The water laps gently against the boat, only the faintest ripples rocking me beneath the sun.
I turn my head and watch the light sparkling on the water, the taste of milk and honey still on my lips. In the air above me, in the dappled light, insects hum and buzz in the humid air.
Thousands more crawl and writhe over my flesh. My skin is covered with countless oozing bites and stings.
My arms and legs are bound, my body pinned in place. I lay prone, just as I have for the last eight days. The honey my jailers covered me with has grown rancid in the oppressive heat.
Its sickly sweet smell, merged with that of my own filth, has drawn vile crawling and buzzing things from miles around.
I’ve felt them burrowing into my skin as the days have passed, tiny pincers and jaws tearing and rending at my helpless body.
The first maggots are already squirming out of my rotting flesh, hideous pale vermin bursting forth in an obscene parody of birth. My last legacy to the world will be these foul progeny.
The stench of my own festering body assaults my senses as I slip in and out of consciousness, delirious from thirst and maddened by the heat.
My vision begins to darken once again, and I pray that this will finally be the time I don’t awake. There is little left to hope for, but perhaps I can claim some small solace.
Maybe, in my final moments, I can forget my fate, and just think about how the sun sparkles on the water.