K
Kitti
Guest
It's been a busy three weeks for those of you who crafted stories for the contest! Thank you to everyone who submitted a story - no matter how the votes pan out, just finishing and submitting a story is a shiny accomplishment!
Remember that until the winners are announced, your stories are to stay anonymous. With them out there for the world to see, it can be tempting to want to show off but just hold your horses until it's time!
There was a slight delay in this thread but never fear, the amount of time that you have to vote will not be impacted. The deadline will just be pushed back correspondingly!
The theme for May was:
Write a story that includes one of the following quotes:
These quotes must be used as external dialogue, not in narration.
The prizes for winning are as follows:
The Community Pick winners will be selected by the votes cast in this thread. If entries in the Community vote tie for first place, all of those entries will be rewarded with the prizes. Once the voting period is over and the Community Winner has been determined, this thread will also be used to announce the recipient of the Managers' Pick prize.
Now, onward to the entries!
Remember that until the winners are announced, your stories are to stay anonymous. With them out there for the world to see, it can be tempting to want to show off but just hold your horses until it's time!
There was a slight delay in this thread but never fear, the amount of time that you have to vote will not be impacted. The deadline will just be pushed back correspondingly!
The theme for May was:
It's How You Say It
Write a story that includes one of the following quotes:
- "I know you'll come around eventually. I'm only doing what's best for you."
- "It was like I'd slipped, tripped, and fell into a pleasant dream."
- "I understand now, why you were the one that they chose. You're special."
- "We knew sunrise meant salvation, but it was still two hours away."
- "You actually thought that you were the first? You were the last."
These quotes must be used as external dialogue, not in narration.
The prizes for winning are as follows:
MISC MANAGERS' PICK
One month of free Donator status complete with perks, a special victory ribbon under your avatar for a month, a spot in the MISC Hall of Fame thread to immortalize your win.
MISC COMMUNITY PICK
A special victory ribbon underneath your avatar for a month and a spot in the MISC Hall of Fame thread to immortalize your win.
This month only, Astaroth is offering an art piece prize in addition to the standard MISC prizes. (See here for details)
One month of free Donator status complete with perks, a special victory ribbon under your avatar for a month, a spot in the MISC Hall of Fame thread to immortalize your win.
MISC COMMUNITY PICK
A special victory ribbon underneath your avatar for a month and a spot in the MISC Hall of Fame thread to immortalize your win.
This month only, Astaroth is offering an art piece prize in addition to the standard MISC prizes. (See here for details)
The Community Pick winners will be selected by the votes cast in this thread. If entries in the Community vote tie for first place, all of those entries will be rewarded with the prizes. Once the voting period is over and the Community Winner has been determined, this thread will also be used to announce the recipient of the Managers' Pick prize.
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Please make sure to read over the rules for voting and giving feedback before jumping on in.
Keep in mind that entries may contain graphic material. Only entries containing explicit sexual content will be marked NSFW. -
- All entries will be posted anonymously. Voters will need to make a selection based on the quality of the piece, not the name attached to it.
- There will be two winners for each month of MISC: the Community Pick that receives the most votes, and a Manager Pick that will be decided in secret by the MISC managers. Each will receive separate but similar prizes for their accomplishment. On the rare occasion that there is a physical or monetary prize for the month, it will be awarded along with the Manager's Pick to avoid any temptation to pull shenanigans with the votes.
- In the case of a tie in the public vote, each winner will receive the Community Pick prize package.
- People who have entered the contest can vote, but they can't vote for their own entry or it'll be disqualified. Show some love to your fellow writers or don't vote, whatever feels right to you. Votes will be public knowledge so we can keep track of this.
- You aren't allowed to tell anyone which entry is yours until AFTER the voting period is over. Doing anything to solicit votes is not allowed and will get you disqualified, and perhaps even banned from MISC altogether. Telling your friends "hey, I entered MISC this month, go read the entries and vote" is fine; telling people "go vote for #4, that's my entry" is not okay.
- Voters are highly encouraged to read through every entry before voting. We know we can't enforce this, but try to give everyone a chance before picking your favorite.
- The entry with the most votes at the end of the voting period will be declared the Community Pick for that month. However, if the community makes the same selection as the managers, then the second highest vote recipient will be named Community Pick; we don't intend to make the vote seem like it's playing second fiddle to our pick, it's just how it has to work so prize distribution makes sense when there are gift certificates or similar to be won, sorry! The winning entry will win fabulous prizes (fabulousness not guaranteed) and will win a permanent spot in the MISC Hall of Fame thread for all eternity (or until Iwaku explodes).
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- Voters are highly encouraged to post in the voting thread to explain their choice. Full reviews or critiques of the entries are very welcome, but please keep any criticism constructive and civil. Telling someone that their spelling errors and odd word choice made it hard to read is fine, but telling them that they write like shit is not okay.
- Number/letter grades are also highly discouraged as they tend to be arbitrary and to vary widely in interpretation. This applies to any form of comparative grading. It is better to list strengths and weaknesses from the rubric for each entry based on its individual merit rather than assigning a grade.
- If you would like, you may use the same rubric that the managers will be using, provided below. It's entirely optional; don't feel obliged.
MISC MANAGER'S RUBRIC
TECHNIQUE
- Are there spelling/grammar errors or typos? Many, or just a few? How did it affect your ability to read and follow along with the story?
- Is sentence structure and word choice varied? Does the writer show a good grasp of vocabulary and punctuation usage?
- Are there any odd word choices or places where you stumble? Is everything clear and easy to understand?
STYLE
- Do you get a sense of the narrative voice when reading along? Is it consistent throughout the narrative?
- Do the punctuation and sentence structure show a sophistication of style? Does it seem like deliberate choices were made to create a certain flow?
- Is there use of vivid, engrossing description? Can you easily picture scenes in your head?
- Does the story captivate your interest? Do you find yourself skimming?
CHARACTERIZATION
- Do characters have distinct, believable voices of their own? Is the dialogue natural or does it feel forced?
- Do characters show complexity and depth of emotion? Do you get a sense of who they are and what motivates them?
- Do the characters seem appropriate for the setting?
- Do the decisions made or conclusions reached by characters within the scope of the story make sense? Do we learn more about them through their actions?
- Are the characters likable or interesting? Do you have any strong emotion toward them?
CREATIVITY
- Are the plot and/or setting fresh and original? Do they show imagination?
- Are there any new twists on old ideas or common elements? Has the writer surprised you?
- Are there any subplots or underlying themes that you can identify?
- Has the writer used symbolism, metaphor, allegory, or subtext?
COHESIVENESS
- Does the story adhere to the prompt? How closely? Is there any way you feel it deviates from the spirit?
- Do the ideas involved seem fully developed?
- Is there a plot? Do you get a sense of advancement in the story? Do characters learn or accomplish anything?
- Does the story make sense as a whole and flow seamlessly from beginning to end? Is there anything that feels like it doesn't fit or is unnecessary?
- Is the ending satisfying? Does it feel like a complete story?
Now, onward to the entries!
Disqualified from voting
"Simon… Dad's dead…"
It was a week ago when I received that call, in a rather trying moment when I was entangled in sheets, having the time of my life with a beautiful lady I had met in the bar. I always turned my phone off during my nights with the ladies, but for some reason, this time I'd forgotten. I don't like to think about fate and destiny, so I say it was just a coincidence. I could've simply let the damn thing ring, but that night I had paused my attention to my lady friend and answered the phone. She hadn't been too pleased, that much I remembered.
The remainder of the night was something of a blur, and I can't for the life of me remember when she even left. I vaguely remember missing a couple of hundred dollar bills I had in my wallet, but that was nothing to me. I wasn't the sort of person who lived paycheck to paycheck; I was a budding businessman who had enough money that the loss of a few hundred dollars was tantamount to blowing them on a fancy dinner.
And yet, I found a reason to find a flight four days later, rather than immediately, to fly back to my birth town for my father's funeral. It was a cheaper flight than what I would've had to fly had I chosen to leave immediately. When I arrived and met my other siblings, a younger brother and sister, I gave them the feeble excuse of money for not flying right away. They saw through my lie, I could tell, but they weren't bothered to say anything about it. Maybe it was because they understood why.
The three of us had never forgiven our father for his infidelity. It was strange how bitter I felt about his sins of adultery, yet cast a blind eye to all of my own flaws and faults. It was always easier to look at others than myself, after all. Nevertheless, once my father's tryst had been exposed and my mother's heart broken, it wasn't long before they separated, and later, divorced. We had been old enough to choose whom we wished to live with; obviously, we all chose our mother. Our father had expelled from the house, and pretty much our lives. Where he lived after that, I had no clue, nor did I wish to learn of it.
Back to the present, even as I looked down upon his coffin in the grave, I couldn't find it in myself to forgive him completely. That being said, I was curious. It had been more than fifteen years since I'd last talked to him. What had he been up to?
It wasn't like I really cared. At least, I didn't wish to admit it to myself. There was a niggling thought in the back of my head, however, that just wouldn't leave. So, the day after the funeral, I called a few places and managed to get ahold of my father's address. A part of my mind was telling me I was an idiot for even thinking about visiting his place. The other part of my mind was winning the battle, and soon enough I was sitting in a taxi, heading his apartment's way.
I am not sure what I expected. Maybe a condominium apartment, or something of a duplex, perhaps. Instead, I ended up in a complex that seemed several years old, with cracked sidewalks and random graffiti on the faded red brick walls, though nothing too scandalous. I remembered these buildings from when I was a child; a few second cousins used to live here; maybe they still did. Apparently, it had been a den of drug use fifteen years ago. From the state of the place, I had no reason to believe otherwise. It looked stale, dusty, and frankly, not a place I'd want to visit.
Still, I paid the cab driver and resigned myself to appease my curiosity. A few children looked up from their sidewalk chalk art as I passed by, one giving me a toothy little grin as she waved. I blinked, surprised, but then smiled, waving a hand back at her. The child's grin widened before she returned her gaze to her chalk drawing. I watched for a couple of moments before reminding myself why I was even here.
The lobby was as I remembered, locked glass doors that would only open if someone let you in. I punched the number I had been given into a rather old number pad and waited, hearing the incessant ringing. It continued for a while, and I was contemplating leaving when finally someone answered.
"Hello?" The voice, though staticky, was clearly female. "Who's this?"
"Simon Morris, I'm here to see my father's apartment."
There was a moment of silence before a buzzer sounded and there was a clicking sound. Recognizing it as the door unlocking, I hurried over and quickly grabbed the handle, pulling the door open and heading into the main building. As soon as I entered the main hallway, there was the forgotten assault of stale mustiness and spices. I had to cover my nose with my hand as I hurried up a few steps and into the hallway that led to the number I was given.
Why would he have chosen to live in such a place? I could not for the life of me fathom a reason. Surely there had to have been better places he could've chosen to rent, right? I assumed he had been renting, because who'd want to actually buy one of these apartments?
After a couple of minutes of walking down a rather narrow hallway, I finally reached the door I was looking for. I took a breath before removing my hand from my mouth. "Here goes nothing." Breathing out, I rapped on the door twice and waited. Not too long, mind you, as I could already hear footsteps from the other side of the door. There was the sound of a chain lock sliding, then a deadlock clicking, and lastly, the door actually opening.
It was awkward, to say the least. The woman before me was about my own age, dressed in a tank top and shorts, wavy black hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her eyes, though a striking green, seemed tired. She clearly lived here, that much I picked up from the way she was dressed as well as her stance in the doorway, judging whether I should be let in.
Was this my father's girlfriend? Or wife? She would have to be thirty years younger than him, at least. I probably shouldn't judge someone for wanting to be with a man so much older than they were… but why? The only reason I could see my father living here was because he didn't have enough money to live somewhere better, which would remove the incentive of any younger woman living with an older man… right?
"Who are you?" I asked, a little blunter than I'd hoped for.
She raised an eyebrow. "Kinda rude there," she muttered. "I live here. My name's Mary." She looked at me with a rather neutral gaze and then nodded. "I suppose you want to come in. Well, come on." She pushed the door open completely and moved to the side, motioning me to enter with a beckon of her hand.
I complied, unsure of what to expect when I entered. More mustiness, perhaps? Or maybe something completely the opposite? It was neither. As I passed through the rather small entrance, I seemed to enter the kitchen, and beyond that, an attached living and dining room. There were three doors to my left, which I assumed were bedrooms and a bathroom. It was rather cramped, much smaller than I was used to. I could not help notice that it was neither dirty or messy, nor did it smell odd like the hallway outside. Obviously, someone took care of this place.
"This is supposed to be my father's place." I looked at the woman, Mary, and decided to get back to business. "I came to… see to his belongings." Another terrible lie, but I had no better one in store at the moment.
"Heh." A small laugh left Mary, but she didn't seem amused. "You actually thought that you were the first? You were the last." She shook her head as she closed the door behind her, though she didn't lock it.
"What do you mean?"
"They came too, your brother and sister, but they came yesterday, with the same excuse." Mary shrugged. "Not sure what you guys are looking for. Clearly, you didn't know him at all if you thought he had something worth snatching. And anything he did, it's with those people." She motioned in the air with an impatient hand. "Those 'last will and testament' people, or whatever they're called. So you can stop lying about why you came and just spit it out."
"Fine," I replied, irritation in my voice obvious. Who did she think she was, talking to me like that? Maybe she lived here, but this was clearly my father's place! At least… that is what I had thought. I was actually not too sure now. "Who are you? I don't just mean your name. What are you in relation to my father?" My teeth ground with frustration I still harboured. "Or were you just another girl he slept with?"
By this time she had left the entrance and had made her way to one of the chairs in the dining room. I thought my blatant question might've offended her, but on the contrary, she seemed amused. "Not that it's any of your effing business if I was, but no, I wasn't sleeping with your dad." The amusement passed and another emotion found itself on her face. Restrained grief.
Mary looked at me for a moment before averting her eyes to look out of the window instead. "I know what you guys thought of him. He was the man who supposedly cheated on your mom. But to me, he was the father I never had." Her shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. "If it wasn't for him, me and my mom would've been in some homeless shelter I bet." I looked away from her face to her hands, seeing they were clenched tightly around her knees. As much as she was trying to seem calm and collected, it was obvious to me that she was feeling pain.
Yet, I didn't feel sympathy. If anything, I felt jealous. The notion was ridiculous to me, yet there it was, gnawing at my heart until I felt a sort of dull pain. I should've been the one feeling grief, not her. He had been my father, not hers...
What if he had been her father as well? It would make sense then, why he would want to take care of her. Some responsibility for the illegitimate child he created. Frankly, that thought gave me no comfort, but it did have sound reason.
"So…" I spoke slowly, still standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the apartment. "He was your father too "
Mary looked up at that, shaking her head. "No, I told you he was the father I never had. I don't have a clue who my real father is, and I don't give a crap about it either."
"Why did he take care of you then?" I knew I sounded impatient. I didn't know why this was so upsetting to me. It shouldn't have been, yet there I was, unable to remain calm. I did not like my father, so why did I care so much that he took care of another instead of me?
"Because he was a good person?" Mary raised an eyebrow at me.
"Bullshit," I replied.
"Look, you never said why you came here." Mary stood up from the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm being nice here, letting you come in my house, out of respect for your father. I don't give a rat's ass who you are, really."
I couldn't help but bristle inwardly, because what she said was the truth, as much as I hated it. I was being a jerk, intruding on her privacy and acting as if she should care about my thoughts and feelings. Even then, I couldn't bring myself to apologize and admit she was right.
"I came to see what kind of person my father was." I let out a derisive laugh before nodding. "And I think I know enough now. He chose a false family over the real one he already had." With that said, I turned and headed for the door.
The door was halfway open when I heard Mary speak once more. "He never cheated on your mom, you know." I heard footsteps coming close to me, but then they stopped. I had half a mind to leave but turned around anyway. She seemed a little less stiff now, as if unsure of herself.
"You're saying my mother lied?" I asked, a little incredulous.
"No, not exactly." She shook her head before sighing. "I just think she misunderstood, really. He told me what had happened… My mom and your dad, they used to be together when he met your mom. They broke up and your parents got together and I guess you were born. My mom had me around the same time…" She fiddled a little with the hem of her tank top before speaking once more. "Your dad wasn't the cheater… my mom was. That was the reason your dad even broke up with her and got together with your mom."
My forehead wrinkled as I processed what she said. "Then why-"
"My mom's a cheat and a liar." Mary seemed both embarrassed and upset. Clearly, this was a subject she did not like to touch. "She told your dad that I was his kid, and he… well, he was a nice guy, kind of gullible. He believed her… he believed I was his daughter. He got this place for us, all that time ago, and he'd been paying the rent for it. When your parents separated, he stayed here with us."
"And you're saying my mother just imagined it all then?"
Mary sighed and shrugged at my skepticism. "I'm saying my mom's a liar and a cheat. She easily convinced your dad I was his kid, hell, we didn't know any different until I was eighteen years old! It wasn't hard for her to make it seem as if your dad was having an affair to spite him when your mom caught him here…" She sighed and shrugged once more, as if she no longer cared.
"Look, nothing I say is going to make a difference to you." Now she seemed resigned. "You can think what you want about him, it's not gonna make a difference to me or you or anyone else. He's dead and in his grave, you're alive and…" She looked me over. "... obviously no longer in need of a parental figure."
"You can't fault me for having a hard time believing you."
"I'm not," Mary replied. "And I'm not even gonna ask you to change your opinion or give the benefit of the doubt. I'm not the boss of you or anyone else."
