The water lapped at my shoulders, my arms tiring. I looked up at them, unsure of what they were capable of.

I could barely hear anything over the sound of the paper as is cracked and shouted in the soft breeze. Such a din was caused that I almost missed their words…

The cold glass rung out in response to my tapping fingers as I looked out.
It curved upwards and around me, contorting my sight.

Something tangible but hidden met my fingers…
Strange to the touch yet oddly familiar.

The trickle of water was a soothing answer to the harsh wailing of the wind.
A delicate repeating pattern of sublime jumbled rhythms, it would be hard to feel uneasy here.

We've heard your calls, read your letters and decoded cryptic messages across pirate radio waves. WE HEAR YOU! You all want to know... WHAT HAPPENED WITH RY'S BUTT?

Well join us this week for the thrilling conclusion to this epic tale.