The lights in Cody's bedroom flickered. That was the norm for Sheriff Daniels to alert his ward it was time for the sleepy-headed rapscallion to wake up. Soon, the boy's bare feet would pitter-patter in quick taps across the lineolium floor as he meandered down the carpeted staircase to his traditional morning fare of eggs over easy, buttery biscuits, and lightly salted country ham. Cody knew he had to deliver a stellar story in his English class at Astatula Middle School. His final grade for the course depended on his ability to present a tale for the ages. The twelve year old was not concerned. He was no rank stranger to such phenomenal undertakings and had one tucked deep inside his hip pocket. Two weeks of intense labor would soon pay off a handsome reward. After all, who did not enjoy a good treasure hunt story? As he jumped into the steamy hot shower with a now full belly, Cody knew his creative endeavors had worked double time to construct just the right adventure. In front of his fellow classmates, Cody seized the opportunity and began reciting his story from rote memory. Their eyes never wavered off him when he told them, "The break of dawn slightly more than sixty minutes away, the morning sun sat six degrees below the horizon. Bearded, and curly-haired with oval-shaped follicles, Captain Norman O'Connell noticed tinges or orange, bronze, and yellow illuminated an eerie, cloudy sky. Off to his port side, Jupiter and Venus could be observed as the seasoned fisherman ordered his crew to haul in the nets. Roger Paultry, the First Mate, approached his side. In short order, Captain O'Connell would purchase a second boat and catch even more fish to sell in the markets of the booming populations along the coast. Captain O'Connell turned to Paultry and advised him, "After several hours the rain has abated and the swells are not as heavy as they were." "I'll keep using fog signals to alert any vessels passing by of our presence," the First Mate stated as rainwater dripped off his "Dixie cup" hat. The headgear was so called because of its striking resemblence to the paper cup it was named for. Out of the mist, and limited visibility the falling water particles hampered, Captain O' Connell spotted another boat drifted toward the bow of the Calypso Breeze he stood on. The craft, a sizable pleasure boat, floated momentumless. There were no lights on and no sounds of an operating motor. Nor did the ship make way. Crabby from a long night's labor, the First Mate groused, "Looks like the storm set another expensive toy adrift." Captain O'Connell snatched his megaphone in hand and called, "Rig the fenders!" He hailed the approaching yacht, with its sleek white hull, and guessed the craft's size to be about fifty feet. No reply came from the boat. Captain O'Connell was not entirely surprised by the lack of response. The First Mate, a good boat pilot, eased the Calypso Breeze alongside the yacht. Captain O'Connell read its name: Nordic Serenity. Not a navigator by any means, Captain O'Connell radioed the local Coast Guard station. He could maneuver the Calypso Breeze in and out of any harbor without difficulty. The lights, buildings, and markers of the coast were familiar to the old salt. The Coast Guard radio operator asked for his location. "Somewhere south of Clemmons Isle and north of Bartz Inlet," Captain O'Connell informed him. The operator assured him, "We will locate you. What is the name of the yacht found?" Captain O'Connell provided the information and the operator's tone changed. He asked, "Any survivors noted?" Convinced the yacht slipped free of its moorings and drifted out to sea, the question took Captain O'Connell aback. He responded, "I see no one at the helm or on deck." "The Nordic Serenity had four adults onboard when it left the harbor at Millersville. Two men and two women," the operator replied, "Ascertain as soon as possible if there are survivors and if medical assistance is required." Captain O'Connell told the First Mate, "Take the helm of the Calypso Breeze." He grabbed a lit, red, lantern and lowered onto the Nordic Serenity. Onboard, Captain O'Connell secured the yacht to the Calypso Breeze with tow lines. He noticed the First Mate watched his movements and kept his alert eyes moving as he should have. A hopeful picture appeared in the captain's mind of the four adults slumbering safely below deck. He called out again to no avail. During his lengthy sea career, Captain O'Connell had become familiar with several stories of someone falling overboard. In other tales, someone was left onboard not knowing how to man the boat, or operate the radio, and was washed overboard as well. He bellowed out a third time. Silence responded. Captain O'Connell listened a moment to get the feel of the yacht. All he heard was the creaking sounds of the tow lines pulling and the sea lapping at the hull. The Nordic Serenity seemed seaworthy. Captain O'Connell would check for engine trouble later. Using the lantern, he surveyed the upper deck, helm station, and bridge. Next, he hurried down the companionway and flashed his light in the salon area. All empty. Everything was secured as it should be on the pristine vessel. The galley, dinette, head, and berths were unoccupied. Captain O'Connell felt uneasy. He told himself not to get spooked over nothing. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end, but he carefully made tracks to the aft stateroom's double berth. No signs of life emitted, nor were there any occupants. Climbing to the upper deck, Captain O'Conell told the First Mate, "Notify the Coast Guard there is no one onboard." A quick response from the Coast Guard operator assured him a helicopter and cutter were on the way. Captain O'Connell moved to a door he had previously missed. He pondered a moment about the future of his fishing company and looked out to sea. The sound of a helicopter's whirling blades permeated in the distance as Captain O'Connell opened the door. Something large, fierce, black, and monstrous grabbed him and dragged him down to Davy Jones' locker. The Nordic Serenity, and its chilling emptiness were now the Coast Guard's problem. The morning sun sat six degrees below the horizon. Tinges of orange, bronze, and yellow illuminated the sky." A impish ear-to-ear grin on his face, Cody looked at his English teacher seated behind her over-sized wooden desk and beamed, "That, Mrs. Johnson, concludes my creative writing assignment. I get an A+, right?"