I had to admit, I did not know what to say after that. I wanted to be angry, and I had been, but it had all melted in the last few minutes, giving way to confusion. Closing a business deal was easier on the mind than this sort of thing. For a while, I simply stood there, not really looking at anything in particular, simply listening to the tick-tock of the clock hanging on the dining room wall.
"Can- may I have some water?" Mary seemed as surprised as I was with my request.
"Uh, yeah, sure." She scratched the back of her head before heading over to the kitchen sink. She paused when she reached the counter, looking back at me. "His room was the middle door there."
Did she expect that I actually wanted to see his room? Once again, my mind was fighting with itself. I wanted not to care, but the part of me I'll attribute to curiosity was adamant on seeing what lay behind the door. My teeth grit against each other before I nodded. "What the hell…"
It was like any other room. A bed, a closet, a computer table and chair. There was a bookshelf on one side of the bed, and a night table on the other side. It had been a long time since I smelled it, but there was the smell of my father's cologne. He'd always been a creature of habit.
I hated that I felt a twinge inside me when I saw an old framed photograph of the entire family on the night table. How cliche, really. I felt like an idiot, yet I couldn't keep myself from walking over and picking it up. With my jacket's sleeve, I wiped the dust off the glass and frame, all the while looking at the smiling faces of my family. I was fourteen in this picture, just a year before life had changed completely. The only reason I actually remembered when this photo was taken was because of my uncle's beach house in the background.
Debating for a moment, I nearly set the framed photo back down on the night table before changing my mind and slipping it in my jacket's inner pocket instead. When I turned away from the night table, I saw Mary standing in the doorway, silently holding a glass of water.
"Thanks." I was the kind of snob who only drank bottled water, but at the moment, I didn't really care. Acting as if I hadn't just taken the photograph, I drank the water in less that three gulps. I had to admit, it didn't taste any different than what I paid more than a dollar for.
I exited the room, heading to the kitchen and setting the glass on the counter. It was awkward, trying to be cordial after the way I had acted earlier. I was sure Mary would be more than glad to see the back of me exiting her apartment. Yet, I couldn't just leave without saying something.
Taking a breath, I opened my mouth to speak, and stopped. Mary was holding out a piece of paper. "What's this?" I asked, taking it from her.
"My number," she replied. Her hands were once more fiddling with her top. "If you, I dunno, have any questions or whatever…"
"Oh, okay." I was surprised, and it showed on my face as well. I hadn't expected anything of the sort. "I…" Would I take her up on her offer? I wasn't sure. "I'll keep it safe." I looked in the direction of the door, feeling a little easier about leaving now. "I should probably go now. Thank you for- thank you." I decided it was best to just keep it at that.
I thought about returning to the cemetery, but eventually, my cab reached my hotel, with no sight of serene trees or gravestones anywhere near. As fulfilling as that may have been, the truth was that visiting my father's grave was not a step I was ready to take yet. The bitterness I had held within my heart for fifteen years, whilst apparently unfair, couldn't be so easily washed away. It would take time for me to let go of my judgment, whether valid or not.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, if I remembered the quote right. Maybe today had been that single step that would lead me on the journey to understanding my father and letting go of my grievances.
As I later lay in bed that night, I looked at the piece of paper with Mary's name and number. I hesitated for a long time before finally adding it to my contacts. A second step?
Perhaps tomorrow there would be a third.
It was a week ago when I received that call, in a rather trying moment when I was entangled in sheets, having the time of my life with a beautiful lady I had met in the bar. I always turned my phone off during my nights with the ladies, but for some reason, this time I'd forgotten. I don't like to think about fate and destiny, so I say it was just a coincidence. I could've simply let the damn thing ring, but that night I had paused my attention to my lady friend and answered the phone. She hadn't been too pleased, that much I remembered.
The remainder of the night was something of a blur, and I can't for the life of me remember when she even left. I vaguely remember missing a couple of hundred dollar bills I had in my wallet, but that was nothing to me. I wasn't the sort of person who lived paycheck to paycheck; I was a budding businessman who had enough money that the loss of a few hundred dollars was tantamount to blowing them on a fancy dinner.
And yet, I found a reason to find a flight four days later, rather than immediately, to fly back to my birth town for my father's funeral. It was a cheaper flight than what I would've had to fly had I chosen to leave immediately. When I arrived and met my other siblings, a younger brother and sister, I gave them the feeble excuse of money for not flying right away. They saw through my lie, I could tell, but they weren't bothered to say anything about it. Maybe it was because they understood why.
The three of us had never forgiven our father for his infidelity. It was strange how bitter I felt about his sins of adultery, yet cast a blind eye to all of my own flaws and faults. It was always easier to look at others than myself, after all. Nevertheless, once my father's tryst had been exposed and my mother's heart broken, it wasn't long before they separated, and later, divorced. We had been old enough to choose whom we wished to live with; obviously, we all chose our mother. Our father had expelled from the house, and pretty much our lives. Where he lived after that, I had no clue, nor did I wish to learn of it.
Back to the present, even as I looked down upon his coffin in the grave, I couldn't find it in myself to forgive him completely. That being said, I was curious. It had been more than fifteen years since I'd last talked to him. What had he been up to?
It wasn't like I really cared. At least, I didn't wish to admit it to myself. There was a niggling thought in the back of my head, however, that just wouldn't leave. So, the day after the funeral, I called a few places and managed to get ahold of my father's address. A part of my mind was telling me I was an idiot for even thinking about visiting his place. The other part of my mind was winning the battle, and soon enough I was sitting in a taxi, heading his apartment's way.
I am not sure what I expected. Maybe a condominium apartment, or something of a duplex, perhaps. Instead, I ended up in a complex that seemed several years old, with cracked sidewalks and random graffiti on the faded red brick walls, though nothing too scandalous. I remembered these buildings from when I was a child; a few second cousins used to live here; maybe they still did. Apparently, it had been a den of drug use fifteen years ago. From the state of the place, I had no reason to believe otherwise. It looked stale, dusty, and frankly, not a place I'd want to visit.
Still, I paid the cab driver and resigned myself to appease my curiosity. A few children looked up from their sidewalk chalk art as I passed by, one giving me a toothy little grin as she waved. I blinked, surprised, but then smiled, waving a hand back at her. The child's grin widened before she returned her gaze to her chalk drawing. I watched for a couple of moments before reminding myself why I was even here.
The lobby was as I remembered, locked glass doors that would only open if someone let you in. I punched the number I had been given into a rather old number pad and waited, hearing the incessant ringing. It continued for a while, and I was contemplating leaving when finally someone answered.
"Hello?" The voice, though staticky, was clearly female. "Who's this?"
"Simon Morris, I'm here to see my father's apartment."
There was a moment of silence before a buzzer sounded and there was a clicking sound. Recognizing it as the door unlocking, I hurried over and quickly grabbed the handle, pulling the door open and heading into the main building. As soon as I entered the main hallway, there was the forgotten assault of stale mustiness and spices. I had to cover my nose with my hand as I hurried up a few steps and into the hallway that led to the number I was given.
Why would he have chosen to live in such a place? I could not for the life of me fathom a reason. Surely there had to have been better places he could've chosen to rent, right? I assumed he had been renting, because who'd want to actually buy one of these apartments?
After a couple of minutes of walking down a rather narrow hallway, I finally reached the door I was looking for. I took a breath before removing my hand from my mouth. "Here goes nothing." Breathing out, I rapped on the door twice and waited. Not too long, mind you, as I could already hear footsteps from the other side of the door. There was the sound of a chain lock sliding, then a deadlock clicking, and lastly, the door actually opening.
It was awkward, to say the least. The woman before me was about my own age, dressed in a tank top and shorts, wavy black hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her eyes, though a striking green, seemed tired. She clearly lived here, that much I picked up from the way she was dressed as well as her stance in the doorway, judging whether I should be let in.
Was this my father's girlfriend? Or wife? She would have to be thirty years younger than him, at least. I probably shouldn't judge someone for wanting to be with a man so much older than they were… but why? The only reason I could see my father living here was because he didn't have enough money to live somewhere better, which would remove the incentive of any younger woman living with an older man… right?
"Who are you?" I asked, a little blunter than I'd hoped for.
She raised an eyebrow. "Kinda rude there," she muttered. "I live here. My name's Mary." She looked at me with a rather neutral gaze and then nodded. "I suppose you want to come in. Well, come on." She pushed the door open completely and moved to the side, motioning me to enter with a beckon of her hand.
I complied, unsure of what to expect when I entered. More mustiness, perhaps? Or maybe something completely the opposite? It was neither. As I passed through the rather small entrance, I seemed to enter the kitchen, and beyond that, an attached living and dining room. There were three doors to my left, which I assumed were bedrooms and a bathroom. It was rather cramped, much smaller than I was used to. I could not help notice that it was neither dirty or messy, nor did it smell odd like the hallway outside. Obviously, someone took care of this place.
"This is supposed to be my father's place." I looked at the woman, Mary, and decided to get back to business. "I came to… see to his belongings." Another terrible lie, but I had no better one in store at the moment.
"Heh." A small laugh left Mary, but she didn't seem amused. "You actually thought that you were the first? You were the last." She shook her head as she closed the door behind her, though she didn't lock it.
"What do you mean?"
"They came too, your brother and sister, but they came yesterday, with the same excuse." Mary shrugged. "Not sure what you guys are looking for. Clearly, you didn't know him at all if you thought he had something worth snatching. And anything he did, it's with those people." She motioned in the air with an impatient hand. "Those 'last will and testament' people, or whatever they're called. So you can stop lying about why you came and just spit it out."
"Fine," I replied, irritation in my voice obvious. Who did she think she was, talking to me like that? Maybe she lived here, but this was clearly my father's place! At least… that is what I had thought. I was actually not too sure now. "Who are you? I don't just mean your name. What are you in relation to my father?" My teeth ground with frustration I still harboured. "Or were you just another girl he slept with?"
By this time she had left the entrance and had made her way to one of the chairs in the dining room. I thought my blatant question might've offended her, but on the contrary, she seemed amused. "Not that it's any of your effing business if I was, but no, I wasn't sleeping with your dad." The amusement passed and another emotion found itself on her face. Restrained grief.
Mary looked at me for a moment before averting her eyes to look out of the window instead. "I know what you guys thought of him. He was the man who supposedly cheated on your mom. But to me, he was the father I never had." Her shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. "If it wasn't for him, me and my mom would've been in some homeless shelter I bet." I looked away from her face to her hands, seeing they were clenched tightly around her knees. As much as she was trying to seem calm and collected, it was obvious to me that she was feeling pain.
Yet, I didn't feel sympathy. If anything, I felt jealous. The notion was ridiculous to me, yet there it was, gnawing at my heart until I felt a sort of dull pain. I should've been the one feeling grief, not her. He had been my father, not hers...
What if he had been her father as well? It would make sense then, why he would want to take care of her. Some responsibility for the illegitimate child he created. Frankly, that thought gave me no comfort, but it did have sound reason.
"So…" I spoke slowly, still standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the apartment. "He was your father too "
Mary looked up at that, shaking her head. "No, I told you he was the father I never had. I don't have a clue who my real father is, and I don't give a crap about it either."
"Why did he take care of you then?" I knew I sounded impatient. I didn't know why this was so upsetting to me. It shouldn't have been, yet there I was, unable to remain calm. I did not like my father, so why did I care so much that he took care of another instead of me?
"Because he was a good person?" Mary raised an eyebrow at me.
"Bullshit," I replied.
"Look, you never said why you came here." Mary stood up from the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm being nice here, letting you come in my house, out of respect for your father. I don't give a rat's ass who you are, really."
I couldn't help but bristle inwardly, because what she said was the truth, as much as I hated it. I was being a jerk, intruding on her privacy and acting as if she should care about my thoughts and feelings. Even then, I couldn't bring myself to apologize and admit she was right.
"I came to see what kind of person my father was." I let out a derisive laugh before nodding. "And I think I know enough now. He chose a false family over the real one he already had." With that said, I turned and headed for the door.
The door was halfway open when I heard Mary speak once more. "He never cheated on your mom, you know." I heard footsteps coming close to me, but then they stopped. I had half a mind to leave but turned around anyway. She seemed a little less stiff now, as if unsure of herself.
"You're saying my mother lied?" I asked, a little incredulous.
"No, not exactly." She shook her head before sighing. "I just think she misunderstood, really. He told me what had happened… My mom and your dad, they used to be together when he met your mom. They broke up and your parents got together and I guess you were born. My mom had me around the same time…" She fiddled a little with the hem of her tank top before speaking once more. "Your dad wasn't the cheater… my mom was. That was the reason your dad even broke up with her and got together with your mom."
My forehead wrinkled as I processed what she said. "Then why-"
"My mom's a cheat and a liar." Mary seemed both embarrassed and upset. Clearly, this was a subject she did not like to touch. "She told your dad that I was his kid, and he… well, he was a nice guy, kind of gullible. He believed her… he believed I was his daughter. He got this place for us, all that time ago, and he'd been paying the rent for it. When your parents separated, he stayed here with us."
"And you're saying my mother just imagined it all then?"
Mary sighed and shrugged at my skepticism. "I'm saying my mom's a liar and a cheat. She easily convinced your dad I was his kid, hell, we didn't know any different until I was eighteen years old! It wasn't hard for her to make it seem as if your dad was having an affair to spite him when your mom caught him here…" She sighed and shrugged once more, as if she no longer cared.
"Look, nothing I say is going to make a difference to you." Now she seemed resigned. "You can think what you want about him, it's not gonna make a difference to me or you or anyone else. He's dead and in his grave, you're alive and…" She looked me over. "... obviously no longer in need of a parental figure."
"You can't fault me for having a hard time believing you."
"I'm not," Mary replied. "And I'm not even gonna ask you to change your opinion or give the benefit of the doubt. I'm not the boss of you or anyone else."
I had to admit, I did not know what to say after that. I wanted to be angry, and I had been, but it had all melted in the last few minutes, giving way to confusion. Closing a business deal was easier on the mind than this sort of thing. For a while, I simply stood there, not really looking at anything in particular, simply listening to the tick-tock of the clock hanging on the dining room wall.
"Can- may I have some water?" Mary seemed as surprised as I was with my request.
"Uh, yeah, sure." She scratched the back of her head before heading over to the kitchen sink. She paused when she reached the counter, looking back at me. "His room was the middle door there."
Did she expect that I actually wanted to see his room? Once again, my mind was fighting with itself. I wanted not to care, but the part of me I'll attribute to curiosity was adamant on seeing what lay behind the door. My teeth grit against each other before I nodded. "What the hell…"
It was like any other room. A bed, a closet, a computer table and chair. There was a bookshelf on one side of the bed, and a night table on the other side. It had been a long time since I smelled it, but there was the smell of my father's cologne. He'd always been a creature of habit.
I hated that I felt a twinge inside me when I saw an old framed photograph of the entire family on the night table. How cliche, really. I felt like an idiot, yet I couldn't keep myself from walking over and picking it up. With my jacket's sleeve, I wiped the dust off the glass and frame, all the while looking at the smiling faces of my family. I was fourteen in this picture, just a year before life had changed completely. The only reason I actually remembered when this photo was taken was because of my uncle's beach house in the background.
Debating for a moment, I nearly set the framed photo back down on the night table before changing my mind and slipping it in my jacket's inner pocket instead. When I turned away from the night table, I saw Mary standing in the doorway, silently holding a glass of water.
"Thanks." I was the kind of snob who only drank bottled water, but at the moment, I didn't really care. Acting as if I hadn't just taken the photograph, I drank the water in less that three gulps. I had to admit, it didn't taste any different than what I paid more than a dollar for.
I exited the room, heading to the kitchen and setting the glass on the counter. It was awkward, trying to be cordial after the way I had acted earlier. I was sure Mary would be more than glad to see the back of me exiting her apartment. Yet, I couldn't just leave without saying something.
Taking a breath, I opened my mouth to speak, and stopped. Mary was holding out a piece of paper. "What's this?" I asked, taking it from her.
"My number," she replied. Her hands were once more fiddling with her top. "If you, I dunno, have any questions or whatever…"
"Oh, okay." I was surprised, and it showed on my face as well. I hadn't expected anything of the sort. "I…" Would I take her up on her offer? I wasn't sure. "I'll keep it safe." I looked in the direction of the door, feeling a little easier about leaving now. "I should probably go now. Thank you for- thank you." I decided it was best to just keep it at that.
I thought about returning to the cemetery, but eventually, my cab reached my hotel, with no sight of serene trees or gravestones anywhere near. As fulfilling as that may have been, the truth was that visiting my father's grave was not a step I was ready to take yet. The bitterness I had held within my heart for fifteen years, whilst apparently unfair, couldn't be so easily washed away. It would take time for me to let go of my judgment, whether valid or not.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, if I remembered the quote right. Maybe today had been that single step that would lead me on the journey to understanding my father and letting go of my grievances.
As I later lay in bed that night, I looked at the piece of paper with Mary's name and number. I hesitated for a long time before finally adding it to my contacts. A second step?
Perhaps tomorrow there would be a third.
She was late today,
She is never late,
Our meetings never meet any delay
We made promises to be on time.
The ticking clock
Counts ever down,
Her absence leaves me an unmated sock
One soul that searches for its matching pair,
Until her frock
Dances uphill.
How short of wind
How short of time
She starts to speak, continues without end,
Soft sobs will pierce the birdsong through the night,
An ear to bend
I do have not
Nor thread with which her heart some soul may mend,
I only have an endless ticking clock.
I offer love
She shies away
Her only comfort comes from Him above
I know I will hold her a future day.
