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thetransientwraith · 6 years ago

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Night Drive

I slammed the door behind me as I left, muffling her shouts. I stomped down the stairs, jingling my keys to tune her out. The door swung open again and slammed against the wall. She was at the top of the stairs, screaming after me.

“Come back! I’m not done talking to you, asshole!”

“I’m done talking to you!” I shouted back over my shoulder.

The door to our apartment closed again firmly—finally, she shut the hell up. I needed to get away from her for a while. I wonder if she’s out tonight?

I left our dingy apartment complex. It was almost midnight, a fresh Wednesday night. Not a cloud to be seen, few stars dotting the sky, not too many people out—a perfect night for a drive.

Someone was there, leaning against the wall. She was waiting for me this time. “Got your keys?”

“When do I not?”

Since it was my turn to drive, I hopped into the driver’s seat, and she the passenger’s. I slid the key into the ignition and took the car out of park. I looked up to our apartment’s window. Emma was watching; she always did. She always hated when I left. She used to ask me when I’d be back. She used to care when I’d leave. Sometimes, I would almost regret going out when I returned. My head hit the seat cushion as the car rocketed onto the road. The screech of the tires, along with Sam’s maniacal laughter filled the quiet night.

“Geez! Are you trying to kill me?!” I yelled after I regained control of the gas pedal. The thunderous pounding of my heart blared rhythmically in my ears.

She kept laughing. “So, where to?”

I gave her a half-hearted snarl. “The lake.”

The highway was nearly vacant. Save the odd passerby or two, Samantha and I were the only ones on the road. It was always that way during the week. People are always busy then. They’re sleeping, working, or with family on weeknights. Since Sam started taking me out at nights, I’d always preferred to drive. It was relaxing, comforting. Nothing but the open road.

“So, what was it about this time?” Sam asked.

I feigned a confused look. “What?”

“Don’t give me that, it’s all over your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“With how loud you two were yelling, I’m sure half the town knows.”

I’m not sure why I ever tried hiding things from her. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re friends aren’t we?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You really should open up to people, you know. It’s good for you.”

I breathed a heavy sigh. She won’t let it go.

“It was dumb argument about our dinner this evening,” I said.

“Really loud for an argument about food,” Sam laughed. “What was it really about?”

I could never fool her. Why I keep trying has eluded me for years.

A heavy sigh preceded my answer. “She asked me about our future together. You know… marriage.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said her meatloaf was shit.”

Sam broke out into a mix of absolutely hysterical laughter and snorting. My nervous chuckles joined her.

“That’s so bad, Riley!” she exclaimed once her fit had nearly subsided.

That’s the thing about these late-night drives. It’s just me, Sam, a car, and the road. That’s it. No Emma, no job, no family, no problems. It’s serene, therapeutic, even.

Sam fumbled around in the glovebox for a moment until she withdrew a small, tattered black notebook.

“I said her meatloaf was shit,” she mumbled as she jotted it down. “That might be one of the best ones this month.”

She’d begun writing why I’d left or been kicked out of the apartment down. It’s only been a few months, and the book’s already half-full of my shouting matches with Emma.

“Her meatloaf was shit, I didn’t want to talk to her parents, I didn’t clean while she was away, she didn’t make dinner, I didn’t want to talk about our engagement,” she read from the book before closing it with a hearty thud and toothy grin. “This week’s been pretty good”

“You know, it’s rude to stick yourself in someone else’s relationship,” I said.

“You know, it’s rude to call someone else’s meatloaf shit,” she retorted.

“She’s my girlfriend, I can call her meatloaf shit if I want to.”

“She’s your fiancée, isn’t she?”

I bit my lip. “Yeah, she is.”

Sam grew silent at my answer, sensing my apprehension of this topic (not that it’s stopped her before).

We’re supposed to be getting married in a month. When she proposed to me, I didn’t know what to think. That night, she surprised me with reservations at an extremely upscale restaurant. She made sure we were both wearing our best dresses for the occasion. We sat down and ordered our drinks. Wine for her, champagne for me. She looked so beautiful that night, more than she usually did. She spent a lot of time freshening up in the restroom that evening, I remember. Our drinks arrived fairly quickly. I took a sip of my champagne, when suddenly, I felt something swim into my mouth. I hadn’t noticed the ring at the bottom of the glass. She asked me to marry her then. I don’t know if she noticed, but I hesitated. What was I supposed to say, no? With everyone in the room watching? I kissed her, and I said I’d marry her.

That was nine months ago.

