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Post by Kaez on Jan 14, 2011 18:44:39 GMT -5
We are under an onslaught of sensations. We always seem to miss it – miss it in the same way we can never quite grasp those memories of times we once loved. No matter how hard we close our eyes and try to force ourselves back to those times, back to those feelings, they’re gone. Our senses are flooded. Smells and tastes and sights are constantly bombarding us – but even if we tried, could we really experience them all? Or are they just lost to our subconscious?
The mind has a way of adapting itself. Forgetting things that are too constant. The same smell, hour after hour, day after day, eventually fades into normality. The smell that was once strong and potent virtually becomes the lack of scent at all. What peculiar creatures we all are.
I have inhaled the scent of saltwater for, more-or-less, seventeen days; uncertain, as these last few have come and gone like dreams fading to consciousness, a blur of uncertainty. I constantly wonder how much of these new memories I dreamt and how much of them I’d truly experienced. My body is ill and I am tired. I lay exhausted and wet, my skin pruned and unpleasant to the touch. Much of my back and my legs are drenched with tender bruises and have grown pale and sore.
I feel that I am dying.
No, that isn’t so. I feel that I will die. I lay here and think of my destiny as strange childhood memories float over me like clouds between the great open spaces. I see very little: there is sky and there is water and there is a raft about me: bright orange and yellow. Huge, sprawling blueness. Infinite blueness. I cannot discern the horizon. It always seems as though I visualize the curvature of the Earth, and yet all directions cannot be curving downward at once and my exhausted mind collapses again.
I begin to suspect that this world plays tricks on me – or that I have grown to slow to comprehend it now. It seems bizarre that in such a simple place, with no stimulation, I find all things around me more difficult to grasp. How miraculous, the infinity of the water. How strange, the perception of the horizon. Is this not peculiar? Me, here, afloat in the waters, unable absorb in the grandness of my surroundings?
A smell passed over me this morning, distinct and clear, like warm breakfast food at a diner I’d once visited. From whence did that come? My mind? Some passing ship, far beyond my vision? I think to myself that the saltwater no longer disturbs my smell, and that its clarity and continuum has allowed me to recognize distant scents – anything that might intrude the monotony of this world in which I am caged.
My head falls back and I admire the cloud shapes, how distinct and clear they are. A sole, white mass churns in the distance and it is beautiful. I stare at it, awestruck and captivated until the blinding sunlight forces me to turn away. How spectacular a cloud it was. How gorgeously it moved about on the winds. I think of the days when hundreds of clouds stirred in the skies.
I missed so much. I saw so little when the world around me was filled with such things to see.
A memory floats to me: a childhood Christmas for our poor family. I wept for hours and hours, not for myself, but for my mother – my mother who tried, I knew, her hardest and damndest to give us something to remember – and failed so pathetically. And I cry now, again, thinking on it. But my tears are not my childhood tears. I cry now deeply and powerfully and the tears roll down my tired face in a warm stream. My throat does not choke and my voice, it is silent. Tears pour from me.
Look at me, God. Look here in this infinite world. And I, so meaningless, so small. I am a speck that drifts, powerlessly, in the grasp of forever. I could not feel greed, nor hate, nor love. I am without all passion.
I have humbled.
My heart, which filled briefly with such a torment of sadness, stills itself and I am calm and I am reminded again of how alone I am. And I feel the sensations as the raft goes high and goes low as I close my eyes so tightly. I can feel the sway of the breeze and the push and the pull of the waters. The power of the ocean is beyond my understanding. It is larger and grander and mightier than all that which man was made to know. How could I hope to understand such strength? How could I hope to fight it?
I resign myself to this knowledge. Carry me, I speak to it. I am in your arms and I am a child.
The thought came naturally to my speaking mind. I am a child. I am without any domain over this world. I have no ability to change my fate. I only can trust the waters to grasp this raft and pull it toward a better place.
I have no control. I will die, or the ocean will save me.
My fate has been sealed – not to a destiny, but to the wisdom of something greater than I. Hope fills me, not of a saving, not of a return to my life as I knew it, but only that I do not know best. There is something so spectacular and so glorious that I cannot fathom it, and now, my world is in its hands. There is no good to struggling. No good to toying with memories of the past or imagining faint visions of an unknowable future.
I can only await the decision of the water.
The water and I are the same.
If it ceases, I will cease. And so be it. It has fallen from my hands as the time, again, slips from me. The sunlight upon my eyelids is warm and smooth and good and I am filled with a glow like a radiant beauty, illuminating neither flame nor spark, but a shapeless, formless phosphorescent – something not seen nor felt but invested in the core of the being, something that overcomes every sense and yet is entirely apart from them.
A body goes numb and limp. It does not breathe, it does not move, though it is not still – it dissolves into emptiness and simply ceases to be. Sleep come to take me again, and I have lost all count of days and time. This half-consciousness may just as likely have come over me all at once this very minute, or it may have swallowed me gradually over days or weeks. Time has gone the way of space: infinite in every direction and I only float in its majestic immeasurableness.