"What can you give,"
I hear her ask,
"So that the ones I lost may once more live?"
"'Tis nothing. My madame," I call reply,
"For as a sieve
Cannot hold sand
So can those who now no longer live
Exist within this lot of earthly land."
She pauses now
Choking her tears,
"Tell me if this was your work. Pray tell, how?"
I have no words to say to ease her fears.
She was sad today,
She is never sad,
Unfortunately I've no time to stay,
I've work to do that must be done on time,
Yet she must say
One final thing.
"How could you bring
This pain to me?"
And I respond, "I have said no such thing
In order to imply you'll feel no pain,
So do not sing
A song of lies,
Unless you want your rested earthly being
To sleep amongst a pile of dead-men's flies."
"You promised me
To be on time,
To show a world of which men can not see,
And keep all earthly harm out of my path.
How can it be
That I'm not cut,
Yet wounds slice at my heart ferociously?"
"Without heartache, a girl is still a girl."
"Why now, why me,
Why you, my friend?"
"I know you'll come around eventually.
I'm only doing what is best for you."
She ran away
That girl, my friend,
I lost one of the few of them that day
Who see me, not the monster which I am.
I find her soon
Her white frock red
To match with her the color of the moon
On this a rare momentous night.
Again a cough,
More crimson pours,
A stain that no soul will ever get off
As my friend delivers some more words.
"Did same disease
Which caught my love
Now find a way to bring me to my knees?"
"The cause I know naught of. Only the time."
A gentle breeze
Serenades,
My gazeless void looks down and now it sees,
These empty sockets see a midnight struck.
I ask for whom
A bell now tolls
For I have claimed the bride as well as groom
To honeymoon in an eternal light.
I offer hand,
My friend accepts,
And off into the night, to a new land
Which I have catered to since meeting her.
I planted seeds
So they may grow
Into a garden filled with pious deeds
Free of sin, evil, and deeds gone wrong.
Good souls flower,
Bad souls made weeds,
But I reap them the same by hour and hour
As all are welcome into Heaven's gates.
And yet I strive
To fill this plot
With all the ones she loved in time alive,
Forbidden gift to her in Paradise.
After the toil
I lay her down
Her socks grow green and brown with garden soil
To match the color of her lover's suit,
She is my foil
So full of life,
The love within so sweet that it may spoil,
So full of life even when in my arms,
Her heart may boil
With full passion,
Yet between us like water and oil
A line is drawn and I must draw away.
"Friend why must you
Leave us alone
In this beautiful garden that you grew?"
"My madame, it is what is best for you."
My mate's at peace,
My clock still runs,
In Paradise her life has paid its lease,
Her friends and family are at peace too.
She is happy now
Joyful always,
My job complete I give a final bow.
On time, I shall return to somber earth.
She is never late,
Our meetings never meet any delay
We made promises to be on time.
The ticking clock
Counts ever down,
Her absence leaves me an unmated sock
One soul that searches for its matching pair,
Until her frock
Dances uphill.
How short of wind
How short of time
She starts to speak, continues without end,
Soft sobs will pierce the birdsong through the night,
An ear to bend
I do have not
Nor thread with which her heart some soul may mend,
I only have an endless ticking clock.
I offer love
She shies away
Her only comfort comes from Him above
I know I will hold her a future day.
"What can you give,"
I hear her ask,
"So that the ones I lost may once more live?"
"'Tis nothing. My madame," I call reply,
"For as a sieve
Cannot hold sand
So can those who now no longer live
Exist within this lot of earthly land."
She pauses now
Choking her tears,
"Tell me if this was your work. Pray tell, how?"
I have no words to say to ease her fears.
She was sad today,
She is never sad,
Unfortunately I've no time to stay,
I've work to do that must be done on time,
Yet she must say
One final thing.
"How could you bring
This pain to me?"
And I respond, "I have said no such thing
In order to imply you'll feel no pain,
So do not sing
A song of lies,
Unless you want your rested earthly being
To sleep amongst a pile of dead-men's flies."
"You promised me
To be on time,
To show a world of which men can not see,
And keep all earthly harm out of my path.
How can it be
That I'm not cut,
Yet wounds slice at my heart ferociously?"
"Without heartache, a girl is still a girl."
"Why now, why me,
Why you, my friend?"
"I know you'll come around eventually.
I'm only doing what is best for you."
She ran away
That girl, my friend,
I lost one of the few of them that day
Who see me, not the monster which I am.
I find her soon
Her white frock red
To match with her the color of the moon
On this a rare momentous night.
Again a cough,
More crimson pours,
A stain that no soul will ever get off
As my friend delivers some more words.
"Did same disease
Which caught my love
Now find a way to bring me to my knees?"
"The cause I know naught of. Only the time."
A gentle breeze
Serenades,
My gazeless void looks down and now it sees,
These empty sockets see a midnight struck.
I ask for whom
A bell now tolls
For I have claimed the bride as well as groom
To honeymoon in an eternal light.
I offer hand,
My friend accepts,
And off into the night, to a new land
Which I have catered to since meeting her.
I planted seeds
So they may grow
Into a garden filled with pious deeds
Free of sin, evil, and deeds gone wrong.
Good souls flower,
Bad souls made weeds,
But I reap them the same by hour and hour
As all are welcome into Heaven's gates.
And yet I strive
To fill this plot
With all the ones she loved in time alive,
Forbidden gift to her in Paradise.
After the toil
I lay her down
Her socks grow green and brown with garden soil
To match the color of her lover's suit,
She is my foil
So full of life,
The love within so sweet that it may spoil,
So full of life even when in my arms,
Her heart may boil
With full passion,
Yet between us like water and oil
A line is drawn and I must draw away.
"Friend why must you
Leave us alone
In this beautiful garden that you grew?"
"My madame, it is what is best for you."
My mate's at peace,
My clock still runs,
In Paradise her life has paid its lease,
Her friends and family are at peace too.
She is happy now
Joyful always,
My job complete I give a final bow.
On time, I shall return to somber earth.
I remember clearly what happened that night. It was like any other night, except everything was far too bright. The moon had been full, sparkling the world below with its dim glow. The skyscrapers loomed overhead, lit up with the happiness of all. A sea of smiling faces surrounded me, carefree and joyful despite what misery may come tomorrow. The wind played with me like a doll, ravaging its way through my skin to the deepest part of my bones.
You see, it was the dead of winter, and I was dying.
It wasn't often that people died. At least, that's what everyone wanted to believe. If they could go about their lives without uselessly worrying about others' misfortune, that would be true contentment. Or, perhaps, it would be just pure selfishness. Even then, they ignored the plight of the one person who had a say in all their fates.
As I walked through the snow-covered streets, melodies of laughter drifted through the crisp air. The terrible burning in my chest shot up through my neck, trying desperately to reach my brain in my one moment of weakness. I grunted, despising such cheer for distracting me even for a moment. Envy was a terrible reason to die so soon, and it had almost killed me. Pushing through the swarms of people, I trudged slowly towards my ultimate goal.
Somewhere, deep inside, I hoped that he wouldn't be there. That I was wrong about his true identity, that years of planning had come to nothing. But the poison in my veins was evidence enough, and I knew it was useless to cling to false hope. Even during Christmas, when love and good cheer were meant to be in great abundance. I had always hated this time of year, but now I wished to celebrate just like the rest of them.
Foolish.
I straightened, my throat closing as I felt an invisible hand wrap around my neck. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think as pure terror turned my sweat into blood. Claws sliced through my skin like paper, trickles of red dripping down onto the pure white snow. Surely now I was going to die.
Just as suddenly as it came, it was gone, leaving me gasping and wheezing for air. I fell to my knees, trembling. I had felt it. That monster's anger and lust for blood. She had wanted to kill me, right then and there. But she couldn't. She needed me, and I needed her. I couldn't die yet, or I would spend an eternity in agony. Taking a shuddering breath, I forced myself to my feet, moving with more haste towards my destination. I didn't even care as I bumped my way through the crowd. Like it always was, no one noticed my plight. Even if they did, they did nothing for it. It had always been like this, and it always would be.
Swiping away the blood at my neck, I tried to ignore the fact that the wounds had already healed. I tried to ignore the fact that, after all this was over, I would never be the same. It's not like I had ever been normal. Not with that monster invading every aspect of my life.
I turned the corner, finally released from the crowd onto an empty residential street. I scanned the building numbers quickly, feeling her impatience grow with every second. 1004, 1006, 1008…
I didn't even need to look at the number to know I was in the right place. Compared to the bright and cheerful apartments surrounding it, this one was dark and uninviting. It reeked of death, but it was my last chance. Still, I hesitated. I knew what was waiting for me, but I didn't want to face it. I didn't want to face him.
Move!
It was like my body had a mind of its own, propelling me towards the front door. With rusted hinges and a broken lock, it took no trouble to open it. It swung open silently, much to my surprise and relief as I stepped inside. It didn't last long. The smell of decay assaulted my senses, making my eyes water and my throat burn. The poison tried to take its opportunity then, and I cried out as a thousand needles seemed to prick my neck all at once.
"My, my…you look like shit."
I froze just a few steps in the entryway, my heart feeling like it was going to break into a million pieces. I turned, slowly but surely, towards the man who had somehow come in behind me. I had expected to see him here, but that didn't lessen the heartbreak I felt upon seeing his face. The one person I had ever come to love, here to mock my inevitable demise.
He looked just as I remembered, even the smug expression that now darkened his features. The dark ruffle of hair, the stubble on his chin that he could never quite get rid of, those piercing silver eyes. All along, those eyes had doomed us both. I knew what he was, and he knew what I was. All because of those eyes that could see into another's soul.
As I stood in shock and pain, she stepped in. For once, I allowed her. I knew what had to be done, but I could never do it on my own. Damn it all, I needed her more than she needed me.
"Don't boast. Death was always part of my existence," I heard myself say. The words were nothing but hostile, yet he seemed entirely unaffected. In fact, he even dared to laugh. She glared daggers at him, but it quickly dissolved into a grimace of pain as the poison once again began its attack. As soon as it reached my brain, I was dead. We both were. All three of us knew it.
"For someone as esteemed as you, you were damn easy to fool," he quipped, taking nothing but pleasure in our pain. "Who knew the Queen of the Damned could be so damn gullible? When the Archangels had given me this task, I had thought it would be more of a challenge. How disappointing."
I screamed as the poison split me open from the inside, my heart finally too broken to resist. I fell to the ground, sobbing tears of blood as I felt my soul being ripped into pieces. Horrible, eternal darkness swept over me, pulling me in. I struggled, kicking and wailing. It sank its teeth into me, dragging me to the depths of Hell.
I don't want to die!
I shuddered, eyes opening slowly. I was on the ground, staring at the dilapidated ceiling of that old building. He was only a few feet away, sword in hand and expression dark. The sword sparkled despite the dim light, marking it as a Holy Sword. The only real thing that can kill a demon. But I wasn't just any demon.
"So you've finally managed to kill her, after all these years." He glowered at me, as if that would intimidate me. I laughed, leaping to my feet in the blink of an eye. He raised the sword, clearly prepared to sacrifice his miserable life to finally end mine. "It doesn't matter. I'll kill you all the same, even if you do still have her face."
I cocked my head to the side, smirking. "Oh dear, you really don't know anything, do you? Just as expected from Gabriel's errand boy. That vessel never had a soul, even though she thought she did. She was an abomination of nature, created for the sole purpose of keeping me trapped. But, thanks to you, I'm finally free."
I didn't hesitate. In a second, I was in his face, hand wrapped around his throat. The sword clattered to the ground several feet away, unreachable even with his strength. He showed nothing, but I could feel the delicious spike of fear emanating from his very essence. This had been a fun little past time, but the game was over.
"Sorry to disappoint you, my dear," I whispered as I shoved my other hand through his chest, fingers curling around his soul. "You see, I've had my eye on your life for the last millennium. Before you were even born, I've been planning for this moment. You thought you could fool me? You thought you were the first? You were the last. The last person to ever try to kill me. Because now, with this bit of power, I can finally take back what is rightfully mine. So maybe I should thank you sincerely, dear Progenitor, for falling into my trap."
His eyes widened at the title. It was a name that had been given only once before in history, to the man who had slain my husband. I smiled devilishly, tightening my grip on his life. He screamed in pure agony, but no one could hear him except me. It was said that having your soul ripped out caused pain worse than a thousand crucifixions. I always wondered if that were true. Surely such pathetic creatures would die before they could withstand that kind of torture.
Without hesitation, I ripped away his life and the world's only chance. As I swallowed it whole, pure adrenaline rushed through my veins. My body stretched and changed, horns ripping through skull and skin. The pain was like pure bliss as I finally regained what I had lost all those years ago. His lifeless corpse crumbled into ashes, scattering with the slight breeze from the cracks in the walls.
With a sigh, I left that wretched place, wondering for a brief moment what that man's name was. That vessel might have remembered, but she had been erased from existence. Along with her pathetic human emotions. Falling in love had been such a nuisance, but it was worth it in the end. Now, I could take back the entirety of my Creation.
"Are you ready, Brother? Hell is coming for you."
Laughter echoed throughout that Christmas night. The last night peace was ever known to the world.
You see, it was the dead of winter, and I was dying.
It wasn't often that people died. At least, that's what everyone wanted to believe. If they could go about their lives without uselessly worrying about others' misfortune, that would be true contentment. Or, perhaps, it would be just pure selfishness. Even then, they ignored the plight of the one person who had a say in all their fates.
As I walked through the snow-covered streets, melodies of laughter drifted through the crisp air. The terrible burning in my chest shot up through my neck, trying desperately to reach my brain in my one moment of weakness. I grunted, despising such cheer for distracting me even for a moment. Envy was a terrible reason to die so soon, and it had almost killed me. Pushing through the swarms of people, I trudged slowly towards my ultimate goal.
Somewhere, deep inside, I hoped that he wouldn't be there. That I was wrong about his true identity, that years of planning had come to nothing. But the poison in my veins was evidence enough, and I knew it was useless to cling to false hope. Even during Christmas, when love and good cheer were meant to be in great abundance. I had always hated this time of year, but now I wished to celebrate just like the rest of them.
Foolish.
I straightened, my throat closing as I felt an invisible hand wrap around my neck. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think as pure terror turned my sweat into blood. Claws sliced through my skin like paper, trickles of red dripping down onto the pure white snow. Surely now I was going to die.
Just as suddenly as it came, it was gone, leaving me gasping and wheezing for air. I fell to my knees, trembling. I had felt it. That monster's anger and lust for blood. She had wanted to kill me, right then and there. But she couldn't. She needed me, and I needed her. I couldn't die yet, or I would spend an eternity in agony. Taking a shuddering breath, I forced myself to my feet, moving with more haste towards my destination. I didn't even care as I bumped my way through the crowd. Like it always was, no one noticed my plight. Even if they did, they did nothing for it. It had always been like this, and it always would be.
Swiping away the blood at my neck, I tried to ignore the fact that the wounds had already healed. I tried to ignore the fact that, after all this was over, I would never be the same. It's not like I had ever been normal. Not with that monster invading every aspect of my life.
I turned the corner, finally released from the crowd onto an empty residential street. I scanned the building numbers quickly, feeling her impatience grow with every second. 1004, 1006, 1008…
I didn't even need to look at the number to know I was in the right place. Compared to the bright and cheerful apartments surrounding it, this one was dark and uninviting. It reeked of death, but it was my last chance. Still, I hesitated. I knew what was waiting for me, but I didn't want to face it. I didn't want to face him.
Move!
It was like my body had a mind of its own, propelling me towards the front door. With rusted hinges and a broken lock, it took no trouble to open it. It swung open silently, much to my surprise and relief as I stepped inside. It didn't last long. The smell of decay assaulted my senses, making my eyes water and my throat burn. The poison tried to take its opportunity then, and I cried out as a thousand needles seemed to prick my neck all at once.
"My, my…you look like shit."
I froze just a few steps in the entryway, my heart feeling like it was going to break into a million pieces. I turned, slowly but surely, towards the man who had somehow come in behind me. I had expected to see him here, but that didn't lessen the heartbreak I felt upon seeing his face. The one person I had ever come to love, here to mock my inevitable demise.
He looked just as I remembered, even the smug expression that now darkened his features. The dark ruffle of hair, the stubble on his chin that he could never quite get rid of, those piercing silver eyes. All along, those eyes had doomed us both. I knew what he was, and he knew what I was. All because of those eyes that could see into another's soul.
As I stood in shock and pain, she stepped in. For once, I allowed her. I knew what had to be done, but I could never do it on my own. Damn it all, I needed her more than she needed me.
"Don't boast. Death was always part of my existence," I heard myself say. The words were nothing but hostile, yet he seemed entirely unaffected. In fact, he even dared to laugh. She glared daggers at him, but it quickly dissolved into a grimace of pain as the poison once again began its attack. As soon as it reached my brain, I was dead. We both were. All three of us knew it.
"For someone as esteemed as you, you were damn easy to fool," he quipped, taking nothing but pleasure in our pain. "Who knew the Queen of the Damned could be so damn gullible? When the Archangels had given me this task, I had thought it would be more of a challenge. How disappointing."
I screamed as the poison split me open from the inside, my heart finally too broken to resist. I fell to the ground, sobbing tears of blood as I felt my soul being ripped into pieces. Horrible, eternal darkness swept over me, pulling me in. I struggled, kicking and wailing. It sank its teeth into me, dragging me to the depths of Hell.
I don't want to die!