The first time our marriage was postponed, it was because of a death. My uncle had died just days before the wedding. I never knew him, and I’d be lying if I said I really cared about the guy, which is exactly what I did. Suddenly, he was my favorite uncle. I couldn’t get on without him; I was crushed. Emma understood, and so the marriage was put on hold.

The second time was during flu season. A few of the guests had gotten sick, but Emma and I were as healthy as ever. In the weeks prior to the wedding, I hoped and prayed to any and all gods that I’d wake up feeling like death. It never came, but Emma didn’t know that. One day, I woke up, and everything ached, especially my head, and I only just managed to get out of bed. She took my temperature; 103℉. I had gotten the flu. The wonders of lying and a hot rag.

I’m not especially proud of the third time. I didn’t have an excuse. There was no unimaginable stroke of luck, no ruse, nothing. I just… started an argument with her—over absolutely nothing. I was relaxing on the couch, watching television. She walked in, pamphlets in hand. Choice reception caterers were on the cover. She’d been going on and on about the wedding nonstop. I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed at her. I was tired of it. Obviously hurt, she screamed back. Things were swept off of tables, and chairs were toppled. I stormed out just before her first tear fell. Of course I felt terrible, how could I not? But everyone gets tired eventually, right?

I needed to clear my head, so decided to visit one of my favorite spots. Just outside of town, there was a lake, not too big, not too deep. Two hills flanked its sides in perfect congruence. In the summer and spring, teens could often be spotted swimming and diving from the hilltops. Once the sun started to die, the other visitors would begin to dissipate, and come nightfall, would it be all mine. There was a specific spot I always went to: a set of small rocks at the edge of the lake. It was about a ten minute walk through a thicket, but it was well worth it. The clearing provided a spectacular view of the lake and the two hills that encroached on its sides. I used to sit there for hours at a time almost every day, just enjoying the peace. Things like that change once you get into a committed relationship. I made the walk, shivering as the cold winter winds bit at my flesh. I saw her there, atop one of the rocks, a lit cigarette between her lips. No one’s ever been there before, not while I was there. Sam turned and met my gaze; I must have been wearing an awful expression, because she immediately began to laugh at me.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” she said with a toothy grin. She held the pack of cigarettes out towards me. “Want one?”

Despite her mocking, there was an odd disarming charm about her. I was going to leave, but instead decided to stay. A conversation should keep my mind busy. I sat down on the rock next to her.

She shook the pack at me. “Well?”

I hadn’t smoked in years. I quit just after Emma and I got together. “Sure.” Maybe one wouldn’t hurt.

A particularly chilly wind blew by, icing me to my bones. “Nice night, huh?” Sam spoke sarcastically, now looking again at the still lake.

“Yeah, great night,” I chuckled. “I usually like coming here when it’s warmer out.”

“So what brings you out here tonight, stranger?”

“Not much, I just like the quiet.”

“You can get quiet anywhere.”

I remember being taken aback by this. She looked at me again, with her piercing catlike eyes. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about some random person’s issues,” I replied sheepishly.

“I’ve got time, especially for a good story,” she assuaged.

So I told her. I told her everything. And she listened.

“Well, you, my friend, are one fucked up girl,” she said, tossing the butt of her previous cigarette and sparking another one.

“Fuck you,” I reproached.

“Sorry girl, I don’t roll that way. But hey, we can be friends. I’m always up for a good story.”

Even then, I thought she was a confusing person. I didn’t know how to respond.

“So, you drive here?” Sam asked.

I snapped out of my confusion. “Yeah, I parked just down the trail.”

“Sweet, I’ll meet you there, then.”

The gears in my head were working overtime trying to piece together what just happened. Even while I was driving her to the gas station for a bag of chips, I was still processing the situation. It wasn’t until we arrived at my apartment did I realize I had just told a perfect stranger my life’s story, let them in my car, drove them around, and showed them where I lived. Even thousands of miles away, I could hear my mother scolding me.

“Same time next week?” Sam asked once I’d parked.

“Actually, I’ll just swing by whenever. This seems to happen often.”

I didn’t even get to answer.

And just before she left, she shot me one last toothy grin.

To this day, I don’t know why I let her drag me around.

“So…?” Sam prodded.

“So?”

“Why are you such a dick to her?”

“Because she always starts something with me. You don’t know her, man,” I said, annoyed.

“I know you.”

“Unfortunately,” I muttered under my breath.

We pulled into the lot before the trail. No cars, no people, as always. After a few minutes of walking in silence, we made it to our usual spot. I sat down, slouched over with my head between my hands.

“What’s your deal?” Sam asked, sparking a cigarette. Her lungs must be charcoal by now.

