I am the trinket

 

I am floating alone in this tiny raft in this massive ocean.  The night sky appears to stretch beyond its borders, with more stars than one could ever count.  It is only the daylight hours that push down upon me.  The bright sunlight bakes me dry, and hurts my skin.  The absence of sound is deafening.  It is only my heart beat keeping the conversation going. 

The ocean treats my raft as a toy, to be bounced about, playing it's game of keep-away with death.  I am the prize at the bottom of the cereal box.   Various creatures swim just below the surface, like awaiting fingers trying to reach the prize, bouncing and shaking the box, in hopes I pop out, but I tightly hang on. 

Even though nighttime hours are cooler to my skin, the blackness of the water has with it a current of fear that I hate.  I should try to sleep now.  The water gently lapping against the raft is soothing, but it is my fear keeping me awake.  Maybe I'll count more stars, while hoping an errant wave doesn't flip me over.  Leave it to the devil to open the box from the bottom.