I shuddered, eyes opening slowly. I was on the ground, staring at the dilapidated ceiling of that old building. He was only a few feet away, sword in hand and expression dark. The sword sparkled despite the dim light, marking it as a Holy Sword. The only real thing that can kill a demon. But I wasn't just any demon.
"So you've finally managed to kill her, after all these years." He glowered at me, as if that would intimidate me. I laughed, leaping to my feet in the blink of an eye. He raised the sword, clearly prepared to sacrifice his miserable life to finally end mine. "It doesn't matter. I'll kill you all the same, even if you do still have her face."
I cocked my head to the side, smirking. "Oh dear, you really don't know anything, do you? Just as expected from Gabriel's errand boy. That vessel never had a soul, even though she thought she did. She was an abomination of nature, created for the sole purpose of keeping me trapped. But, thanks to you, I'm finally free."
I didn't hesitate. In a second, I was in his face, hand wrapped around his throat. The sword clattered to the ground several feet away, unreachable even with his strength. He showed nothing, but I could feel the delicious spike of fear emanating from his very essence. This had been a fun little past time, but the game was over.
"Sorry to disappoint you, my dear," I whispered as I shoved my other hand through his chest, fingers curling around his soul. "You see, I've had my eye on your life for the last millennium. Before you were even born, I've been planning for this moment. You thought you could fool me? You thought you were the first? You were the last. The last person to ever try to kill me. Because now, with this bit of power, I can finally take back what is rightfully mine. So maybe I should thank you sincerely, dear Progenitor, for falling into my trap."
His eyes widened at the title. It was a name that had been given only once before in history, to the man who had slain my husband. I smiled devilishly, tightening my grip on his life. He screamed in pure agony, but no one could hear him except me. It was said that having your soul ripped out caused pain worse than a thousand crucifixions. I always wondered if that were true. Surely such pathetic creatures would die before they could withstand that kind of torture.
Without hesitation, I ripped away his life and the world's only chance. As I swallowed it whole, pure adrenaline rushed through my veins. My body stretched and changed, horns ripping through skull and skin. The pain was like pure bliss as I finally regained what I had lost all those years ago. His lifeless corpse crumbled into ashes, scattering with the slight breeze from the cracks in the walls.
With a sigh, I left that wretched place, wondering for a brief moment what that man's name was. That vessel might have remembered, but she had been erased from existence. Along with her pathetic human emotions. Falling in love had been such a nuisance, but it was worth it in the end. Now, I could take back the entirety of my Creation.
"Are you ready, Brother? Hell is coming for you."
Laughter echoed throughout that Christmas night. The last night peace was ever known to the world.
"What was it like down there?" My grandson asks innocently, sitting on my lap as I rock in my chair. It's out on the patio so I can look over the sea, where my home truly is. In my old age though, living by the beach is probably the best for me anyway.
"Ah child" I smile and close my eyes. "It was like I'd slipped, tripped, and fell into a pleasant dream." I say after a moment of contemplative thought. Jonas tilts his head and blinks. He doesn't need to say anything, I know why he's confused. Most don't think of dying as a pleasant experience.
"Bad things happened yes, but my time down there was when the relationship between your grandfather and I changed" I smile, always happy to share my story with the children, it's a way for me to re-live it all.....
–
"All hands hoay!" Shivers, the quartermaster, shouts down below deck. I know him as Kip but he'd asked me not to use it in front of the men, the affectionate nickname wasn't exactly one to strike fear. "Batten down th' hatches! Make sure them dead eyes be shut tight! 'tis shapin' up to be a bad un!"
Startled by the shouting and the sudden upheaval of sleeping and lounging bodies, I stand up too and look over at the old man I was sitting beside. He's corking his flask as he heaves out a sigh. Bill is easily the oldest sailor I've ever seen, and he looks it. His eyes are sagging and half his face droops so that the rum dribbles a bit down his chin, he wipes it away and licks his thin lips.
Greasy scraggly men rush about us, some stumbling over themselves having been dislodged from their hammock and dropped into a groggy wakefulness.
Most of them are instantly alert, they move with purpose, a mass of organized Chaos, everyone knows their job and the dangers of a storm, except me.
"What's he mean Bill?" I ask, old Bills been helping me learn the language used aboard the ship, the old salt has been at sea for the better part of forty years and intends to die out here when the time comes.
"Storms a commin', a bad un" he answers and starts walking off. He's stocky and nothing but muscle beneath withered tan skin.
"No I mean, What are dead eyes?" I clarify as I follow him. He's approaching sixty but I'm the one stumbling all over the place, the sea even more rough than normal. Even after months on the ship I haven't got my sea legs and the unfamiliar terms still confuse me. Try as I might, I'm beginning to think this life is not for me after all.
"Dead eyes cover th' port holes, keeps us from takin' on water, an worse case, blowin' a hole in er side" Old Bill explains.
"Shove aside land lubber!" One man says as he pushes past. As if I needed more proof of my shortcomings. Still, I shove back and give the best scowl I can muster, it's expected.
"Mind your own way scurvy harbor dog!" I blurt out the first insult I can come up with. I have to keep up some resemblance of toughness.
Close by I hear Bill bellowing at someone "Show a leg!" he kicks a man passed out on the floor beneath his hammock "Useless blaggard" he mutters and shakes his head as he moves on.
As we reach the steps leading up to the deck. The storms already rocking us more violently and I can hear the rain pelting the sails, each drop sounding like a stone threatening to tear them apart. Thunder can barely be distinguished between the sounds of rain, waves and shouting men. I much preferred it when the ship was becalmed.
I let more bodies jog pass, including Bill, who takes the steps two at a time. When I decide to attempt the assent, I grab any hand hold I can find. I stop when water crashes over the rails and waterfalls down around my feet, adding to the dread rising in me. If I can't handle myself well when I get up there, I could be dumped off into the sea and be lost to it. I freeze, one foot on the first step. I could go up there and risk death or stay down here and ensure being left at the next port, if I'm lucky, more likely, fish bait though.
"Come on!" Bill shouts down impatiently.
Prompted by Bill, I make a decision, I move again, taking another step up instead of back, my heart leaping into my throat.
My legs feel like a couple of wobbly noodles, that's about the amount of control I've gained over them, only now they are wet noodles. It takes every bit of focus I've got to get them working right as I go up, slipping and sliding from side to side. The only thing keeping me from falling are the handholds I've found. I heave up the last couple of steps, using mostly my arms rather than my useless noodles.
Just as I reach the top, the ship tilts violently towards the port side. With nothing to hold, I stumble, slip on the slick deck, fall and slide on my backside. I try to grab something but it's useless until I crash into the base of the main mast. Grunting I wait until the ship rocks back with a slap, then grab on to a dangling rope and haul myself to my feet, ignoring the growing pain in my ribs, I've probably bruised them.
"Make fast swabbie!" Someone orders and throws a bundle of coiled ropes into my hands. I've been taught the knots, it's the one thing I can do well, so I quickly go to work tying the ropes to the jackline someone has already stretched from the bow to the stern on both the port and starboard side. Lives depend on me so I work as quick as I can, hanging the loose coils over an unused belay pin so I can work with one at a time.
The salt air blasts against my face in angry bursts and my feet slide on the slick deck I have to hang on to the jackline as I move, tie on a rope that a man grabs as soon as it's tied, and puts it around himself. I'm surprised I'm not tumbling all over the place like some loose cannon ball. I can be proud of that.
I had just grabbed hold of my own line and had it tied to the belay pin when I hear men shouting over the storm "Reef Sails!" beginning in the captains voice and repeated over the roaring winds by the quartermaster. After that I can't hear it. Men are already obeying the command, swinging up on to the rigging to furl the sails, leaving about a foot of stretched canvas to catch the wind and give the helmsman more control.
"Alison!" I hear not a command but my name shouted over the noise. It's Shivers, the quartermaster again. He doesn't often address me directly and never by my full name. We'd managed to keep my identity a secret thus far. Not even the ship cat could counter the bad luck a woman at sea.
I turn in time to see the horrified look cross Kips face. By the time I've realized my mistake, water is crashing down over my head and before I know whats happening my feet are off the deck and I'm plunging into the tempestuous sea's. My hands flail out searching for something but there's nothing but water, my securing lines been swept away before I could tie it around myself.
As I'm swallowed by the rampaging ocean I feel like I'm being churned in a mixer ,I don't know what way is up anymore. I open my eyes but the harsh salty water bites so hard I clamp them shut again and decide to focus on not giving up what little air I managed to keep in my lungs. I'm going to need it.
Desperate I pump my legs and swim in the direction I hope is up but I'm forced back and again flipped. I don't have any control of my limbs as I'm barreled deeper into the sea. My head begins to feel heavy and my chest grows tight. I'm going to die, I'm certain of it now. What little air I had is used up or knocked out of me by the strength of the seas punches.
I stop struggling, letting my arms and legs go limp as I'm tossed yet again, there's no point in fighting her, she's angry and too strong for me. I'm not an old salt like Bill, I've no idea what I'm doing. I remember Bill telling me "Don't fight th' sea, roll wit' her, she's lived longer 'n if ye treat her right, she'll take care o' ye"
I'm vaguely aware that I'm colliding with something but it's no use, I'm taking in too much water, the airs gone and I know I'm drowning, just as well, I'm not much of a pirate anyway, Kips always saying so. Taking Bills advice, I roll with her, let her claim me as an offering to spare the crew.
–
"I know you'll come around eventually. I'm only doing what's best for you." My father says in a raised voice, it's not convincing when he says it like that. I don't look at him, I can't, if I do I'll scream at him again. We've had this argument before. Deep down I know he is trying, but, I know he wishes he had a son and not a stubborn daughter, I wish it too sometimes, just to stop the fighting.
"Sweetheart just listen, you're getting on in years and Lord Baxton is a perfectly respectable match and he's been nothing but charming. He told me himself just before dinner that no other woman has caught his eye like you have" My mother offers in a more gentle and inviting tone, I almost want to believe it. Her I can look at, so I do.
My mother's been ill for months and she's become so frail. Looking at her I can't help but feel the guilt encroaching like storm clouds in summer. I know her one and only dream she has left is to see me married. Who am I to deny her last desire in life?
Letting out a sigh I unfold my arms and let them fall. Nobody can break through my wall like she can. She's never done me wrong, only loved me. As I look at her, I realize that I have to go through with this, for her sake. If not Lord Baxton, then someone else. My father isn't wrong, he's been a perfect gentleman since he began trying to court me. Affable and a little proud perhaps, but most Lords are.
"I'll go talk to him" I finally say, I don't wait for an answer, the gleam of life brightening in my mothers' eyes is the only affirmation I need that I'm doing something right for a change.
--
My eyes snap open and water gushes out of my mouth in a fountain of disgusting salty fish.
Someones turning me to my side so I can cough up the rest of the water and replace it with air. I'm gasping and heaving for several minutes before I can begin breathing more evenly, my throat burns and my head pounds. Opening my eyes again, there's bright burning sunlight and blue cloudless skies before my eyes pinch closed again. Blinking more slowly I can adjust to the light better.
"Gave us a scare" Kip says as he pats my back and holds a bottle in front of my face. I recognize it as rum but I don't fancy burning my throat farther and I've not yet got the taste for the stuff.
"Water?" I choke out, pushing myself to sit up. It's only then that I notice the surface isn't hard like the deck, it's gritty between my fingers. Sand, that means we were run aground. Sitting up more quickly I look around and find The White Kings Revenge is on her side the main mast snapped in two and evidently the dead eyes weren't fastened tight enough as there are gaping holes in her side where the water pressure had forced it's way in.
"Lost th' water, and most our other supplies when she went down, lucky she run aground here. Find enough of the men and we may get her afloat again." Kip says and pressed the bottle into my hand "Drink" he insists so I take it and pour some of the stuff in. It stings but does help take away the bite of the salt.
"I thought I was dead for sure" I say as I give the rum back. Seems to be all we have so I didn't drink much. Kip doesn't object, corks it and sets it aside in the sand.
"Me too" Kip frowned "Old Bill dove in after ye but never came back up, his line snapped" Kip explained, his eyes somber as he looked out at the calmed sea. Neither one of us speaks for a moment. Bill was good to me and I know Kip liked him too "Suppose he got his wish" Kip said after a moment more. Then turning back to me, touched the back of his hand to my head.
"Ye're warm, you need rest" He says and pulls his hand away and rises to his feet, offering me his hand. Hesitating, I take it and get shakily to my feet. It's a good thing he's right there because my head spins and I nearly topple over again.
"Come on. Into th' shade wit' ye" Kip said and guides me to the palms hanging over the beach. The ship cant sail until she's fixed and without the men or supplies there's little chance of that happening. Kip and I can't do it on our own. We're marooned here until we find help or help finds us.
Kip and I spent three days on scouring the beaches, picking up whatever debris we can and gathering it up by the shelter we've constructed farther back in the jungle. We found some food supplies that were salvageable, including more rum, much to Kips delight. I am more excited for the hardtack. It's not great but it's food and so far all we've managed are some under-ripe fruits which are just about as appetizing as hardtack.
"Kip we aren't going to find em, we may as well get on to exploring, we need more fresh water and maybe we can find a town or something" I suggest, and not for the first time. After trying to walk around the entire island and not finding another end we decided it was a much bigger island that could have some civilization on it somewhere, probably on the other side of the jungle.
"I know...I know but..." Kip fumbles. I know he's upset about the loss of the crew, he feels he's let them down but he'd done the best he could. Neither one of us say anything though, instead, we silently gather what little we have and trek into the thick jungle, Kip leading the way.
After gathering what little supplies we've salvaged from the ship, we begin our trek through the tree's. I don't really know what to say to him, ever since I'd joined the crew, he's been more distant the last month or so.
"Kip" I venture to try regardless of having no words.
"You didn't want me here did you?" I ask the burning question I've had the last two months. I had been so insistent at the time, making a rash decision after probably drinking too much, we'd both had a lot to drink that night and the next morning I'd woken up the ship, underway already and my hair gone, dressed in some of Kips clothes. I'd thought the night had been a dream but I woke up to find it was all real. I was a woman, dressed as a man, on a pirate ship.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at me. I flush and focus on my bare feet, avoiding rocks as much as possible.
"You brought me aboard the ship and you act like I don't exist most the time" I say, I haven't had a chance to talk to him like this since we set sail. "You may as well have left me there to marry some Lord. At least there I'm wanted in some ways....And useful...I can give someone an heir.... that's all I'm good for I suppose" I feel tears coming, I hate that I'm so week. I'm not paying attention so nearly run into Kip, I stop when I see the toes of his boots under my eyes.
"Ali" he speaks softly, the way he had when I'd told him how unhappy I truly was back home. Like him, I'd made my situation sound much more glamorous than it was, it was easier to lie on paper.
Looking up I see Kip looking down at me, his eyes soft. I don't say anything.
"I told you in the tavern...Life on a ship is...well it's a whole different world, a delicate community. If I show anymore favoritism than I already have towards you, it could bring the entire system into chaos" He explains. "You just have to find your place on the ship and things will change..." he pauses, realizing there is no ship, no crew, he falls silent and his expression grows dark.
"Kip I'm...I'm sorry...I was...we were drunk...." I said softly but he's already turning away from me again and I stop trying to explain, just follow as he begins hacking at the vines with a new vigor.
As I followed, I found myself thinking of our childhood and the moment I had begun to love him.
The prince and his soon to be bride were coming to our humble island and, as part of the entertainment for the feast, the most talented child in the city would perform for the prince and princess. A competition was to be held and the winner would sing before the royal pair.....
My mother arranged for a voice instructor to teach me to sing and we fussed over my dress until it was just right.
The morning of the competition, I woke so ill I couldn't perform, I was bitter, particularly because my best friend, Kip, had won. I should have been happy for him but I wasn't. I was mad, and when he'd come to see how I was, I'd refused to see him. Still, with his meager allowance, he bought little presents and left them at the door.
I wouldn't admit it, but I eagerly waited whenever my mother brought me lunch, she'd bring me the gifts then. I pressed the flower in my favorite book and put the little wood pendant necklace around my neck and tucked it close to my heart. The rest I kept in my little chest where I kept all my favorite things.
Finally the day the prince and princess were coming had arrived. I was well again and wearing my finest dress. The parade was so spectacular, flowers of all kinds decorated the main street, tied anywhere it was possible, blue and silver satin ribbons draping in glimmering waterfalls adorned every building.
The chariot they rode in seemed to glide behind the six sleek black and white horses that pulled it, blue and silver ribbons braided into their mains and the chariot itself covered in draping deep blue silk.
My father being a Lord, was invited to the feast and so, bitterly, I was to watch the chosen children perform. Kip, had gone last, he'd worn his cleanest set of trousers and washed the only shirt he owned, probably had stitched the holes up himself since he hadn't a mother to do it for him.
I glared at him, he caught my eye, shifted and looked away from me before he lifted his head and he sang. It was soft at first but grew in strength as he got his confidence. It was a sad song of the sea, the room silenced so that only his voice was heard, rising and falling like the waters he sang of. Kip put every ounce of his emotion into the moment. I stared with the rest, only, his eyes had shifted back to mine and there locked for what seemed forever to me. It was like he sang only for me.
After it all, I sought him out in the crowd, he was on his way out but I caught his arm.
"I'm sorry" I said quietly, Kip only shrugged
"I understand" he smiled a little, he always understood.
"I understand now, why you were the one that they chose. You're special." I said hurriedly, wanting to let him know I understood too. "You're better than me"
"Nah, you would have won if you weren't sick" Kip answered
"I've got to go now, fathers waiting at the docs, I'm to go to sea with him. I've tried to tell you" Kip said quickly, he was late already.