More darkness. More sleep. Passing and coming, rising and falling.
There are no dreams, now. The great light from within has faded. Everything around me feels drenched in a thick mist – a heavy, moist grey that looms upon me and the raft, the raft I had all but forgotten, surges on the water and I am shook into the world like a child being birthed. The waters quake and I cry out like the child that I have become and my body is weak and my stomach is convulsing. My eyes see only the mist, the impenetrable density of the clouded air and I expel the emptiness from my stomach and cry out again. God? my mind erupts. There is no question I have for Him, for the world, that I can express. I only plead emptily.
I claw and I grasp at the nothingness: only the water and the opaque blanket of air that engulfs me.
Where went the light? Where went the solitude? Suddenly, I feel surrounded and dark. I feel aimless and betrayed and my body is not fading, but failing. I feel more tossed and turned than ever before and my whole being has grown fail and weak. Where went the waters? Where went the coolness?
Voices take me. The speak softly of pleasant things. They tell me of food and of shelter and health and their gentle touch is both warm and dry.
"Carry me," I speak to them. "I am in your arms and I am a child."
A foghorn bellows. |
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The Drall
Junior Author
Legal Property of AWR
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
Posts: 3,796
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Post by The Drall on Jan 14, 2011 23:15:45 GMT -5
“Cap'n, island spotted off the port bow!” shouted MacTuffer.
George “Blood Drinker” Carlisle, Terror of the Seven Seas and Captain of the Maiden's Lord, walked over to the port bow of the ship and opened up his telescope. There was, indeed, an island.
“Aye, there she is. Tell me, matey, why has it taken a month to find this one island? Ye rotten, good-for-nothin', parrot lovin' scallywag!” he shouted, directing his fury at MacTuffer as he grabbed him by his shirt and threw him to the ground. The poor man simply stared up at his Captain. “What? Put yer eyes to better use, or I'll find a use for them meself! Like feedin' the sharks. Something to distract them, arr?” MacTuffer quaked in fear, and murmured an apology that the Captain did not hear. He had turned away from the sniveling pirate, and was staring at the island. “William, mate, bring me the map.”
They had been stalking this particular island for a very long time. As rumors went in Port Royal, it was said to house untold amounts of riches. Pirates from all over the world and over the years would dump their treasure on this island, then go off and get their ships sunk, or lose their way trying to find it once again. Perhaps they simply got too drunk to remember they had even -had- treasure. Whatever the case, the island was now known to pirates across the globe as The Golden Island, in honor of the many gold pieces hidden within.
“Blood Drinker” scratched his small, black beard thoughtfully. He was a tall man, dressed in a long, brown coat, with a sword strapped to his left hip and a gun to his right. He had a thick mane of black, greasy hair, with a hairy mustache and goatee. He had gained his nickname “Blood Drinker” after they had taken over a trade ship off the coast of Spain. After the short fight, Carlisle had hollowed out the skull of the unfortunate ship's captain and had drank of his blood. He was gifted with his new name after the incident. It was not the last time he had drank deeply of his victims' life fluid, either.
He heard the whispers of his crew mates, never bothering to silence them. “I thinks the Captain likes the taste,” some of them would say. “He's thirstin for some drops of that blood, and he takes it and drinks of it.” Or, “See, dis is what I 'ear tell. Ol' Captain Carlisle tinks dat da blood of 'im enemies gets 'im some magical voodoo. He tinks he be livin' forevah or sometin'.” The best of the lot was probably, “He drinks it to pay his respects to the dead!” That one always made him cringe. His respect to the dead? Far from it.
The truth was, George Carlisle drank blood to show his dominance over his slain victims.
He let the rumors continue, however. He had no wish to punish the perpetrators, or correct them. The less they knew of his motives, the more they feared him. And the more they feared him, the more he became their master.
“William Sensar! Where is tha' damned map?” he barked. “Blood Drinker's” bumbling first mate stumbled out from below deck with a huge, unwieldy sheet of parchment in his hands.
“Yes, Cap'n! Sorry it took so long, Cap'n! Won' happen again, sir, Cap'n, no sir!” First Mate Sensar handed him the huge map and the Captain snatched it out of his hands and unrolled it. He pored over the map, mumbling to himself and every so often gazing at the island off in the distance with his telescope. After several minutes, Sensar coughed. “Uh, Cap'n, I, uh, don' be meanin' to bother you, bu-”
“That's it. That island out there. I'm sure of it,” the Captain said. Raising his voice, he shouted so that all the Maiden's Lord could hear. “Land ho! Get off yer bottoms, ye lazy, drunken sea swine! If we ain't sailin' off into the distance with chests of treasure piled up below deck by the end of the day, I'll feed yer flesh to the Kraken and take yer bones as ornaments for my ship!”
The ship immediately buzzed to life, not because of the Captain's threats, which they knew he would follow up on, but because of the overwhelming prospect that they would be rich by sundown. Chances were that they would spend it all off on rum and women at the next port they stopped at. That was always how it worked out. In Port Royal, they had spent a month in bars and brothels, until “Blood Drinker” had heard enough information about the famous Golden Island to warrant a search for it.
