Into the Maelström

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Water can be both good and bad, of use and dangerous.
To the danger, however, a remedy has been found: learning to swim.

The oldest seaman could not have foreseen what was to be dispelled from the heavens that night.
We began the journey with a fresh wind on the starboard quarter, my two brothers and I, in high spirits.
For a while our journey was without incidence; we sailed along at a great rate.
A breeze from the Helseggen befell us suddenly, and for a time we struggled to make headway.

Looking astern, we saw the span of the entire horizon covered by a copper cloud, advancing with incredible velocity.
The breeze fell off just as quickly as this hurricane force advanced upon us.
Before we could let down our sails, the first burst of wind ripped them away, taking our youngest brother with it.
Instinctively, I grabbed onto a ring-bolt by the foremast and secured my feet, and in moments we were completely deluged.

When the water subsided, my elder brother yelled to me words that commanded me with such fear as I cannot describe.
We were doomed. Trapped in a storm which would propel us directly into the depths of the Moskoe-ström.
I screamed at the top of my voice into my brother's ear, but the din had made it so he could not hear a single word.
We were behind the time of the slack; the whirl of the Ström was in full fury.

Raised by a wave so gigantic I would not have believed it if I had not been there myself - I was full view of the Ström.
Across the black ocean, an immense swirl raged down to such depths that some have believe it to reach the center of the earth.
Trees, bears, whales, ships - it has captured, with such fury and mercilessness that it immediately evokes the image of God.
My remaining brother, in a state of depraved madness seized the ring-bolt I held. I left it to go and hold on elsewhere.

Two minutes later, all was calm, as we were revolving along the great black walls inside the swirl.
I was possessed with such composure, when finally faced with the spectacle; gazing thoughtfully into the mist rising from the deep.
I only regretted that my companions on shore would never hear of the mysteries I would find as I hurtled toward my death.


- Adapted from Edgar Allan Poe's A Descent into the Maelström

If you haven't read A Descent Into The Maelström, this might not make that much sense, but it's an allegorical piece which is a representation of the struggles of my life, and maybe yours.

Good call.I haven't read that in years,but I'll always remember exactly where/when I first recognized the weight of it.

I know he's considered more of a "genre" writer than Poe,but do you find similar pathos in Lovecraft?

I'm ashamedly not quite an avid reader, so I only know Lovecraft from hearsay, but I'll be sure to delve into his work sometime soon. From what I know about the Ctulhu mythos I expect some interesting material. What do you recommend for an introduction to his work?

Every time I read Poe I have to remind myself he was American. His writing seems so British to me.