Beautiful and powerful, it boasts sails of strength that tell of conquests from which few survived to bear witness.
Those few rarely reveal their tales anyway.
Its current location at the dock is well deserved after a perilous and heart-wrenching journey.
The ship begins to drift away from the security of the town.
The local townspeople do not notice its slow departure.
But the next morning, when the ship is barely visible upon the horizon, they wonder why it left.
The gossip in town was that the boat was not set to depart for more than a month, but the reality did not meet the tales.
The answers upon the boat were no more clear, until the anchor was discovered to have been severed.
Gone, without a telling trace.
The crew, quite saddened by their sudden and unexpected lack of stability, is downtrodden.
The skies around them have grown dark and cold - ghostly in appearance.
The color of the world has left them: only blues, grays, and blacks are found.
Even the captain himself can no longer offer words of encouragement.
He is melancholy and silent, and frequently withdrawn into his hold.
Day after day, the ship sails on, into nothingness.
The men have given up on a destination, for all their supplies were unloaded onto the dock.
The hunger and hopelessness is obvious and leaves a desolate taste in their mouths.
When you've lost your anchor, to what must you cling?
Passing driftwood does no good, nor does the ship itself.
No, the only way into the color-filled world again is to find the anchor you lost and restore it to its rightful place.