The night before they set sail, his crew spent their last hours of freedom on the finest whores they could get their hands on. The Captain had joined them in their revelry. They left two women with a few broken bones and bruises, and nary a coin in recompense in sight. He had looked into their pained, hateful eyes with only mild interest. He had gotten what he had wanted, and he had shown them their master. They were his property, as were all women he claimed as his own. “Blood Drinker” would do as he pleased.
“Cap'n, shall we sail for it, then?” his first mate managed to stammer out to the thoughtful Captain. He nodded. They would have the treasure by nightfall, of that he was sure. No man would ever doubt him, or his power, ever again.
***
As they approached the large cove, the Captain became excited. They were so close. They anchored ship in the bay and readied the lifeboats. He left a dozen pirates behind to watch the ship and to care for it while they were plundering the riches of the Golden Island.
They went forth in silence. The anticipation was buzzing. The Captain, too, was anxious. He could almost taste the luxuries he could procure with the treasure, feel the awesome power it would give him. He would be the undisputed Ruler of the Seas with such a wealth as was described. He would lay waste to seaborne trade routes. He would sink every rival pirate ship. The Maiden's Lord would own the ocean.
They entered the cove. Though the light from outside made it easy to see near the entrance, the further they rowed, the more overwhelming the darkness became. Several torches were lit to guide the way. A small rock landing could be seen further in, and beyond that a very small hole in the wall. Beyond had to be the treasure. The Captain smiled. With the treasure secured, he was confident in the fact that he would never be defeated.
He remembered a visit he had paid to an old witch doctor once. The witch doctor had proclaimed, “No man shall ever 'arm you, Captain of the Maiden's Lord!” Who could argue with a prophecy such as that? “Blood Drinker” was as good as invincible. He would continue to be a terror to all who dared sail in his domain.
They reached land, and they disembarked from their small boats. Beyond passageway, he could see a faint glitter, and knew they had been right to come. Many wonders awaited him. His crew began to shove and run for the entrance, but a sharp bark from their Captain stopped them in their tracks. He would be the first to lay eyes upon his destiny.
“Blood Drinker” squeezed himself through the tight passage and looked upon something he thought he would never see.
The treasure was indeed real, the entire cave gleamed and sparkled with it. Medallions, coins, crowns, bracelets, earrings, and artifacts all stacked up in small little mountains on top of the rocks. Exactly as he had dreamed. Exactly as he had coveted.
But the figures standing before him on top of one of the tallest rocks, gazing down upon him as if he were some ant crossing their path, they were unexpected. And unwanted.
And they were women.
“You took your sweet time in getting here, 'Blood Drinker',” the high-pitched voice said smugly. “We were beginning to think you had gotten lost.”
“Uh, Cap'n? Women...” whispered Sensar to him, astonished. The Captain spun around and backhanded Will.
“Shut yer worthless trap. I see that they are women, ye blasted idiot!” He whirled back around to face the women. “This is not yer place, whores. Get back to the brothel, where yer kind belong,” he sneered.
“We just came from there, actually,” she said, pacing back and forth now, still looking down upon “Blood Drinker”, who was getting increasingly infuriated. “You know, it's funny, I seem to remember you and your mates there as well. They frequented use often, in fact. Wasting away their money on women, as they always do. You really need to keep their tongues in check though. Apart from being sloppy, they were also very loose...” she said and gave the Captain a wink.
It dawned on “Blood Drinker”, then. “You...you were...”
The woman climbed down from the high rock gracefully, and approached Carlisle's crew. They all pulled out their weapons fearfully. The woman didn't seem to notice. The Captain took a close look at her. Blonde hair down to her shoulders, huge, green eyes, fair skin. He recognized her...from the whorehouse he had frequented before sailing off for the Golden Island.
Then what were they doing here?
“That look in your eyes...you betray yourself, Captain. You are fearful, though you mask it well. You wonder, 'What are these women doing here?' You know the answer, yet are too ashamed of the words to speak them.” She shook her head and waited a moment, simply staring at “Blood Drinker”, then smirked. “I know how distasteful these words must seem in your mouth, so I will utter them. We are pirates, Captain.”
Murmurs and shocked cries spread through Carlisle's ranks. He was disgusted. Pirates? Women were not allowed to sail. It was beneath them. So they were not really whores. The Captain was quick, and knew how they had found this place. They disguised themselves as sluts to learn information and rumors from the pirates that frequented the brothels. That was how they were here. How had they gotten here before “Blood Drinker”, however?
He growled. “Trust a bitch to let her master do all the work for her. Ya merely followed us 'till ya came upon this place! How dare ya even think to call yerselves pirates!”
“Oh, you would have done the same, 'Blood Drinker'. You think yourself more fit to bear that name, yet the act of cheating or letting other foolish men do the hard work for you seems inconceivable.” She paused for a moment. The Captain let his eyes wander upwards, towards where the other two women watched. They had not moved since their leader had gone down to speak with “Blood Drinker” up close. Three of them visible...yet there had to be more. Perhaps by their ship.