"You'll write won't you?" I asked, he nodded in return. We'd known this day would come.
–
At about midday I started to wear down, even with Kip cutting a path, the ground is uneven and hard on my bare feet that are used to the smooth surfaces of a ship. Besides that, every bit of exposed skin is itching and splattered with mosquito guts.
Kip paused by a stream and stooped down scooping some water up in his hands splashes it over his face. He's just as much of a blood bank as me, I can tell by the lumps around his neck. As he brings another double scoop of water up to his chin, he tips forward, the cool water touching his lips as he sucks it up.
I follow his cue and kneel beside the stream, first washing my arms and hands, then my face and neck, the water is cool against my hot skin, it helps to sooth the itching, but only for an instant after the waters run off. I watch it drip back into the stream before scooping up water and tipping it to my mouth.
It's only half way through drinking that I feel his eyes watching me and I become keenly aware of the water catching on to my chin and dribbling down my neck. I try to ignore his gaze and just finish drinking.
" Rub mud on ye're skin, it will keep them blood suckers off an' sooth th' itchin'" Kip says, his voice dropped back to the more gentle man I prefer to Shivers, the quartermaster.
Looking away from me again he quietly rubs mud up his arms and around his neck, I do the same.
"That Lord Baxton is a right fool" Kip says, not looking at me as he speaks this time.
"How do you mean?" I ask, I'd told him the whole story.
"Any man be lucky to share ye're....uh" he stopped half way through but I get what he's saying and it makes me blush so I slap mud to my cheeks to hide it.
"I don't want just any man though" I say after a moment, focusing my eyes down as I speak, then look over at him
"And ye should have every right to choose ye're man, if you ever do" Kip answers and stands up again, he offers me his hand.
"Do I?" I ask, taking his hand and standing up. He doesn't release my hand and just looks down at me and I look up at him, our eyes locking, my heart skips, I feel like he's searching my soul. Then his arm slips around my waist, he leans down and our lips touch. Before I know what's happening, I shove back and step away from him, stunned when I realize what I, just did.
"I'm sorry" Kip said quickly and backed away a few steps "I thought you....I....." I've never heard him stumble like that, he's always so sure and confident when he speaks. Right at that instant all the facade is stripped away. I desperately want to say something, explain I was just startled or something, but it's too late. Quartermaster Shivers is back, stern faced and cold.
Turning away Kip picks up the cutlass he's been using like a machete and we begin again, in heavy silence.
Neither one of us speak again until it begins to get dark, by then the mud is strikebreaking my skin and rivals the mosquito's itching bites. I've rubbed as much of it off as I can but I long for the stream again so I can bath in it's cool water, cleanse my body and relax. No such wish is granted, instead, Kip leads me to a tree covered in thick vines. Wordlessly he begins to climb up as deftly as he does on the rigging's of the ship.
When I get up to where he disappeared he grabs my arms and hoists me up over the last couple of feet. The area is a tangle of branches that makes a nest where two people could fit in relative safety against inquisitive animals.
"We'll rest here tonight, we can't light a fire so we'll have to keep each other warm" His tone is once more the firm voice of the pirate quartermaster. An instant later, it melts away "I mean...if uh..that's ok" Showing the Kip I briefly saw by the stream, only more uncertain, his confident demeanor broken, probably because of how I'd reacted to his kiss that afternoon.
Smiling a little I nod, I don't want this to be any more awkward for him, I've never seen him like this before and I don't know how to react to it and don't want to damage him further. It's his self-assurance and strength that drew me to him and I may have fractured that part of him.
"Right...." he muttered and took off the makeshift bag that carries our meager supplies. I can see the doubt in his features, plain as my own lack of confidence
Whence we've adjusted I'm so close up against his side I can hear his heart pumping, it's quick, matching my own beat.
Adjusting the blanket we salvaged from the ship we settle down for the night, sharing half a hardtack and some water we replaced the rum for. The rum hadn't gone to waste and I could still taste the residue in the water.
Slowly Kip puts his arm around me, my head against his shoulder and my hand resting against his chest as I've nowhere better to put it. It's strangely comfortable, despite the distance that's grown between us. I don't want the silence to grow any thicker so I decide to say something, now, while he can't turn away and ignore me.
"Kip" I said softly, drawing his attention, a quiet 'hm' indicates he's heard. "About today...at the stream" I begin.
"Look I'm sorry Al, I shouldn't have assumed...I know I'm a pirate but I respect women none the less" Kip explained, though I already know that.
"I know, I know that, I do" I assure him quickly "I just....I was surprised...that's all. I'm not mad" I can feel my face is hot but the suns gone down and he couldn't possibly see that.
"you're not?" he asked, I can hear the surprise in his voice.
"So if I did it again you wouldn't..." he doesn't finish, his voice soft and cautiously hopeful.
"No" I answer, my voice just as quiet, I can feel his heart quickening along with mine but as he shifts, it slows. I feel his fingers tentatively tracing the line of my jaw from the point of my chin to the base of my ear as he tilts my head up. I oblige and look up, even in the dark I can see his eyes looking into mine and feel his warm breath brush my lips before we close our eyes and he kisses me so tenderly I feel tingles all over my body. I return the kiss, melting in to his embrace as he shifts so we're facing each other, not breaking contact with my lips
Only when I'm held against his chest does he pull back and smile, I smile back but close my eyes again as his hand brushes my cheek, tickles down my neck and slides over my shoulder.
He doesn't try for more, instead he kisses the top of my head as I lay it against his chest
"Goodnight my Ali" he whispered, holding me against him. Smiling at his words I close my eyes and settle in for the night. There's that unspoken change between us now, I don't know what it means yet but for the moment, I'm happy, comfortable and easily find sleep.
–
Lord Baxton stood on the porch, he'd been taking leave of our estate, no doubt because I'd insulted him. My mothers tried to teach me manners but sometimes I lose my temper, particularly when my mother is insinuating I marry someone who's my fathers age.
"Lord Baxton" I say quickly, realize I'm being rude and silence myself, waiting for him to acknowledge me. I've already done enough harm without offending the man further. He is my fathers friend.
Lord Baxton sighed and turned back towards me "Did you wish to insult me further Alison?" he asks in a tight voice. He's upset, I can't blame him.
"I'm sorry" I say, keeping my eyes turned down to show I mean it, even though I don't, not truly. Lord Baxton doesn't bite and turns to go with a 'hmm' and muttered "Good day Ms Larson"
"Wait" I say quickly, my hand catching his arm. He stops and I drop my hand to my side again.
"My mother tells me I'm the first to catch your eye, I'm...Well I'm flattered" I say, trying to compliment him. He smiles and turns towards me again.
"Yes" he says carefully, though he's smiling the tone sounds too controlled, like he's holding back a storm of his own.
"She would tell you that" Lord Baxton said and breathes out slow and measured, then smiles, my own smile falters. Something's gone worse and I don't know what.
"You actually thought that you were the first? You were the last." Lord Baxton says, his words are mocking but I don't fully understand their meaning yet. I can tell he intends to explain so I stay silent, only staring.
"My dear, my pretended interest in you was to entertain your mothers dying wishes. You are the last young woman I'd desire to spend more time with,He explained and smiled down at my shocked face.
"Good evening Ms. Larson" he bowed his head slightly and turns away again and strides away from me, no doubt a smile on that pudgy face of his.
–
"Al?" Kips gentle voice breaks me away from the dream I'd been having. "Ye're crying" he said and brushes the tears in question off my face.
"Just a dream" I answer and rub the back of my hands over my eyes. Kip doesn't ask for details. Both of us remain silent after that, just enjoying the bird song, a strange but beautiful morning concert. I can't hope to name all the birds the sounds belong to, I've never been to a jungle and know little of them.
Just as I think I might drift back to sleep I feel something slimy climbing up the bottom of my foot, It startles enough that I jerk and kick, sending a small yellow frog flying up and then plummeting down to the earth below. Kip starts laughing lightly "Come on, le's get movin'" he said and smiles at my blush, teasingly tapping the end of my nose with the knuckle of his first finger. He's smiling yet, his eyes aren't, they tell me something is wrong. I don't dare ask what, for fear of ruining what promises to be a good day otherwise.
"Alright, if I must" I answer and shift off of him, rolling myself over the side and reaching for the branch below with my toes.
As my feet find purchase on the branch below our nest pain shocks through my feet and I want to jerk them back up but I can't. I've got to climb down. Biting my cheeks and fighting back tears I look down and descent, careful how I place my feet, though it doesn't matter much, each step feels like I'm stepping on nails.
By the time I reach the ground, which isn't far, I've re-hydrated the cracking mud on my cheeks with tears and sweat, I wipe it away quickly but Kips already realized I'm in pain.
"Sit" he orders firmly, I'm already doing it anyway, sinking down on to the ground, not caring that it's spongy and wet. I'm already filthy and damp.
Only when Kip takes one of my feet in his big hands do I see that my feet have become the size shape and color of a plump eggplant. Cuts from walking bare foot through a jungle are angry, red and oozing cloudy pink liquid.
Kip doesn't say anything but his jaw is tight and his eyebrows drawn, I know the look of worry he passes for a confident stare. I've seen him use that look even as a child.
Calmly Kip pulls out our bottle of shared water and pours it over my feet one at a time. I try not to recoil but it stings. Kip paused when he heard me hiss through my teeth. "Sorry" he says softly and corks the bottle.
"I'll carry you back to th' beach, I can scavenge th' ship to see if anything of th' docs kit survived." Kip decides, we've already done that, but I don't remind him.
Carefully he pulls my arm over his shoulders and he scoops me up as easily as a sack of apples, though more gently. One arm behind my shoulders and the other under my knee's.
We haven't gotten more than two steps before my heart starts pounding in my chest like I've been running all morning. I feel my muscles clenching, first my feet tighten and it moves up my body. As it gets up to my chest I feel like my lungs are being squeezed like a lemon and my heart hammers all the harder as panic shows it ugly face.
I feel my throat swelling up next, I can't breathe like I've got a hempen harness around my neck. My breathing is coming ragged and forced.
I don't even realize Kips put me down until I feel the bile coming up. I can feel his strong arms around me, holding me up on my knees as I double forward and vomit on to the jungle floor, yellow slimy bile drips off my lips. Still panting, I feel the second wave coming already.
My restricted airway burns with stomach acid and whatever else my body is rejecting. I plead with my body to stop but a third hurl brings up dark purple vomit. That can't be good. How can things have gone so bad within ten minutes of waking up?
I breathe heavily but I think it's stopped, and I hope whatever poison or virus I caught has been expelled. Kip waits a few moments longer before helping me to lay down on soft ferns and spongy moss.
"Hang in ther' Al" he whispers softly as he presses the glass of the rum bottle to my lips and slowly tips water between my parted lips. The water soothes my stinging throat. The relief is only momentary as another wave of vomit accosts my system, I can't move but Kip turns me on to my side in time.
I can't breath, I can't move and for the second time in a week I know I'm dead only now I've more to lose, I've Kip now.
Opening my eyes again I try to say something, anything, I don't care what it is! But my eyes are looking through a keyhole and my voice won't respond and I can't rasp another breath.
"It's alrigh' " I hear him whisper gently into my ear, then it's all gone black, the pain is subsiding and I'm slipping away, away into nothing.
–
Only weeks later, my mother is gone. And the months after that are unbearable. My unbridled father is impossible to reason with. I explain how I want to leave our little island and go to school, I try to tell him I might meet a suitable man there. It doesn't work. He say's he needs me home one moment and tells me I'm to die an old maid if I don't quiet down and marry soon, I'm already old. It's all an impossible knot.
I'm tired of it all, I don't want to be trapped inside some stuffy house continuing a life that has no purpose for me. Can't he see that? Isn't there more? Some purpose besides rearing up the next generation? If there is, I can't see it. Only walls closing in.
After yet another argument with my father, I decide to go for a walk to cool off before I apologize again.
Only when I come to the harbor side village do I realize it's night, Drunken men stumble out of taverns, laughing and falling over each other. I dodge a pair of sailors singing off key, arms draped over one anthers shoulders and zigzagging down the road together.
"Ms. Ar' ye lost?" The voice makes me turn around and right in front of me is a handsome young man, about my age I'd guess. He seems familiar somehow, I can't place it until I see his eyes, I could never forget those deep emerald eyes.
"Kip?" I ask, blinking in shock, I look over him more closely now. He isn't wearing something I'd expect a quartermaster to wear. His shirt is loosely hanging off of him and torn down to his tanned strong chest. A thick belt around his hips holds a cutlass. My eyes trail back up to his unshaven face. He's not at all the boy I remembered and not what I imagined him to look like as an adult. He doesn't have the comfortable budge that I've seen a lot of the other officers have. He has the look of a working man.
I realize a moment later that he's been looking over me too and I blush. Men have looked at me before but somehow I feel more exposed standing in front of my childhood friend. I've spilled my soul to him through letters over the years and he's always been sympathetic and giving me advice. I've done the same for him.
"Ali?" he asks, equally as astonished. I smile in answer.
–
The vile taste of salt water gurgles out of my mouth and threatens to go back in until I roll to my side spitting it up. I don't feel the same tightness in my chest and I can see again. I didn't die? And Why am I spewing up sea water again?
There's sand under my hands but it's burning hot and the sun on my back is intense and dry, not like the wetness of the jungle.
"Gave us a scare" Kip says as he pats my back and rubs "Get it all ou' now" he goes on when I don't answer.
Blinking I look up at Kip "What...What happened?" I asked, confused by it all. Hadn't I just been dying in a muggy bug ridden jungle? And now, I look around, in a desert?
"Where am I?" I ask and turn back to look at Kip, he looks confused too but more as though what I'm saying doesn't make sense.
"You went overboard in th' storm..." he answers, uncertainty in his tone.
"Yes yes after that, the jungle and I got poisoned, a frog I think, I've heard of those killing sailors who wonder into the jungle when their..." I stop, seeing he's just staring, not comprehending.
"Come on, we should get out of the sun" Kip say's and helps me up to me feet as I look around more closely at my surroundings.
High mesa's in a wide horseshoe around the otherwise flat orange desert served as a dam against the sea, water spills over the top mesa's but dries before the waterfall reaches the ground beneath. Seagulls call but never fly overhead, only over the shores I can't see.
The baking sun has scorched whatever plant life might of graced the landscape, leaving only brittle twigs in bundles, easily tossed in the hot air.
Kip pulls me under the brittle remains of a once great tree. "Stay here" he orders me before he darts off, leaving small divots in the soft hot sand. It's only then that I realize the sand doesn't burn my feet at all, I look down, they aren't covered, bare and unmarked, no longer purple and swollen, not so much as a cut from our jungle venture.
"Kip?!" I look around and spot him dragging canvas from the ships tattered sails, her bones are scattered down the side of one of the mesa's, unrecognizable shambles.
"You've got to stay out of th' sun" Is all Kip says as he throw's the canvas up over the top of the tree's lower branches and together we tie the tattered edges to the fingers of thicker dry arms, creating a tent.
"Kip please, what's going on?" I plead for an answer this time, It has to be a dream, a terrible but pleasant one at times, like that night in the tree.
"Alison" he speaks my full name, firmly but not with anger "You just have to trust me alrigh'? I'm goin' to keep you safe this time" he says insistently.
"This time?" I ask, so he does remember the jungle after all. He doesn't answer but ducks out of the shelter.
"I be goin' for water, don't move from this spot" Kip speaks firmly, not looking at me. I know he's avoiding my questions.
"Christopher" I speak his full name with a frown as I step out into the sun with him, it stops him in his tracks.
"Al...please" he speaks more gently, the gentleness I'd seen in the jungle. "I can't lose ye again" He goes on, still not looking at me yet I know that soft expression is there.
"Kip, I'm scared, I don't know what's happening and I think you do know" I speak gently, hoping to coax him into answering me this way.
"I know you are Al" he speaks gently again and turns towards me, looking at me intensely "Trust that I'm goin' to take care o' ye" he says, reaching across the gap between us to brush my cheek tenderly with the tips of his fingers. "Let me save you, then I'll explain" he speaks so softly that I can't help but nod and agree without further questions.
Taking my shoulder he pulls me close in an embrace and kisses my hair before he pulls away and he's gone again.
Deciding to listen I retreat back into the shelter and seat myself in the sand and lean back against the old tree.
I sit there and wait for what I'm sure is hours but he's not come back and I'm getting anxious, very thirsty and hot even in the shade. It can't be any better in the sun so I'm more than a little worried about Kip. I resolve that I can't just sit here while he's out there probably dyeing.
I follow the divots in the sand, again marveling that it doesn't burn. I walk on and on until I don't know if I've been walking in circles and just following my own tracks. I can't see our canvas shelter any longer and I can't tell the time, the sun doesn't seem to move, always right above me at high noon. I'm sweating terribly, grimy salt and sand itches everywhere, my hair is sticking to the sides of my face, and down my neck. I'm sure I'm sun burned by now, my lips are cracked and my throats so dry. I don't even have saliva to swallow.
The orange desert is blurring in and out and my head slowly nods back and forth as I walk, my eyes growing heavy. Fatigue and heat exhaustion is nothing I've never experienced but this must be what it is. I tell myself this is just a dream and I can't really be feeling this miserable, it doesn't help at all. The fact is, I do feel like I'm being cooked in a frying pan, is this what an onion feels like in the frying pan?
I don't realize I'm falling until I feel the sand on my knee's, my shoulders slumping. I'm going to die out here and who knows what's happened to Kip. Maybe the buzzards area already feasting. Thinking they might be circling me too, I look up but there's only a vast expanse of polished sapphire, a few clouds are dusted across it's otherwise flawless surface. Not even they stir, there's no air at all, only stiffing heat that burns to breath.
