The Sweepstakes

Your mother wins in a most renowned sweepstakes a trip to several Caribbean islands, aboard a marvellous, state-of-the-art intercontinental cruiser. It is one of those sweepstakes that promises in blatant letters “many will enter, few will win,” as a caveat emptor, foreboding your close-to-nil chances of winning; yet somehow, by the many whims of the wise universe, she finds herself packing for the adventure of her life: two full weeks of relaxation and sunbathing, in a spectacular paradise that many would kill for, or in fact, have to pay large amounts of monetary currency for. Her voyage is entirely free, and as such, your mother makes her way unto the pier, where roaring and almost envious individuals contemplate her and wish her luck. The ship is shining new, and everything seems in place; a ship at hand to bear her hence unto better days.

The cruise is scheduled to pass over several Caribbean islands, with beautiful sun settings and sun risings, each bearing at hand something magnificent, that her enclosed world never had the chance of contemplating. The boat swims steadily, pushing many tonnes of water on its wake, unto that promised land of adventurous wonders. It is the spectacle of nature that compelled her unto the rails every single night, when the sun was to hide away behind the veil of salt water and the sky was to turn a dark tone of navy blue, the starts were to ignite their switches and glisten in eternal beauty millions and millions of kilometres away. Your mother could breathe that clean open-sea air, clutching the rails as the only form to stay firmly planted on the boat ground, ere she flew away amid the vast sky. She took a deep breath just as the sun dove as is its wont into hiding and marking the evening, with a broad smile on her face.

By a staggering coincidence, the Earth became flat and the boat tilted in direction of the bottomless void of outre space, wherein your mother slipped off the rail and floated adrift to die millions of kilometres away. The Earth returned to its round state once again, and bore the ship back to you, bereft of your mother.

“WHYYYY????????? BY THE CURSE OF MARY MALONE AND HER NINE BLIND ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN… WHYYYYY??” you cry a deafening roar of despair and ruin, when the sound waves carry the message of your mother’s fate unto your ears. And while reasons are as numerous as grains on the beaches of this world, the sole pertaining explanation is 42