Then he realized...he had never seen a ship.
“In any case, we didn't need to follow you. We have been to this island many times before. This, Captain Carlisle, is our treasure.”
The Captain could not believe it. Theirs?! How! It was impossible. No, he could not believe that. These wenches had not accumulated an amount this large over their years of piracy. These pathetic wastes of human life were no better pirates than he. He pulled out his sword in fury, but the woman raised a hand, clearly unperturbed.
“Please, let us not get hasty. At least not in killing one pirate. No, you wouldn't want to waste any time that could be spent saving your ship.” She nodded at the shocked look on the Captain's face. “That's right. My crew should be boarding the Maiden's Lord about now. It's a beautiful ship. It would be a shame to lose it, would it not?”
“You lie, harpy!”
“Do I? Then answer me this, oh fabled Terror of the Seven Seas. How could we have possibly gotten here first had we not the fastest and toughest ship on the planet? Why would we not then use said ship to cripple our enemies while their attention was focused elsewhere?”
“I left a part of me crew aboard the Maiden's Lord! They would not give up the ship to some clammy skinned dogs like yerself!”
“No, I suppose not. You're right. Not unless they were dead.”
“Blood Drinker” cried out in rage and struck at the female, but his blade was blocked by her own. He hadn't seen it enter her hand. Suddenly, all around him there was fighting, as more bitches jumped from hiding spots nearby and attacked the Lord's crew.
The ship...
“Back to the boats!” the Captain shouted. “Save the Maiden's Lord!”
His crew obeyed the order, and fled back through the tight opening one at a time. Several fell, being picked off by the women as they tried to push through the small gap. Their Captain, meanwhile, continued his fight with the leader of the women. Try as he might, he could not finish this one little girl off. She showed impressive skills with a blade...no! She was weak, imperfect, frail! He would see her on her knees. It was inevitable!
It was taking too long, and the two other pirates that had stood with her when they arrived were now coming to aid their captain. Cursing in fury, he kicked her in the stomach, sending her back a few steps and giving him the time he needed to flee. He pressed through the small entrance and ran for the lifeboats. His first mate was about to take off when the Captain shouted for him. He clambered aboard, and looked back. A shot rang out, and suddenly Sensar convulsed and fell. “Blood Drinker” swore and took out his gun, shooting blindly in the direction of the shot. He did not check to see if he had hit anyone. He grabbed the oars and rowed out as fast as he could. Once he regained control of his ship, and the upper hand, he would deal with their leader.
A shot flew past his head, and he ducked, but continued the rowing. Up ahead, he could see his crew exiting the mouth of the cove, with the enemy in hot pursuit. Shots were being fired from both sides. Obviously, the gutless wenches had hidden boats somewhere within the cove. He doubted their captain would be stuck behind for long. It was a race. If she wasn't lying, then it was already possible that the Maiden's Lord was taken over. “Blood Drinker” still had a chance, however. If he and his pirates were quick enough, they could retake their ship and then the tables would turn. Then he would show the world that the mighty “Blood Drinker” was the true King of the Seas!
Sensar gasped, and for a moment his eyes fluttered open. He grabbed the Captain's arm, who looked down at him with fear and anger in his eyes. He was about to smack the first mate's hands away when Will prompted him to stop.
“Please...Cap'n...” Sensar paused and coughed up blood. “The...the pro-sy...the pro-sy, Cap'n...”
“What prophecy, ye no good, shot to pieces, sea-cursed idiot! What are your pudgy lips blabbering about?!”
“The...the pro-sy...'bout...'bout our end, Cap'n...” he said. “Rem-ber...'no man would ever harm ye'...an'...she was right...”
And with those last words uttered, Sensar died with a dramatic gurgle.
“Useless, lily-livered sea bass!” the Captain cursed. Panic began to settle in. No, that witch wasn't right. She was only a woman, like these treacherous, impure land-lubbers. It was obviously a lie that had been spoken by the witch to induce fear within him. He would not give in!
A minute later, he, too, was clearing the mouth of the cove, and found himself in the small bay once more. The Maiden's Lord was still intact, and it had not been taken over. Some of his pirates were still defending it, though it looked like they were losing the battle. Behind his own ship, he could see another vessel. It was slightly smaller, but looked quite sturdy all the same.
Shots were flying everywhere. The women chasing after his crew in the lifeboats had hit a few of his men, but not enough to slow him down completely, and they were further behind. His crew would be able to climb up to the deck of his ship, beat back the invaders, then turn their attention to the pursuers.
Suddenly, something hit the water amidst the boats of his crew, and there was a huge splash. They and their life boats went flying into the air, like little voodoo dolls. The boats were smashed to pieces, reduced to nothing but splintered boards and logs, and their broken bodies hit the water hard. They did not waken.
They had used his cannon against his own men...