I let my eyes close, head still raised to the scorching gold that's going to bring my demise for the third time.
All at once my hair is whipped back by a strong hot wind and I can hear the rush of it roaring in my ear so loud it shocks me enough to make my eyes open and my head drop back to look forward. The wind keeps up and I have to squint and bring my arm up to try and shield the dust from scratching my eyes.
Ahead of me is not the mesa I'd been walking towards, instead a wall, a wall of dirt and sand coming at me like the towering waves that threw The White Kings Revenge into this desert.
Shocked I don't move for an instant, then start to stand but stop. The sandstorm is coming at me so fast, I can't hope to outrun it. What's the point anyway? I'm going to die again and wake up someplace else and die again.
At that moment are cruel realization hits me. I'm dead already, I'm in the sailors version of Hell, Davy Jones Locker. I have to be! There's no other explanation for this! Teasing me with the affections of a man who's never shown interest in me before then killing me, again and again.
"No!" I shout to the on coming storm. Filled with a new strength I stand up, my feet firmly planted and my eyes narrowed and glaring as if I'm staring down Davy Jones himself, personified as my impending death by sand.
"Kill me again and again if you want! See if I care!" I challenge.
The sand and wind hits me so hard I'm thrown back on to the ground, sand ripping flesh off my muscles. I'm screaming as millions of tiny sand shards rip me apart and fill my mouth and lungs. This is worse than the frog, far worse! It's also faster, only seconds after the storm hits me, the worlds snapped into blackness like the candle has just been snuffed out.
–
The next time I wake up spewing up water, it's marooned on an island that's so small I can step across it in five strides. There's no plant life, no water, no food. I die of dehydration. Kip holds me in his arms, singing softly, unable to do anything to stop it from happening. I take comfort in knowing I'm with him, I'm still scared though when senses slip away.
The next time I die fighting alongside a crew of strangers, the cutlass through my stomach. I guess Davy Jones likes seeing me fail so miserably in a fight that he repeats that bit a few times. I'm proud to say I get better each time, with some help from Kip, teaching me tips and tricks. I stay alive longer each time. Just when I get excited about trying again and honing my skills with a blade, and thinking I might win, it changes.
The next world I wake up in is high in the mountains, freezing cold and snowing. I've never seen snow and decide right off that I don't like it. It's colder than anything I've ever experienced. I don't even attempt to find a way out of this one. I just sit there under the bows of a pine, heavy laden with layers of the frozen crystals. Kip sits beside me, looking tired, we're both tired.
"Kip..." I say softly
"I'm here" he answers just as softly, putting his arm around me.
"What's the point?" I lean against him, his warm body against mine is always welcome and familiar.
"What else can we do?" He answers with a question.
"Give in...Stop trying, then maybe he'll let us rest" I answer, referring to Davy Jones. I'd never believed the sailors stories before, but now I do.
"I just...I wish I'd gotten to know you before" I say and settle farther into his arms. I don't want to leave his side for an instant. If I'm going to die again and again, I'd prefer it to always be in his arms.
"We can't stop trying...I'd rather keep living moments with you than fade into nothing" Kip answers, kissing my head and curling his arms a little tighter around me, as if the closeness will stop me from dyeing again.
"You'd rather I keep suffering in horrible ways?" I ask, trying to make him see the mental pain I'm in. I don't fear death now, only dread the pain that comes before.
"No...No I don't want that" he answers and I can hear him straining and I realize the emotional trauma of watching me die over and over, must be horrible for him, yet, he's always been so strong, fighting to keep me safe, always determined that I'm going to live, encouraging me. I'd never realized how hard this is for him too.
"I'm sorry Kip I didn't.....I'm sorry" My voice falls into a whisper, ashamed I'm being so selfish.
He's been strong for me, maybe now I need to be strong for him. With a new resolve, I slip out from under his arm. "We aren't going to die this time" I say firmly, surprising him.
"But.." he starts, though stands and nods.
"What do we do?" he asks.
"Well....Our first worry is keeping warm, water is no issue. We can melt snow for that..." My mind reals over everything I've read in books. Since my father never let me out, I had to satisfy my lack of adventures by reading about other peoples accomplishments from other parts of the world that I'd never see.
"We need to build a shelter out of packed snow..." I finally say "Then find a food source" I smile, I can see hope again and I think Kip can too, I can see it in those eyes.
Together the two of us construct a little hallow beneath the snow, packing it tight so it won't collapse. Kip hauls in branches we use as support beams and more to dry out and use for fire wood to cook our food. Kips proven apt at making small traps for rabbits and other small animals. Within a few days, we've made a cozy little home, we have to share Kips boots though so only one of us can be outside at a time but that's alright.
It's been a week, longer than either of us has lasted. Exactly one week from when we woke beneath that tree, we're snuggled up together, Kips arms around me and my head against his shoulder.
"Kip" I say softly
"Yes Ali?"
"Are you happy?" I ask
"Immeasurably" he answers and smiles down at me.
"Me too" I say before I close my eyes to sleep. It's been a long day.
--
For the thirteenth time Sea water explodes out of my mouth leaving me coughing and heaving, I'm tired and don't care where I've woken up this time. Just let it be over. I didn't even die the last time, this isn't fair!
For several minutes, I don't even pay attention if anyone else is there. Kip probably is, but what does that matter anymore.
"Hey easy now" It is Kips voice. I push away his hand as he rubs my back.
"Just go away!" I bark at him and climb to my feet. The the still choppy sway of the boat doesn't make me stumble like it had when the storm began and the boards beneath my feet are more familiar than any cobble stone road back home.
When I look up I see Kip staring at me, I've never shouted at him before. Bill is staring too, his sun withered face and friendly pale blue eyes are a welcome sight and a new change to Davy Jones' antics.
He's never been in these, dreams I suppose they could be called. Kip is the only face that's been familiar, the rest were strangers. Maybe Bill's died too. I don't ask, like Kip, I don't want to know, I'd rather believe them alive and well.
"Ay! She got er sea-legs 'bout er now, guess old blue wanted to teach her a thin or two eh Kip?" Bill says and elbows the taller man in the ribs, bringing his attention off of me and to the old cook instead.
"About time too" Kip says and shrugs "See that she gets water and food in her with the rest" Kip ordered, his voice full of the confidence and authority I remember, not the tender gentle Kip I've gotten to know since I died.
"Don't concern yourself, Davy Jones is just foolin' with me again and I ain't having none of it" I say and grab hold of the rigging's and swing up and begin to climb, aware that crew-mates are gawking. They aren't strangers this time, the same crew I've been sailing with for months.
Bill looks at Kip who only smirks in response to Bills stunned gaze. "Everthin' is gonna be fine now" Kip says before he walks off and starts barking orders, getting the men into action cleaning debre from the ship's deck. I tune it out and climb up to the crows nest and stand watch. My throat is screaming at me for water but I ignore it. I will not give in to these tricks. I just won't. I stay up there all day, ignoring any voices that call up to me.
Finally night comes and eases the heat of the day. I'm sunburned, severely dehydrated and still obstinate. Kip doesn't talk to me until only the night watch is out. He climbed up into the crows nest beside me and sits with a flask of water and some bread and chicken from the galley "Drink, eat" he insists and shoves the items into my hands. It's clear I don't get a choice.
I decide to give in and take the water first, drinking almost all of it in one go, I didn't realize just how thirsty I was until that moment.
Kip sits silently beside me until I've finished eating too.
"What's goin' on with you Al?" Kip asks, watching me carefully.
"What do you mean what's going on?" I ask and look at him now.
" Ye're stubborn, I've always known that, but tis, tis is madness. Ye're goin' to kill yourself" he frowns.
"doesn't matter, I'm already dead" I answer and look down at my empty plate.
"Ye're not, Bill dove in after you 'n some 'o th other men pulled you back on deck. You were out for hours and I thought you were dead for sure. Couldn't get you to breath. But you aren't dead, Ye're here" Kip replies "Let's keep it tha' way eh?"
I think over what he's said, maybe I had died but maybe I'd come back for real this time. Things are normal, the whole crew is there and Kips not been his gentle sympathetic self at all.
"I'm guessin ye had a near death encounter with old Davy Jones" Kip goes on to guess when I say nothing. "I had that happen once, Just been made Quartermaster and went over just like you. I kept dyeing and waking up in different places, alone in some of the most hostile terrains where I'd meet my end in horrible ways...Then...Well it was Captain Davis who brought me back" Kip explained before he stood up and offered me a hand. I take it, staring up at him. Davis rescued him. So Kip saved me then? How was that possible? It's such an unreal possibility that I don't know how to process it. Yet, it has to be real, I just went through it all, just as he'd described his experience.
"It was horrible" I confess
"Hopefully not all of it was" Kip says and I catch a glimpse of him, in the eyes, the Kip from the locker.
"No...Just the parts where I died" I answer, a small smile slowly climbing my face. "The rest of it was nice, thanks" I say, watching him as he smiles a little too.
" Ye're welcome" he answers me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before climbing out of the crow's nest and down the rigging and away from me. I watch him, still smiling. There's no doubt in my mind that what we shared in the Locker was real and the connection we made there will last beyond death, literally.
"Ah child" I smile and close my eyes. "It was like I'd slipped, tripped, and fell into a pleasant dream." I say after a moment of contemplative thought. Jonas tilts his head and blinks. He doesn't need to say anything, I know why he's confused. Most don't think of dying as a pleasant experience.
"Bad things happened yes, but my time down there was when the relationship between your grandfather and I changed" I smile, always happy to share my story with the children, it's a way for me to re-live it all.....
–
"All hands hoay!" Shivers, the quartermaster, shouts down below deck. I know him as Kip but he'd asked me not to use it in front of the men, the affectionate nickname wasn't exactly one to strike fear. "Batten down th' hatches! Make sure them dead eyes be shut tight! 'tis shapin' up to be a bad un!"
Startled by the shouting and the sudden upheaval of sleeping and lounging bodies, I stand up too and look over at the old man I was sitting beside. He's corking his flask as he heaves out a sigh. Bill is easily the oldest sailor I've ever seen, and he looks it. His eyes are sagging and half his face droops so that the rum dribbles a bit down his chin, he wipes it away and licks his thin lips.
Greasy scraggly men rush about us, some stumbling over themselves having been dislodged from their hammock and dropped into a groggy wakefulness.
Most of them are instantly alert, they move with purpose, a mass of organized Chaos, everyone knows their job and the dangers of a storm, except me.
"What's he mean Bill?" I ask, old Bills been helping me learn the language used aboard the ship, the old salt has been at sea for the better part of forty years and intends to die out here when the time comes.
"Storms a commin', a bad un" he answers and starts walking off. He's stocky and nothing but muscle beneath withered tan skin.
"No I mean, What are dead eyes?" I clarify as I follow him. He's approaching sixty but I'm the one stumbling all over the place, the sea even more rough than normal. Even after months on the ship I haven't got my sea legs and the unfamiliar terms still confuse me. Try as I might, I'm beginning to think this life is not for me after all.
"Dead eyes cover th' port holes, keeps us from takin' on water, an worse case, blowin' a hole in er side" Old Bill explains.
"Shove aside land lubber!" One man says as he pushes past. As if I needed more proof of my shortcomings. Still, I shove back and give the best scowl I can muster, it's expected.
"Mind your own way scurvy harbor dog!" I blurt out the first insult I can come up with. I have to keep up some resemblance of toughness.
Close by I hear Bill bellowing at someone "Show a leg!" he kicks a man passed out on the floor beneath his hammock "Useless blaggard" he mutters and shakes his head as he moves on.
As we reach the steps leading up to the deck. The storms already rocking us more violently and I can hear the rain pelting the sails, each drop sounding like a stone threatening to tear them apart. Thunder can barely be distinguished between the sounds of rain, waves and shouting men. I much preferred it when the ship was becalmed.
I let more bodies jog pass, including Bill, who takes the steps two at a time. When I decide to attempt the assent, I grab any hand hold I can find. I stop when water crashes over the rails and waterfalls down around my feet, adding to the dread rising in me. If I can't handle myself well when I get up there, I could be dumped off into the sea and be lost to it. I freeze, one foot on the first step. I could go up there and risk death or stay down here and ensure being left at the next port, if I'm lucky, more likely, fish bait though.
"Come on!" Bill shouts down impatiently.
Prompted by Bill, I make a decision, I move again, taking another step up instead of back, my heart leaping into my throat.
My legs feel like a couple of wobbly noodles, that's about the amount of control I've gained over them, only now they are wet noodles. It takes every bit of focus I've got to get them working right as I go up, slipping and sliding from side to side. The only thing keeping me from falling are the handholds I've found. I heave up the last couple of steps, using mostly my arms rather than my useless noodles.
Just as I reach the top, the ship tilts violently towards the port side. With nothing to hold, I stumble, slip on the slick deck, fall and slide on my backside. I try to grab something but it's useless until I crash into the base of the main mast. Grunting I wait until the ship rocks back with a slap, then grab on to a dangling rope and haul myself to my feet, ignoring the growing pain in my ribs, I've probably bruised them.
"Make fast swabbie!" Someone orders and throws a bundle of coiled ropes into my hands. I've been taught the knots, it's the one thing I can do well, so I quickly go to work tying the ropes to the jackline someone has already stretched from the bow to the stern on both the port and starboard side. Lives depend on me so I work as quick as I can, hanging the loose coils over an unused belay pin so I can work with one at a time.
The salt air blasts against my face in angry bursts and my feet slide on the slick deck I have to hang on to the jackline as I move, tie on a rope that a man grabs as soon as it's tied, and puts it around himself. I'm surprised I'm not tumbling all over the place like some loose cannon ball. I can be proud of that.
I had just grabbed hold of my own line and had it tied to the belay pin when I hear men shouting over the storm "Reef Sails!" beginning in the captains voice and repeated over the roaring winds by the quartermaster. After that I can't hear it. Men are already obeying the command, swinging up on to the rigging to furl the sails, leaving about a foot of stretched canvas to catch the wind and give the helmsman more control.
"Alison!" I hear not a command but my name shouted over the noise. It's Shivers, the quartermaster again. He doesn't often address me directly and never by my full name. We'd managed to keep my identity a secret thus far. Not even the ship cat could counter the bad luck a woman at sea.
I turn in time to see the horrified look cross Kips face. By the time I've realized my mistake, water is crashing down over my head and before I know whats happening my feet are off the deck and I'm plunging into the tempestuous sea's. My hands flail out searching for something but there's nothing but water, my securing lines been swept away before I could tie it around myself.
As I'm swallowed by the rampaging ocean I feel like I'm being churned in a mixer ,I don't know what way is up anymore. I open my eyes but the harsh salty water bites so hard I clamp them shut again and decide to focus on not giving up what little air I managed to keep in my lungs. I'm going to need it.
Desperate I pump my legs and swim in the direction I hope is up but I'm forced back and again flipped. I don't have any control of my limbs as I'm barreled deeper into the sea. My head begins to feel heavy and my chest grows tight. I'm going to die, I'm certain of it now. What little air I had is used up or knocked out of me by the strength of the seas punches.
I stop struggling, letting my arms and legs go limp as I'm tossed yet again, there's no point in fighting her, she's angry and too strong for me. I'm not an old salt like Bill, I've no idea what I'm doing. I remember Bill telling me "Don't fight th' sea, roll wit' her, she's lived longer 'n if ye treat her right, she'll take care o' ye"
I'm vaguely aware that I'm colliding with something but it's no use, I'm taking in too much water, the airs gone and I know I'm drowning, just as well, I'm not much of a pirate anyway, Kips always saying so. Taking Bills advice, I roll with her, let her claim me as an offering to spare the crew.
–
"I know you'll come around eventually. I'm only doing what's best for you." My father says in a raised voice, it's not convincing when he says it like that. I don't look at him, I can't, if I do I'll scream at him again. We've had this argument before. Deep down I know he is trying, but, I know he wishes he had a son and not a stubborn daughter, I wish it too sometimes, just to stop the fighting.
"Sweetheart just listen, you're getting on in years and Lord Baxton is a perfectly respectable match and he's been nothing but charming. He told me himself just before dinner that no other woman has caught his eye like you have" My mother offers in a more gentle and inviting tone, I almost want to believe it. Her I can look at, so I do.
My mother's been ill for months and she's become so frail. Looking at her I can't help but feel the guilt encroaching like storm clouds in summer. I know her one and only dream she has left is to see me married. Who am I to deny her last desire in life?
Letting out a sigh I unfold my arms and let them fall. Nobody can break through my wall like she can. She's never done me wrong, only loved me. As I look at her, I realize that I have to go through with this, for her sake. If not Lord Baxton, then someone else. My father isn't wrong, he's been a perfect gentleman since he began trying to court me. Affable and a little proud perhaps, but most Lords are.
"I'll go talk to him" I finally say, I don't wait for an answer, the gleam of life brightening in my mothers' eyes is the only affirmation I need that I'm doing something right for a change.
--
My eyes snap open and water gushes out of my mouth in a fountain of disgusting salty fish.
Someones turning me to my side so I can cough up the rest of the water and replace it with air. I'm gasping and heaving for several minutes before I can begin breathing more evenly, my throat burns and my head pounds. Opening my eyes again, there's bright burning sunlight and blue cloudless skies before my eyes pinch closed again. Blinking more slowly I can adjust to the light better.
"Gave us a scare" Kip says as he pats my back and holds a bottle in front of my face. I recognize it as rum but I don't fancy burning my throat farther and I've not yet got the taste for the stuff.
