4 March, 20××, Monday
It seems that the curse has fallen on us. The innocent and ‘a Christian Soul’ was senselessly killed. His spirit is crying for revenge. The breeze drops down suddenly and so are the sails. It is sad ‘as sad could be’. We speak only to break the silence of the sea. ‘Day after day, day after day’ we are stuck in the middle of the ocean. No breath. No motion. Total immobility. This idle ship, seems to be on ‘a painted ocean’. Water is everywhere but we don’t have a drop to drink. The very deep does rot. O Christ! Never in our lives have we seen such a hopeless situation. The death-fires seem to dance at night. The water burns green, blue and white like witch’s oils. And many of us have seen horrible dreams. A spirit is following and chasing us coming from the land of mist and snow.
The Albatross doesn’t seem to leave me. It has come to stay forever. It is not the cross but the Albatross that hangs around my neck. It is the price of the sin that I had committed in my senseless anger. It will serve as a reminder that curses and sufferings are the wages of the sin.