“Blood Drinker” raised his gun and fired several times at the women before him. A few of them dropped, and it brought him great satisfaction. They were the lucky ones. These whores had decimated about half of his crew. There were only a few boats left who were returning to the Maiden's Lord, now.
Yes, death was merciful. He would not kill their pathetic captain, no, not yet. When he got his hands on her scrawny throat, she would scream. Oh, how he would love to hear her screams...
Another bullet flew past his head. He stopped rowing and turned back to take a shot at the other captain. He missed his target, but managed to shoot one of her mates in shoulder. He took up the oars again and rowed furiously towards the boat. No other cannonballs had been fired, and the last remnants of his crew were now all aboard his ship. If those miserable bilge rats could hold on for a few more moments, he would have time to arrive and turn the tide.
“'Blood Drinker'! How fares your ship now?” called out the girl behind him. He did not answer her. He reached the Maiden's Lord, and quickly removed himself from the lifeboat. The Captain climbed the ladder to reach the deck of his ship. Once at the top, he slashed the ropes, preventing his pursuer from reaching the deck, at least for awhile. He unsheathed his sword and forced his way into the thick of the fight. Swords were clanging against one another, shots were fired, taunts hurled, and yet the Captain paid no attention to that. He went to the middle of the ship and cried out.
“Ahoy, ye gale-swept, gutless sea slugs! None of ya will act as more cannon fodder today! Show these pitiful, lost girlies that being a pirate ain't like playin' with dolls! Drive them off our ship!” With that, he charged into the fray. MacTuffer was engaged in battle with a short, slim wench. The Captain grabbed her by the hair and pulled her away from him. She gasped, but was silenced as the Captain slit her throat. MacTuffer simply stood and stared at him, and “Blood Drinker” kicked him in the shin. “Get back to fightin', ya lazy-eyed land-lubber!” MacTuffer yelped, and ran off to go help one of the other pirates. The Captain took out his pistol and spotted another female pirate, battling two of his crew mates near the railing on the starboard side of the ship. He aimed and fired, and she crumpled, over the railing and into the ocean.
“Blood Drinker” turned to find himself a new opponent when he spotted the leader's head pop up above the edge of the ship. With agility akin to that of a cat, she jumped aboard the ship and advanced upon the Captain. He cursed under his breath. He hadn't anticipated it would be this easy for the devil to overcome that obstacle.
“You did not think this would be how your story would end, did you, oh Captain of the Maiden's Lord? You thought you would rise to be the most feared, hated, and most powerful pirate that had ever lived. But that could never come to pass. You sought to prove your dominance by drinking blood, by disrespecting the dead. For those crimes, and for what you did to my two pirates that night at the brothel, I will have your head.”
Captain Carlisle snarled. “Yer pretty words do me no harm, wench! Ya only prolong the inevitable! I shall do to ya what I did to yer pretty friends, and more! Yer crew shall bow before me in the end, and they shall know their master!”
The girl smiled mockingly, enraging the Captain. “We shall see, won't we, 'Blood Drinker'? Know that it was Captain Ashley McArthur of the Silver Swan who brought you to your knees, who showed you humility, and who meted out justice and retribution. I shall not spare you.”
The Captain charged her. Their swords clashed, and he went in for another attack. She blocked him instantly, once again. This chagrined “Blood Drinker”, and his assault became more feverish, more frenzied. Ashley, meanwhile, looked completely in control of herself, and even smiled as they fought. The Captain realized, after several moments, that she was pushing him back towards the starboard side of the ship.
Try as he might, he could not get an advantage on her. Every slash he made, she would move to block it. Every thrust, she would dodge. She would always respond with a few attacks of her own, and he found himself wearying under her onslaught. There was one more thing he could do, however. During a pause in the fighting, he took the pistol once more and aimed it at Ashley's head, fully expecting her to concede the fight. But she did no such thing. Quicker than he could react to, she kicked high and knocked the gun out of the Captain's hands, then grabbed his sword out of “Blood Drinker”'s other hand as he stood there, astonished and unable to move.
She stabbed him in the chest with his own sword.
Captain George Carlisle looked down, his face set in disbelief and shock. It was impossible. This woman, his slave, had not stabbed him. It was a dream. A nightmare. His mouth opened to speak, but no words escaped him. Ashley smiled. “Your lips will never taste blood again, Captain,” she said, and with a small push and a wink, “Blood Drinker” fell from the Maiden's Lord into the water below.
Strangely, he thought of nothing as he sank slowly to the bottom of the ocean. No curses, no regrets, no blame. His last moments were spent thinking of how very cold it was to be embraced by the sea.
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Post by Manny Nhaims on Jan 14, 2011 23:59:20 GMT -5
[The following transcript has been recovered from the Handysize class bulk carrier Tarantella found adrift in the southern Pacific. All cargo accounted for. One crew member dead. Nineteen crew missing, all presumed dead at sea.]