"Water?" I choke out, pushing myself to sit up. It's only then that I notice the surface isn't hard like the deck, it's gritty between my fingers. Sand, that means we were run aground. Sitting up more quickly I look around and find The White Kings Revenge is on her side the main mast snapped in two and evidently the dead eyes weren't fastened tight enough as there are gaping holes in her side where the water pressure had forced it's way in.
"Lost th' water, and most our other supplies when she went down, lucky she run aground here. Find enough of the men and we may get her afloat again." Kip says and pressed the bottle into my hand "Drink" he insists so I take it and pour some of the stuff in. It stings but does help take away the bite of the salt.
"I thought I was dead for sure" I say as I give the rum back. Seems to be all we have so I didn't drink much. Kip doesn't object, corks it and sets it aside in the sand.
"Me too" Kip frowned "Old Bill dove in after ye but never came back up, his line snapped" Kip explained, his eyes somber as he looked out at the calmed sea. Neither one of us speaks for a moment. Bill was good to me and I know Kip liked him too "Suppose he got his wish" Kip said after a moment more. Then turning back to me, touched the back of his hand to my head.
"Ye're warm, you need rest" He says and pulls his hand away and rises to his feet, offering me his hand. Hesitating, I take it and get shakily to my feet. It's a good thing he's right there because my head spins and I nearly topple over again.
"Come on. Into th' shade wit' ye" Kip said and guides me to the palms hanging over the beach. The ship cant sail until she's fixed and without the men or supplies there's little chance of that happening. Kip and I can't do it on our own. We're marooned here until we find help or help finds us.
Kip and I spent three days on scouring the beaches, picking up whatever debris we can and gathering it up by the shelter we've constructed farther back in the jungle. We found some food supplies that were salvageable, including more rum, much to Kips delight. I am more excited for the hardtack. It's not great but it's food and so far all we've managed are some under-ripe fruits which are just about as appetizing as hardtack.
"Kip we aren't going to find em, we may as well get on to exploring, we need more fresh water and maybe we can find a town or something" I suggest, and not for the first time. After trying to walk around the entire island and not finding another end we decided it was a much bigger island that could have some civilization on it somewhere, probably on the other side of the jungle.
"I know...I know but..." Kip fumbles. I know he's upset about the loss of the crew, he feels he's let them down but he'd done the best he could. Neither one of us say anything though, instead, we silently gather what little we have and trek into the thick jungle, Kip leading the way.
After gathering what little supplies we've salvaged from the ship, we begin our trek through the tree's. I don't really know what to say to him, ever since I'd joined the crew, he's been more distant the last month or so.
"Kip" I venture to try regardless of having no words.
"You didn't want me here did you?" I ask the burning question I've had the last two months. I had been so insistent at the time, making a rash decision after probably drinking too much, we'd both had a lot to drink that night and the next morning I'd woken up the ship, underway already and my hair gone, dressed in some of Kips clothes. I'd thought the night had been a dream but I woke up to find it was all real. I was a woman, dressed as a man, on a pirate ship.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at me. I flush and focus on my bare feet, avoiding rocks as much as possible.
"You brought me aboard the ship and you act like I don't exist most the time" I say, I haven't had a chance to talk to him like this since we set sail. "You may as well have left me there to marry some Lord. At least there I'm wanted in some ways....And useful...I can give someone an heir.... that's all I'm good for I suppose" I feel tears coming, I hate that I'm so week. I'm not paying attention so nearly run into Kip, I stop when I see the toes of his boots under my eyes.
"Ali" he speaks softly, the way he had when I'd told him how unhappy I truly was back home. Like him, I'd made my situation sound much more glamorous than it was, it was easier to lie on paper.
Looking up I see Kip looking down at me, his eyes soft. I don't say anything.
"I told you in the tavern...Life on a ship is...well it's a whole different world, a delicate community. If I show anymore favoritism than I already have towards you, it could bring the entire system into chaos" He explains. "You just have to find your place on the ship and things will change..." he pauses, realizing there is no ship, no crew, he falls silent and his expression grows dark.
"Kip I'm...I'm sorry...I was...we were drunk...." I said softly but he's already turning away from me again and I stop trying to explain, just follow as he begins hacking at the vines with a new vigor.
As I followed, I found myself thinking of our childhood and the moment I had begun to love him.
The prince and his soon to be bride were coming to our humble island and, as part of the entertainment for the feast, the most talented child in the city would perform for the prince and princess. A competition was to be held and the winner would sing before the royal pair.....
My mother arranged for a voice instructor to teach me to sing and we fussed over my dress until it was just right.
The morning of the competition, I woke so ill I couldn't perform, I was bitter, particularly because my best friend, Kip, had won. I should have been happy for him but I wasn't. I was mad, and when he'd come to see how I was, I'd refused to see him. Still, with his meager allowance, he bought little presents and left them at the door.
I wouldn't admit it, but I eagerly waited whenever my mother brought me lunch, she'd bring me the gifts then. I pressed the flower in my favorite book and put the little wood pendant necklace around my neck and tucked it close to my heart. The rest I kept in my little chest where I kept all my favorite things.
Finally the day the prince and princess were coming had arrived. I was well again and wearing my finest dress. The parade was so spectacular, flowers of all kinds decorated the main street, tied anywhere it was possible, blue and silver satin ribbons draping in glimmering waterfalls adorned every building.
The chariot they rode in seemed to glide behind the six sleek black and white horses that pulled it, blue and silver ribbons braided into their mains and the chariot itself covered in draping deep blue silk.
My father being a Lord, was invited to the feast and so, bitterly, I was to watch the chosen children perform. Kip, had gone last, he'd worn his cleanest set of trousers and washed the only shirt he owned, probably had stitched the holes up himself since he hadn't a mother to do it for him.
I glared at him, he caught my eye, shifted and looked away from me before he lifted his head and he sang. It was soft at first but grew in strength as he got his confidence. It was a sad song of the sea, the room silenced so that only his voice was heard, rising and falling like the waters he sang of. Kip put every ounce of his emotion into the moment. I stared with the rest, only, his eyes had shifted back to mine and there locked for what seemed forever to me. It was like he sang only for me.
After it all, I sought him out in the crowd, he was on his way out but I caught his arm.
"I'm sorry" I said quietly, Kip only shrugged
"I understand" he smiled a little, he always understood.
"I understand now, why you were the one that they chose. You're special." I said hurriedly, wanting to let him know I understood too. "You're better than me"
"Nah, you would have won if you weren't sick" Kip answered
"I've got to go now, fathers waiting at the docs, I'm to go to sea with him. I've tried to tell you" Kip said quickly, he was late already.
"You'll write won't you?" I asked, he nodded in return. We'd known this day would come.
–
At about midday I started to wear down, even with Kip cutting a path, the ground is uneven and hard on my bare feet that are used to the smooth surfaces of a ship. Besides that, every bit of exposed skin is itching and splattered with mosquito guts.
Kip paused by a stream and stooped down scooping some water up in his hands splashes it over his face. He's just as much of a blood bank as me, I can tell by the lumps around his neck. As he brings another double scoop of water up to his chin, he tips forward, the cool water touching his lips as he sucks it up.
I follow his cue and kneel beside the stream, first washing my arms and hands, then my face and neck, the water is cool against my hot skin, it helps to sooth the itching, but only for an instant after the waters run off. I watch it drip back into the stream before scooping up water and tipping it to my mouth.
It's only half way through drinking that I feel his eyes watching me and I become keenly aware of the water catching on to my chin and dribbling down my neck. I try to ignore his gaze and just finish drinking.
" Rub mud on ye're skin, it will keep them blood suckers off an' sooth th' itchin'" Kip says, his voice dropped back to the more gentle man I prefer to Shivers, the quartermaster.
Looking away from me again he quietly rubs mud up his arms and around his neck, I do the same.
"That Lord Baxton is a right fool" Kip says, not looking at me as he speaks this time.
"How do you mean?" I ask, I'd told him the whole story.
"Any man be lucky to share ye're....uh" he stopped half way through but I get what he's saying and it makes me blush so I slap mud to my cheeks to hide it.
"I don't want just any man though" I say after a moment, focusing my eyes down as I speak, then look over at him
"And ye should have every right to choose ye're man, if you ever do" Kip answers and stands up again, he offers me his hand.
"Do I?" I ask, taking his hand and standing up. He doesn't release my hand and just looks down at me and I look up at him, our eyes locking, my heart skips, I feel like he's searching my soul. Then his arm slips around my waist, he leans down and our lips touch. Before I know what's happening, I shove back and step away from him, stunned when I realize what I, just did.
"I'm sorry" Kip said quickly and backed away a few steps "I thought you....I....." I've never heard him stumble like that, he's always so sure and confident when he speaks. Right at that instant all the facade is stripped away. I desperately want to say something, explain I was just startled or something, but it's too late. Quartermaster Shivers is back, stern faced and cold.
Turning away Kip picks up the cutlass he's been using like a machete and we begin again, in heavy silence.
Neither one of us speak again until it begins to get dark, by then the mud is strikebreaking my skin and rivals the mosquito's itching bites. I've rubbed as much of it off as I can but I long for the stream again so I can bath in it's cool water, cleanse my body and relax. No such wish is granted, instead, Kip leads me to a tree covered in thick vines. Wordlessly he begins to climb up as deftly as he does on the rigging's of the ship.
When I get up to where he disappeared he grabs my arms and hoists me up over the last couple of feet. The area is a tangle of branches that makes a nest where two people could fit in relative safety against inquisitive animals.
"We'll rest here tonight, we can't light a fire so we'll have to keep each other warm" His tone is once more the firm voice of the pirate quartermaster. An instant later, it melts away "I mean...if uh..that's ok" Showing the Kip I briefly saw by the stream, only more uncertain, his confident demeanor broken, probably because of how I'd reacted to his kiss that afternoon.
Smiling a little I nod, I don't want this to be any more awkward for him, I've never seen him like this before and I don't know how to react to it and don't want to damage him further. It's his self-assurance and strength that drew me to him and I may have fractured that part of him.
"Right...." he muttered and took off the makeshift bag that carries our meager supplies. I can see the doubt in his features, plain as my own lack of confidence
Whence we've adjusted I'm so close up against his side I can hear his heart pumping, it's quick, matching my own beat.
Adjusting the blanket we salvaged from the ship we settle down for the night, sharing half a hardtack and some water we replaced the rum for. The rum hadn't gone to waste and I could still taste the residue in the water.
Slowly Kip puts his arm around me, my head against his shoulder and my hand resting against his chest as I've nowhere better to put it. It's strangely comfortable, despite the distance that's grown between us. I don't want the silence to grow any thicker so I decide to say something, now, while he can't turn away and ignore me.
"Kip" I said softly, drawing his attention, a quiet 'hm' indicates he's heard. "About today...at the stream" I begin.
"Look I'm sorry Al, I shouldn't have assumed...I know I'm a pirate but I respect women none the less" Kip explained, though I already know that.
"I know, I know that, I do" I assure him quickly "I just....I was surprised...that's all. I'm not mad" I can feel my face is hot but the suns gone down and he couldn't possibly see that.
"you're not?" he asked, I can hear the surprise in his voice.
"So if I did it again you wouldn't..." he doesn't finish, his voice soft and cautiously hopeful.
"No" I answer, my voice just as quiet, I can feel his heart quickening along with mine but as he shifts, it slows. I feel his fingers tentatively tracing the line of my jaw from the point of my chin to the base of my ear as he tilts my head up. I oblige and look up, even in the dark I can see his eyes looking into mine and feel his warm breath brush my lips before we close our eyes and he kisses me so tenderly I feel tingles all over my body. I return the kiss, melting in to his embrace as he shifts so we're facing each other, not breaking contact with my lips
Only when I'm held against his chest does he pull back and smile, I smile back but close my eyes again as his hand brushes my cheek, tickles down my neck and slides over my shoulder.
He doesn't try for more, instead he kisses the top of my head as I lay it against his chest
"Goodnight my Ali" he whispered, holding me against him. Smiling at his words I close my eyes and settle in for the night. There's that unspoken change between us now, I don't know what it means yet but for the moment, I'm happy, comfortable and easily find sleep.
–
Lord Baxton stood on the porch, he'd been taking leave of our estate, no doubt because I'd insulted him. My mothers tried to teach me manners but sometimes I lose my temper, particularly when my mother is insinuating I marry someone who's my fathers age.
"Lord Baxton" I say quickly, realize I'm being rude and silence myself, waiting for him to acknowledge me. I've already done enough harm without offending the man further. He is my fathers friend.
Lord Baxton sighed and turned back towards me "Did you wish to insult me further Alison?" he asks in a tight voice. He's upset, I can't blame him.
"I'm sorry" I say, keeping my eyes turned down to show I mean it, even though I don't, not truly. Lord Baxton doesn't bite and turns to go with a 'hmm' and muttered "Good day Ms Larson"
"Wait" I say quickly, my hand catching his arm. He stops and I drop my hand to my side again.
"My mother tells me I'm the first to catch your eye, I'm...Well I'm flattered" I say, trying to compliment him. He smiles and turns towards me again.
"Yes" he says carefully, though he's smiling the tone sounds too controlled, like he's holding back a storm of his own.
"She would tell you that" Lord Baxton said and breathes out slow and measured, then smiles, my own smile falters. Something's gone worse and I don't know what.
"You actually thought that you were the first? You were the last." Lord Baxton says, his words are mocking but I don't fully understand their meaning yet. I can tell he intends to explain so I stay silent, only staring.
"My dear, my pretended interest in you was to entertain your mothers dying wishes. You are the last young woman I'd desire to spend more time with,He explained and smiled down at my shocked face.
"Good evening Ms. Larson" he bowed his head slightly and turns away again and strides away from me, no doubt a smile on that pudgy face of his.
–
"Al?" Kips gentle voice breaks me away from the dream I'd been having. "Ye're crying" he said and brushes the tears in question off my face.
"Just a dream" I answer and rub the back of my hands over my eyes. Kip doesn't ask for details. Both of us remain silent after that, just enjoying the bird song, a strange but beautiful morning concert. I can't hope to name all the birds the sounds belong to, I've never been to a jungle and know little of them.
Just as I think I might drift back to sleep I feel something slimy climbing up the bottom of my foot, It startles enough that I jerk and kick, sending a small yellow frog flying up and then plummeting down to the earth below. Kip starts laughing lightly "Come on, le's get movin'" he said and smiles at my blush, teasingly tapping the end of my nose with the knuckle of his first finger. He's smiling yet, his eyes aren't, they tell me something is wrong. I don't dare ask what, for fear of ruining what promises to be a good day otherwise.
"Alright, if I must" I answer and shift off of him, rolling myself over the side and reaching for the branch below with my toes.
As my feet find purchase on the branch below our nest pain shocks through my feet and I want to jerk them back up but I can't. I've got to climb down. Biting my cheeks and fighting back tears I look down and descent, careful how I place my feet, though it doesn't matter much, each step feels like I'm stepping on nails.
By the time I reach the ground, which isn't far, I've re-hydrated the cracking mud on my cheeks with tears and sweat, I wipe it away quickly but Kips already realized I'm in pain.
"Sit" he orders firmly, I'm already doing it anyway, sinking down on to the ground, not caring that it's spongy and wet. I'm already filthy and damp.
Only when Kip takes one of my feet in his big hands do I see that my feet have become the size shape and color of a plump eggplant. Cuts from walking bare foot through a jungle are angry, red and oozing cloudy pink liquid.
Kip doesn't say anything but his jaw is tight and his eyebrows drawn, I know the look of worry he passes for a confident stare. I've seen him use that look even as a child.
Calmly Kip pulls out our bottle of shared water and pours it over my feet one at a time. I try not to recoil but it stings. Kip paused when he heard me hiss through my teeth. "Sorry" he says softly and corks the bottle.
"I'll carry you back to th' beach, I can scavenge th' ship to see if anything of th' docs kit survived." Kip decides, we've already done that, but I don't remind him.
Carefully he pulls my arm over his shoulders and he scoops me up as easily as a sack of apples, though more gently. One arm behind my shoulders and the other under my knee's.
We haven't gotten more than two steps before my heart starts pounding in my chest like I've been running all morning. I feel my muscles clenching, first my feet tighten and it moves up my body. As it gets up to my chest I feel like my lungs are being squeezed like a lemon and my heart hammers all the harder as panic shows it ugly face.
I feel my throat swelling up next, I can't breathe like I've got a hempen harness around my neck. My breathing is coming ragged and forced.
I don't even realize Kips put me down until I feel the bile coming up. I can feel his strong arms around me, holding me up on my knees as I double forward and vomit on to the jungle floor, yellow slimy bile drips off my lips. Still panting, I feel the second wave coming already.
My restricted airway burns with stomach acid and whatever else my body is rejecting. I plead with my body to stop but a third hurl brings up dark purple vomit. That can't be good. How can things have gone so bad within ten minutes of waking up?
I breathe heavily but I think it's stopped, and I hope whatever poison or virus I caught has been expelled. Kip waits a few moments longer before helping me to lay down on soft ferns and spongy moss.
"Hang in ther' Al" he whispers softly as he presses the glass of the rum bottle to my lips and slowly tips water between my parted lips. The water soothes my stinging throat. The relief is only momentary as another wave of vomit accosts my system, I can't move but Kip turns me on to my side in time.
I can't breath, I can't move and for the second time in a week I know I'm dead only now I've more to lose, I've Kip now.
Opening my eyes again I try to say something, anything, I don't care what it is! But my eyes are looking through a keyhole and my voice won't respond and I can't rasp another breath.
