly running out. At last one day... dark clouds formed in the sky. The sail slightly fluttered to the murmur of a breeze blowing by. Flashes of lightning and thundered rolled. The tiny craft began to move as the sails filled with a gust of wind so bold. Faster and faster I sailed… through smoke, fire and the smell of brimstone. The heavy waters boiled and produced a sulfur foam. The heat was more than I could bear. I began to pull out my graying hair. I then realized that I had sailed through the fiery gates of hell. As you may have guessed… there is no more of this tale to tell.
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