I do not know where to begin. I do not even know how to start this single entry which I now hastily type in the confines of my bunk. I have never kept a journal before. Being incredibly private as I am, it seemed too great a risk having someone chance upon the innermost thoughts and desires floating within my head. I am so tired, yet for my own sake, I must write down this past month’s events. It all seems too surreal. A déjà vu without end. I need to be certain that what occurred aboard this vessel is more than just wild fancy conjured by a sleep deprived mind. That putting these words to screen before my eyes in some way helps me to reaffirm my grasp on reality, however feeble it may seem. I need this so desperately. To remember who I am. To remember why I’m here. To be sure what I’m doing is right.
My name is Janos, and for as long as I can remember the sea has been a part of my life. I was born in Ipswich, Massachusetts, a coastal town on the southern edge of Plum Island. So silly to me, being called an island with such a narrow stretch of water separating it from the mainland. But technically correct nonetheless. I was the only child to my father, and sole guardian, Alexi. A strong Greek man and natural born sailor, sadly for him his talents were destined to be wasted as a clammer and longshoreman. I love him very much despite the fact that his presence was nearly that of a ghost throughout my childhood. He had so little time for me between his two jobs. Funny, for the first time it strikes me as tragic that I can remember the faces of teachers and other familiar strangers better than I can that of my own sire. But it wasn’t only the work, I think. I think…I think that deep down inside of him, he didn’t love me as much as he wished he could. I think he blames me. For my mother’s death. Complications. Life is so full of them. But complications during childbirth. He wouldn’t talk to me about it. Why wouldn’t he talk to me about it? I wish he would have, but he never did. I remember apologizing once, for her death, I think I was nine or ten at the time. He didn’t answer, just gave me a queer sort of look and wandered off to bed in an exhausted stupor. I suppose I felt his distance more back then. Strange, how much less empathetic we become as time passes. So caught up in our own lives and the shiny things we wish to acquire. Money, gadgets, diplomas; anything we can snatch ahold of to show our fellow men how much better we are than them.
Considering the solitary nature of my childhood, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself chasing after the solitude with which I had become so well acquainted. A life at sea, as far away as anyone can get from contact with other people. A ship’s mechanic, even further, even better. As second engineer onboard the Tarantella and with only one other junior engineer below me, the bulk of the ship’s maintenance falls squarely on my shoulders. Fourteen hours a day are spent below deck with little to no contact with the ship’s other crew – only twenty altogether. Meals are eaten alone, time split equally actually chewing the food and merely holding it between teeth while searching for tools, lubes, or lights. I think it’s been two years since I last ate a meal that didn’t have an aftertaste of grease or grime from sullied hands. Making port offered no relief either. The two to four days offered little time to do anything aside from resupply and examine the motors at rest. Still, I did not mind. If there wasn’t a great abundance of peace and quiet working around the engines, at least I could not complain about not having enough time to myself. It would have been nice to see the sun more often. Much like my father however, I never found it difficult to achieve a splendidly blissful slumber. Well, that was the case until about four weeks ago.
We had just made port in Oakland, California and I was twenty hours into a double shift. So tired I thought my eyes would begin to bleed. I would have asked to be relieved, save for the fact that I had just send the third engineer to retrieve supplies for a cracked boiler plate and the Chief engineer – whom I believe to be a tottering incompetent of seventy – had decided it would be a nice time for a drink on shore. I was told I had thirty-six hours to complete a job that could only safely be done in fourty-eight. How I loathe the corporate greed that drives the captain. I cannot say exactly when it happened, save for it was long after I ran out of cold coffee, but somehow I managed to fall asleep while laying on my side, gazing beneath the steamer.
There, on the cold steel floor, I had a dream unlike any that I can remember before. It was me. Standing there, in utter darkness. There were no sky, no walls, no floor. I could make nothing out save for my own form. I attempted to call out several times into the murk but my throat failed to make any noise whatsoever. Unnerved, I began to move forward. However, this only increased my panic as even my footstep lacked any sound. Thoroughly disturbed, I dashed off into the dark changing directions at random, hoping, praying that something would break this blanket of nothingness. After what seemed an eternity, I collapsed in a heap, my panting going unheard by my ears. Desperate to end this nightmare by any means, I raised my hands to my throat with the intention of throttling myself. Once my hands had closed about my neck however, I was alerted to a new terror. Numbly I kept one hand about my windpipe and lowered the other to my chest. I had no heartbeat! It was at this moment I gave into full blown hysteria, rolling onto my back, tearing at my hair and trying my best to give my tearful wails audibility. It was then, while drowning in absolute fear that the sky above me suddenly ripped open into two glowing orbs. And with those burning spheres composed entirely of reddish hues, there came a horrible rumbling hiss. Strangely, though the sight should have flung me deeper into my madness, I felt an unexplained calm wash over my mind. Slowly I began to gather my wits, wiping the water from my vision and pulling myself into a seated position on the ground. The whole time, I remained focused on those smoldering orbs floating in the sky.
With a start, I was awakened by the Chief engineer, nudging me in the ribs with a heavy boot and yelling at me to “Get back to work.” Irritated but surprised, I made a quick apology and returned to the broken boiler. But my mind was far away from the task at hand.