"It's alrigh' " I hear him whisper gently into my ear, then it's all gone black, the pain is subsiding and I'm slipping away, away into nothing.
–
Only weeks later, my mother is gone. And the months after that are unbearable. My unbridled father is impossible to reason with. I explain how I want to leave our little island and go to school, I try to tell him I might meet a suitable man there. It doesn't work. He say's he needs me home one moment and tells me I'm to die an old maid if I don't quiet down and marry soon, I'm already old. It's all an impossible knot.
I'm tired of it all, I don't want to be trapped inside some stuffy house continuing a life that has no purpose for me. Can't he see that? Isn't there more? Some purpose besides rearing up the next generation? If there is, I can't see it. Only walls closing in.
After yet another argument with my father, I decide to go for a walk to cool off before I apologize again.
Only when I come to the harbor side village do I realize it's night, Drunken men stumble out of taverns, laughing and falling over each other. I dodge a pair of sailors singing off key, arms draped over one anthers shoulders and zigzagging down the road together.
"Ms. Ar' ye lost?" The voice makes me turn around and right in front of me is a handsome young man, about my age I'd guess. He seems familiar somehow, I can't place it until I see his eyes, I could never forget those deep emerald eyes.
"Kip?" I ask, blinking in shock, I look over him more closely now. He isn't wearing something I'd expect a quartermaster to wear. His shirt is loosely hanging off of him and torn down to his tanned strong chest. A thick belt around his hips holds a cutlass. My eyes trail back up to his unshaven face. He's not at all the boy I remembered and not what I imagined him to look like as an adult. He doesn't have the comfortable budge that I've seen a lot of the other officers have. He has the look of a working man.
I realize a moment later that he's been looking over me too and I blush. Men have looked at me before but somehow I feel more exposed standing in front of my childhood friend. I've spilled my soul to him through letters over the years and he's always been sympathetic and giving me advice. I've done the same for him.
"Ali?" he asks, equally as astonished. I smile in answer.
–
The vile taste of salt water gurgles out of my mouth and threatens to go back in until I roll to my side spitting it up. I don't feel the same tightness in my chest and I can see again. I didn't die? And Why am I spewing up sea water again?
There's sand under my hands but it's burning hot and the sun on my back is intense and dry, not like the wetness of the jungle.
"Gave us a scare" Kip says as he pats my back and rubs "Get it all ou' now" he goes on when I don't answer.
Blinking I look up at Kip "What...What happened?" I asked, confused by it all. Hadn't I just been dying in a muggy bug ridden jungle? And now, I look around, in a desert?
"Where am I?" I ask and turn back to look at Kip, he looks confused too but more as though what I'm saying doesn't make sense.
"You went overboard in th' storm..." he answers, uncertainty in his tone.
"Yes yes after that, the jungle and I got poisoned, a frog I think, I've heard of those killing sailors who wonder into the jungle when their..." I stop, seeing he's just staring, not comprehending.
"Come on, we should get out of the sun" Kip say's and helps me up to me feet as I look around more closely at my surroundings.
High mesa's in a wide horseshoe around the otherwise flat orange desert served as a dam against the sea, water spills over the top mesa's but dries before the waterfall reaches the ground beneath. Seagulls call but never fly overhead, only over the shores I can't see.
The baking sun has scorched whatever plant life might of graced the landscape, leaving only brittle twigs in bundles, easily tossed in the hot air.
Kip pulls me under the brittle remains of a once great tree. "Stay here" he orders me before he darts off, leaving small divots in the soft hot sand. It's only then that I realize the sand doesn't burn my feet at all, I look down, they aren't covered, bare and unmarked, no longer purple and swollen, not so much as a cut from our jungle venture.
"Kip?!" I look around and spot him dragging canvas from the ships tattered sails, her bones are scattered down the side of one of the mesa's, unrecognizable shambles.
"You've got to stay out of th' sun" Is all Kip says as he throw's the canvas up over the top of the tree's lower branches and together we tie the tattered edges to the fingers of thicker dry arms, creating a tent.
"Kip please, what's going on?" I plead for an answer this time, It has to be a dream, a terrible but pleasant one at times, like that night in the tree.
"Alison" he speaks my full name, firmly but not with anger "You just have to trust me alrigh'? I'm goin' to keep you safe this time" he says insistently.
"This time?" I ask, so he does remember the jungle after all. He doesn't answer but ducks out of the shelter.
"I be goin' for water, don't move from this spot" Kip speaks firmly, not looking at me. I know he's avoiding my questions.
"Christopher" I speak his full name with a frown as I step out into the sun with him, it stops him in his tracks.
"Al...please" he speaks more gently, the gentleness I'd seen in the jungle. "I can't lose ye again" He goes on, still not looking at me yet I know that soft expression is there.
"Kip, I'm scared, I don't know what's happening and I think you do know" I speak gently, hoping to coax him into answering me this way.
"I know you are Al" he speaks gently again and turns towards me, looking at me intensely "Trust that I'm goin' to take care o' ye" he says, reaching across the gap between us to brush my cheek tenderly with the tips of his fingers. "Let me save you, then I'll explain" he speaks so softly that I can't help but nod and agree without further questions.
Taking my shoulder he pulls me close in an embrace and kisses my hair before he pulls away and he's gone again.
Deciding to listen I retreat back into the shelter and seat myself in the sand and lean back against the old tree.
I sit there and wait for what I'm sure is hours but he's not come back and I'm getting anxious, very thirsty and hot even in the shade. It can't be any better in the sun so I'm more than a little worried about Kip. I resolve that I can't just sit here while he's out there probably dyeing.
I follow the divots in the sand, again marveling that it doesn't burn. I walk on and on until I don't know if I've been walking in circles and just following my own tracks. I can't see our canvas shelter any longer and I can't tell the time, the sun doesn't seem to move, always right above me at high noon. I'm sweating terribly, grimy salt and sand itches everywhere, my hair is sticking to the sides of my face, and down my neck. I'm sure I'm sun burned by now, my lips are cracked and my throats so dry. I don't even have saliva to swallow.
The orange desert is blurring in and out and my head slowly nods back and forth as I walk, my eyes growing heavy. Fatigue and heat exhaustion is nothing I've never experienced but this must be what it is. I tell myself this is just a dream and I can't really be feeling this miserable, it doesn't help at all. The fact is, I do feel like I'm being cooked in a frying pan, is this what an onion feels like in the frying pan?
I don't realize I'm falling until I feel the sand on my knee's, my shoulders slumping. I'm going to die out here and who knows what's happened to Kip. Maybe the buzzards area already feasting. Thinking they might be circling me too, I look up but there's only a vast expanse of polished sapphire, a few clouds are dusted across it's otherwise flawless surface. Not even they stir, there's no air at all, only stiffing heat that burns to breath.
I let my eyes close, head still raised to the scorching gold that's going to bring my demise for the third time.
All at once my hair is whipped back by a strong hot wind and I can hear the rush of it roaring in my ear so loud it shocks me enough to make my eyes open and my head drop back to look forward. The wind keeps up and I have to squint and bring my arm up to try and shield the dust from scratching my eyes.
Ahead of me is not the mesa I'd been walking towards, instead a wall, a wall of dirt and sand coming at me like the towering waves that threw The White Kings Revenge into this desert.
Shocked I don't move for an instant, then start to stand but stop. The sandstorm is coming at me so fast, I can't hope to outrun it. What's the point anyway? I'm going to die again and wake up someplace else and die again.
At that moment are cruel realization hits me. I'm dead already, I'm in the sailors version of Hell, Davy Jones Locker. I have to be! There's no other explanation for this! Teasing me with the affections of a man who's never shown interest in me before then killing me, again and again.
"No!" I shout to the on coming storm. Filled with a new strength I stand up, my feet firmly planted and my eyes narrowed and glaring as if I'm staring down Davy Jones himself, personified as my impending death by sand.
"Kill me again and again if you want! See if I care!" I challenge.
The sand and wind hits me so hard I'm thrown back on to the ground, sand ripping flesh off my muscles. I'm screaming as millions of tiny sand shards rip me apart and fill my mouth and lungs. This is worse than the frog, far worse! It's also faster, only seconds after the storm hits me, the worlds snapped into blackness like the candle has just been snuffed out.
–
The next time I wake up spewing up water, it's marooned on an island that's so small I can step across it in five strides. There's no plant life, no water, no food. I die of dehydration. Kip holds me in his arms, singing softly, unable to do anything to stop it from happening. I take comfort in knowing I'm with him, I'm still scared though when senses slip away.
The next time I die fighting alongside a crew of strangers, the cutlass through my stomach. I guess Davy Jones likes seeing me fail so miserably in a fight that he repeats that bit a few times. I'm proud to say I get better each time, with some help from Kip, teaching me tips and tricks. I stay alive longer each time. Just when I get excited about trying again and honing my skills with a blade, and thinking I might win, it changes.
The next world I wake up in is high in the mountains, freezing cold and snowing. I've never seen snow and decide right off that I don't like it. It's colder than anything I've ever experienced. I don't even attempt to find a way out of this one. I just sit there under the bows of a pine, heavy laden with layers of the frozen crystals. Kip sits beside me, looking tired, we're both tired.
"Kip..." I say softly
"I'm here" he answers just as softly, putting his arm around me.
"What's the point?" I lean against him, his warm body against mine is always welcome and familiar.
"What else can we do?" He answers with a question.
"Give in...Stop trying, then maybe he'll let us rest" I answer, referring to Davy Jones. I'd never believed the sailors stories before, but now I do.
"I just...I wish I'd gotten to know you before" I say and settle farther into his arms. I don't want to leave his side for an instant. If I'm going to die again and again, I'd prefer it to always be in his arms.
"We can't stop trying...I'd rather keep living moments with you than fade into nothing" Kip answers, kissing my head and curling his arms a little tighter around me, as if the closeness will stop me from dyeing again.
"You'd rather I keep suffering in horrible ways?" I ask, trying to make him see the mental pain I'm in. I don't fear death now, only dread the pain that comes before.
"No...No I don't want that" he answers and I can hear him straining and I realize the emotional trauma of watching me die over and over, must be horrible for him, yet, he's always been so strong, fighting to keep me safe, always determined that I'm going to live, encouraging me. I'd never realized how hard this is for him too.
"I'm sorry Kip I didn't.....I'm sorry" My voice falls into a whisper, ashamed I'm being so selfish.
He's been strong for me, maybe now I need to be strong for him. With a new resolve, I slip out from under his arm. "We aren't going to die this time" I say firmly, surprising him.
"But.." he starts, though stands and nods.
"What do we do?" he asks.
"Well....Our first worry is keeping warm, water is no issue. We can melt snow for that..." My mind reals over everything I've read in books. Since my father never let me out, I had to satisfy my lack of adventures by reading about other peoples accomplishments from other parts of the world that I'd never see.
"We need to build a shelter out of packed snow..." I finally say "Then find a food source" I smile, I can see hope again and I think Kip can too, I can see it in those eyes.
Together the two of us construct a little hallow beneath the snow, packing it tight so it won't collapse. Kip hauls in branches we use as support beams and more to dry out and use for fire wood to cook our food. Kips proven apt at making small traps for rabbits and other small animals. Within a few days, we've made a cozy little home, we have to share Kips boots though so only one of us can be outside at a time but that's alright.
It's been a week, longer than either of us has lasted. Exactly one week from when we woke beneath that tree, we're snuggled up together, Kips arms around me and my head against his shoulder.
"Kip" I say softly
"Yes Ali?"
"Are you happy?" I ask
"Immeasurably" he answers and smiles down at me.
"Me too" I say before I close my eyes to sleep. It's been a long day.
--
For the thirteenth time Sea water explodes out of my mouth leaving me coughing and heaving, I'm tired and don't care where I've woken up this time. Just let it be over. I didn't even die the last time, this isn't fair!
For several minutes, I don't even pay attention if anyone else is there. Kip probably is, but what does that matter anymore.
"Hey easy now" It is Kips voice. I push away his hand as he rubs my back.
"Just go away!" I bark at him and climb to my feet. The the still choppy sway of the boat doesn't make me stumble like it had when the storm began and the boards beneath my feet are more familiar than any cobble stone road back home.
When I look up I see Kip staring at me, I've never shouted at him before. Bill is staring too, his sun withered face and friendly pale blue eyes are a welcome sight and a new change to Davy Jones' antics.
He's never been in these, dreams I suppose they could be called. Kip is the only face that's been familiar, the rest were strangers. Maybe Bill's died too. I don't ask, like Kip, I don't want to know, I'd rather believe them alive and well.
"Ay! She got er sea-legs 'bout er now, guess old blue wanted to teach her a thin or two eh Kip?" Bill says and elbows the taller man in the ribs, bringing his attention off of me and to the old cook instead.
"About time too" Kip says and shrugs "See that she gets water and food in her with the rest" Kip ordered, his voice full of the confidence and authority I remember, not the tender gentle Kip I've gotten to know since I died.
"Don't concern yourself, Davy Jones is just foolin' with me again and I ain't having none of it" I say and grab hold of the rigging's and swing up and begin to climb, aware that crew-mates are gawking. They aren't strangers this time, the same crew I've been sailing with for months.
Bill looks at Kip who only smirks in response to Bills stunned gaze. "Everthin' is gonna be fine now" Kip says before he walks off and starts barking orders, getting the men into action cleaning debre from the ship's deck. I tune it out and climb up to the crows nest and stand watch. My throat is screaming at me for water but I ignore it. I will not give in to these tricks. I just won't. I stay up there all day, ignoring any voices that call up to me.
Finally night comes and eases the heat of the day. I'm sunburned, severely dehydrated and still obstinate. Kip doesn't talk to me until only the night watch is out. He climbed up into the crows nest beside me and sits with a flask of water and some bread and chicken from the galley "Drink, eat" he insists and shoves the items into my hands. It's clear I don't get a choice.
I decide to give in and take the water first, drinking almost all of it in one go, I didn't realize just how thirsty I was until that moment.
Kip sits silently beside me until I've finished eating too.
"What's goin' on with you Al?" Kip asks, watching me carefully.
"What do you mean what's going on?" I ask and look at him now.
" Ye're stubborn, I've always known that, but tis, tis is madness. Ye're goin' to kill yourself" he frowns.
"doesn't matter, I'm already dead" I answer and look down at my empty plate.
"Ye're not, Bill dove in after you 'n some 'o th other men pulled you back on deck. You were out for hours and I thought you were dead for sure. Couldn't get you to breath. But you aren't dead, Ye're here" Kip replies "Let's keep it tha' way eh?"
I think over what he's said, maybe I had died but maybe I'd come back for real this time. Things are normal, the whole crew is there and Kips not been his gentle sympathetic self at all.
"I'm guessin ye had a near death encounter with old Davy Jones" Kip goes on to guess when I say nothing. "I had that happen once, Just been made Quartermaster and went over just like you. I kept dyeing and waking up in different places, alone in some of the most hostile terrains where I'd meet my end in horrible ways...Then...Well it was Captain Davis who brought me back" Kip explained before he stood up and offered me a hand. I take it, staring up at him. Davis rescued him. So Kip saved me then? How was that possible? It's such an unreal possibility that I don't know how to process it. Yet, it has to be real, I just went through it all, just as he'd described his experience.
"It was horrible" I confess
"Hopefully not all of it was" Kip says and I catch a glimpse of him, in the eyes, the Kip from the locker.
"No...Just the parts where I died" I answer, a small smile slowly climbing my face. "The rest of it was nice, thanks" I say, watching him as he smiles a little too.
" Ye're welcome" he answers me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before climbing out of the crow's nest and down the rigging and away from me. I watch him, still smiling. There's no doubt in my mind that what we shared in the Locker was real and the connection we made there will last beyond death, literally.
Bright lights came cascading down,
Like the harsh waters of a waterfall —
Crashing, pounding, relentless;
Blinding.
A voice thundered all around
Drowning out any sound.
"What have you done?" It demanded —
Accused.
Shaky and unsure, she stood
Mouth ajar; searching for words.
"It was like I'd slipped,
Tripped—"
A flood of warm water engulfed her frame,
Clouded her senses, left her in silence.
"And… fell into a pleasant dream—
Into darkness."
It had all ended perfectly.
In silence,calmness, darkness;
Wrapped in the Earth's womb.
No disturbances.
She had surrendered to blissful darkness,
Sinking deep into the grey waters.
Just another stone
Lining the Abyss.
Yet that perfect dream,
It was not meant to last.
Awoken too early
By light.
All too bright.
He shouldn't be...
Her peaceful bliss, that pleasant dream;
Both were swept away.
Leaving her to endlessly scream
Into this hellish nightmare.
Like the harsh waters of a waterfall —
Crashing, pounding, relentless;
Blinding.
A voice thundered all around
Drowning out any sound.
"What have you done?" It demanded —
Accused.
Shaky and unsure, she stood
Mouth ajar; searching for words.
"It was like I'd slipped,
Tripped—"
A flood of warm water engulfed her frame,
Clouded her senses, left her in silence.
"And… fell into a pleasant dream—
Into darkness."
It had all ended perfectly.
In silence,calmness, darkness;
Wrapped in the Earth's womb.
No disturbances.
She had surrendered to blissful darkness,
Sinking deep into the grey waters.
Just another stone
Lining the Abyss.
Yet that perfect dream,
It was not meant to last.
Awoken too early
By light.
All too bright.
He shouldn't be...
Her peaceful bliss, that pleasant dream;
Both were swept away.
Leaving her to endlessly scream
Into this hellish nightmare.
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