Buried at Sea :: Creative Writing Essays

Buried at Sea      Ahh, thithers no wind today, sighed Cobi as he tacked his sail nigh andheaded for the shore.  Cobi was a sailor.  Cobi wasnt a typical sailor, Cobiwas a National Championship benignant sailor.  A sailor who thrived on high windsand rough seas, who has accomplished everything there is to accomplish inCanadian sailing.  He is the envy of every preadolescent sailor and child.  They wish,aspire, and dream to be like Cobi.      Hii Cooobiii, wines Julie.  Julie just happened to be stand on thedock of the Yacht Club as Cobi tied his luminous, new, nine-thousand buck boatto its mooring. Julie,  was just angiotensin-converting enzyme part of Cobis round female entourage, whofollowed and prayed on his every move and breath.  Cobi Jones was not only veryskil direct in the nautical art of sailing, he was the or so popular, the bestlooking, and even one of the smartest kids in school.  &nb sp  Hi Julie, moaned Cobi in reply, what are you doing here?     A shocked, but smiling Julie answered, Just came to see ya.     Well visiting hours are over, Cobi verbalise as he pushed past Julie andtrekked up the rocky shore to his family unit.  His home  His home was a picturesquearray of hand-crafted pillars and intricate carpentry that beautified even theaesthetic sandy ocean beach that encompassed it.  As always, by and by sailingpractise, he was greeted by a honk and a roll up from his father returning fromwork.  His father was a partner in Jones, Jefferson, and Deveau, the mostsuccessful law firm in Nova Scotia.  He was able to storage Cobis sailing careerfrom the start, and his money played a very large role in Cobis sailing successand popularity.  Other than Cobis majestic surroundings, Cobi led a typicaleighteen year-old aft(prenominal) school life.  He ate, did homework, spoke to his manyfriends th e phone, and then fell asleep with a remote arrest in his grip.  Thisevening wasnt an exception.         The following day at school, Cobi was greeted by all(prenominal) of his friends andsailing cohorts and he sauntered to his first class.  The greetings ranged fromHey man, to Whats up, and to the simple Hi.  Cobi habitually respondedwith a mumbled Yo. Sometime after an insightful, and invigorating lecture fromhis positron emission tomography English teacher Dr. Noble, he ran into his friend and sailingcrewman Greg.  Hey man, whatre ya doin after school today? asked Cobi.     Nothin man, its too messy out.  That hurricanes gonna hit tonight youknow, replied Greg.     I know man, thats why I asked