Over the next two weeks the dreams persisted - as did my work on the same damned boiler the captain assured me we would get replaced at our next stop. The liar. But the dreams! Oh how I began to understand them! It was no longer fear that filled me whenever my mind took me to that dark place. Only a sense of peace and tranquility. Especially under those blazing orbs, which I have come to assume can only be eyes. And also that soothing thunderous hiss. I have played its sound hundreds of times over again within my head. To me, it has the cadence and flow of what must be language, though from a truly great voice. And even with the tongue being alien to me, I have been to enough foreign ports to know what speech is like. Not that I need to understand the words anyhow, as the sensations that fill my mind whenever it speaks are enough to assure me that this entity means only to care for me. Just sharing time with this being fills me with a vigor and strength had enabled me to endure the meager four hours of sleep I received each night. I even got the captain’s praise for my tremendous work ethic. But I didn’t do it for him, or the crew, or even the ship. It was only so I could accomplish more in the hopes of spending more time within my dreams. How I wish to stay there!
It was less than a week ago that I discovered how deeply this being inside my dreams cared for me. It was when the dreams took a dramatic change. No longer did I stand in the darkness that had haunted me at first; instead, I walked…how to say this…where I am. Where I lived and worked on this ship. I was in the waking world, but the creature continued to watch over me, guide my actions. I saw myself in the engine room, working on that cursed hunk of leaking metal at the end of the row of boilers. I was lying on the ground, reaching for a wrench when the machine started shaking violently. I jumped to my feet when a trio of rivets burst forth from the seam. I watched as one struck me in the in the eye, penetrated my skull and I dropped to the ground, dead. I watched as blood seeped from an empty socket to puddle on the floor. I listened as the thunderous voice warned me of my impending doom.
Then, I awoke. The third engineer was standing beside my bed, grasping my arm and asking for my assistance. I knew what was supposed to happen next, but now I had the opportunity to change things. That time as we entered the engine room, I asked my fellow to stay. I gave him instruction on what while staying a safe distance back. I watched as my would-be assassin shook under its strain. I watched as my junior mechanic jumped to his feet. I watched as he was killed by that third terrible rivet. I watched as his body fell lifeless to the floor. Odd, but unlike my dream his body twitched and spasmed a great deal.
I didn’t call for help. Not right away. We didn’t have any medical staff anyways. No, in those beginning moments I was too busy celebrating. Celebrating that the dreams I had were more than that. They were premonitions. They were definitive proof that the entity that watched over me was real.
The third engineer was put in the freezer to preserve the body until we make it to our next destination. Weihai, China, I believe. More upsetting to the captain is that we have been forced to continue at half speed. But I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything anymore. Not sleeping. Not dreaming. That security, that warmth and love. It has stayed with me since it told me its name the last time I closed my eyes. That was three days ago. Three days ago since my savior and protector has given me a vision of what I must do next. I have already dispatched the Chief engineer. Next thing I must do is sabotage the remaining engine. I just needed to be sure that I’m doing the right thing. That these words, written down, make the same sense that they do in my head. That, and I dreamed it. And the visions must be followed, or else I may perish. My Guardian demands it. My lord Cu’thulu.
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Post by Meleta/Isoldaa on Jan 17, 2011 9:29:25 GMT -5
Drall
4/5 Spelling & Grammar
3/5 Ease of Read
9/10 Use of Topic
9/15 Entertainment
12/15 Quality
Total: 37/50
Most definitely a sea story here, Drall. The only reason I docked you a point there, was for the pirate cliches liberally scattered throughout. The story itself didn't really pull me in, as I jumped from one vicious, blood-drenched proclamation to another by "Blood Drinker." And once I read the "no man can kill me" prophecy, I had a "flashback to Tolkein" moment, and pretty much knew exactly how the story would end.
Still, killing Sensar? XD Nice touch - no offense, Sensar, I swear!
Manny Nhaims
4/5 Spelling & Grammar
3/5 Ease of Read
10/10 Use of Topic
13/15 Entertainment
13/15 Quality
Total: 43/50
Just for future reference, Manny, when submit entries for writing assignments? I actually printed off each story here, so I could read it while I was walking around, sitting in my living room, etc. But some people will read your stories directly from the screen, and only approximately six to eight lines should be applied per paragraph if it can be helped, before your piece becomes the dreaded "wall of text." But since I printed it off, it really didn't bother me that much, personally.
As far as topic goes? Oh yeah, you ran with it, spiked it in the end zone and danced. Overall, a very entertaining story as well. Janos is a great character, even if by the end your reader is a bit horrified by him/the things he does/will do. Wonderful story, Manny!
Kaez
4/5 Spelling & Grammar
5/5 Ease of Read
8/10 Use of Topic
11/15 Entertainment
13/15 Quality
Total: 41/50
Another great piece, Kaez. Just a couple of small technical mistakes - I breezed right through them quite easily. Your story here was interesting, and well-written. The only problem I had by the end, was that the "Sea Story" topic seemed to become very, very secondary along the way. Yes, I got the "dying man in a raft on the sea" part - but eventually, his almost "zen" experience as he's passing into and out of consciousness/delirium seems to become the greater part of your focus.
Still, a wonderful piece, Kaez - great job!
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Post by Dylaria on Jan 17, 2011 16:08:37 GMT -5
Kaez:
Spelling & Grammar - 4/5
Ease of Read - 3/5
Use of Topic - 8/10
Entertainment - 12/15
Quality - 14/15
Total - 41/50
Notes:
Well, this is definately you in style Pete. I did notice a few little errors with spelling and grammar but I'll highlight two of them for you.
1. "or that I have grown to slow to comprehend it now" That first "to" should be "too" should it not?
2. "Me, here, afloat in the waters, unable absorb in the grandness of my surroundings?" Here you missed a "to" and I don't think the "in" really works either. At the very least it read verly awkwardly. "unable to absorb the grandess of my surroundings?" to me would have seemed much easier to read and perhaps a bit simpler. Though I know simple isn't your thing.
I have to be honest, this wasn't an easy read. You are very descriptive and it works for your style but it felt very thick and viscious. I had to read slow with the heavy metaphors and metaphysical trains of thought. I honestly think that some readers might be turned off by how heavy it got at a few points but that is merely my opinion. Yet for that I never lost sight of the fact that this man was alone on a life raft lost at sea likely going through his final days if not hours on earth. It certainly fit into the definition of sea story if in a very odd way. I have to give credit for the rather unique approach even if it was a bit hard to read.
Thing is though that while it was exceedingly well made and all the descriptions, metaphors and all else were top notch it had some snags. The heavy feeling and slow reading made parts of reading this feel a bit like work or something that I would have to really be in the mood to read through. I found it exceedingly interesting to read but my enjoyment while reading it suffered a bit for that interest gained. It was a bit much for me to get full enjoyment out of. I mean it was beautifully written minus the few little errors but I'm not sure I'd really want to pick it up again for awhile.
Drall:
Spelling & Grammar - 5/5
Ease of Read - 5/5
Use of Topic - 9/10
Entertainment - 13/15
Quality - 13/15
Total - 46/50
Notes:
I think it will have to be for the technical skills of the other judges to find the flaws in your grammar and such because I didn't find any. As for reading it, I had no trouble. Nothing made me stop or think about if something felt off or not. As for a sea story, well pirates sailing and fighting mostly at least next to the sea works for me. On the technical side I don't have a whole hell of a lot to say. It wasn't a hard read, it all made sense, good pacing et cetera.
I found the story to be pretty entertaining as well. The characters were a bit stereotypical (at least the captain was in my opinion) but it worked. This was a pirate story and you had pirates as the characters. Really the only thing I didn't particularly care for was the whole prophecy thing. It gave if not the ending, at least the gist of it away. Lord of the Rings did it and I know I've read at least one other story that has used that trick. I didn't mind knowing the captain was going to die so much as that it was going to that whole "woman =/= man" gimmick. I just never liked that whole thing. Still, the whole thing with female pirates posing a whores to get information fit the story quite well. There wasn't a huge stretch of imagination to believe it which was nice. So while I didn't care for the prophecy thing, at least how it happened made sense. Just kinda wish the female captain wasn't so holier than thou about it, she's a pirate too. Your story though, that's just an opinion.
I'm impressed Drall, this was a pretty darn good bit. I think I noted all my concerns but overall very nice.
Manny:
Spelling & Grammar - 5/5
Ease of Read - 5/5
Use of Topic - 10/10
Entertainment - 14/15
Quality - 14/15
Total - 48/50
Notes:
This was definately different from what I expected going into this. The first paragraph if nothing else hooked me in and going through I had a couple guesses as to what was ultimately going to happen but was proven wrong totally. I found the mental degredation of the main character was done rather well and while I sometimes mixed up the third and lead engineer (which I think was my own fault) the story read easily enough. It was a descent into insanity so obviously there is going to be a lot to take in but I think it worked very well. The only thing that threw me was that one of the paragraphs has no space seperating it from the next paragraph.
For the topic I think it fit in perfectly with what a sea story is defined to be. There was the journey inside this man's journey to the darkest places from his malefactor but I never lost all that was going on from his point of view with the ship and crew either. I never felt a disconnect and that let me enjoy the story even more not needing to worry about how it fit into the topic in the least.
I didn't feel that the story was too short or too long, rather that it had hit the point where it was long enough. There wasn't a bunch of filler to waste space nor did the story feel rushed or sparse. The descriptive words used seemed appropiate with the descriptions in their entirety not being overwrought with fanciful bits either. I connected with the character to the extent that I could understand what he was doing if not at any given point his complete mindset. (which I liked) As far as grammar and the like go, I didn't catch anything that I wanted to fix.
Top notch job and I would suggest maybe giving the monthly competitions a look if you haven't already.
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