“Nothin’, just thinking,” I replied, taking a cigarette she had offered me.

I lit up and dragged hard, and felt my muscles relax. I could almost hear my nerves thanking me and my lungs cursing me.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said between drags.

“Smoking is bad for you,” Sam said.

“I meant fighting with Emma. I just… I can’t do this.”

“People fight. Couples fight. Pre-marriage nerves are pretty testy, I’ve heard,” she said.

“She’s my fiancée,” I said. “She deserves better.”

My eyes began to get hot. I am not going to cry in front of Sam.

“Maybe she does deserve better.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What’s keeping you from leaving?”

“I love her, you dipshit,” I laughed.

“I know you do,” Sam said, devoid of her usual playfulness.

“So what?”

“You have a car, some money, and nearly a full tank of gas,” she said.

I looked at her confusedly. She stared right back at me.

“Just some food for thought.”

We sat in silence for what felt like eons. I usually don’t mind sitting with her without saying a word, but this time, the silence felt absolutely oppressive.

“Well, I’m bored,” Sam finally broke the silence. “Let’s go to the gas station, I could use a snack.”

I nodded, and followed her back to the car.

“I’ll drive,” she said as she opened entered the driver’s seat. I didn’t mind. I wanted to think, anyways.

She pulled us out of the parking lot and onto a sparsely populated highway.

“Guess I’ll take you home after we hit the station. Emma must miss you,” Sam said after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah, guess so,” I muttered, my mind still on what Sam had said earlier. Emma does deserve better. She deserves the best. I could be better. Can I be better?

“Hey, can I see the book for a minute?” I asked.

Sam pulled the black book from one of her jacket’s pockets. I opened the book to a random page. The pages were filled entirely with things I’d said and done to Emma. “Her meatloaf is shit, I was tired of seeing her mother, she annoyed the shit out of me, she wouldn’t let me smoke in the house.” A tear silently rolled down my cheek. I hoped to god Sam didn’t notice.

My face and eyes were dry by the time we pulled into the gas station. There was only one worker at the counter. Billy knew us by name, we’d come here so often. He greeted us with a wave and a shy smile as we walked in. Sam casually walked over and picked up her usual brand of barbecue potato chips before heading to the counter. I picked up another pack of cigarettes for us.

“You wanna drive? I’m feeling a bit tired,” Sam asked, dangling my keys between her fingers as she walked back toward the exit.

“Sure, I guess,” I said. She tossed the keys over her head without looking. When they hit my hands, I fumbled and dropped them.

“You wouldn’t want to keep Emma waiting… or would you?”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” I said as I picked the keys up and pocketed them. “Sam?”

But she was gone.

She must already be back at the car, I thought. I paid for our things and left. She wasn’t at the car, either. She had disappeared completely. Befuddled, I hopped in the driver’s seat nonetheless. She must’ve walked off on her own, not that I really cared. I drew the keys from my pocket and started for the ignition. But I stopped. I looked down at the keys. Emma had given me a blue bunny ornament as a cute present early on in our relationship. It hung from the side of the keyring. I stared at it. I stared at it for a long time.

#Drive #Driving #Shortstory #Fiction

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thetransientwraith · 7 years ago

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Slither

If only I could be A slug from the sea

Slither

Plip

Plop

Plip

Plop

My water-logged boots croaked as I stumbled along the shoreline. Though the storm had passed, clouds still blackened the sky. I looked out to the water. Pieces of wood and various bits of debris flooded the water and ran to shore. In the distance was the battered, split hull of what once was a proud galleon, still coasting along the crags in the water. Where am I?

Some of the crew had washed ashore, just as I had. None were as lucky. I ached all over, and myriad cuts and bruises marred my already worn skin. But I was alive. The more fortunate of the ones that had made it to shore were missing only one appendage. Disembodied heads, torsos, and severed limbs dotted the shore. The rest had been taken by the sea, taken by that storm. The water ran red with their blood.

I’m the only one left.

I turned back towards the land, where palm trees loomed overhead. Looking further inland, one could observe the forest becoming denser the further one went in; the domain of predators. I reached down to pat my holsters, only to find them empty. My two truest friends, my cutlass and pistol, were gone. There was no chance of me going in there, not without protection. So I limped along the shoreline, plodding along, aching more with each step. What had I done to deserve this?

Oh, I remember.

I am a pirate, a lowlife brigand, a common thief. I am a liar and a murderer. How many had I killed? How many had I cut down for their gold and silver? How many lives had I ruined? I couldn’t answer. This is my reckoning.

Of all the things I’ve done, that was the worst.

The storm did this to me, took everything I had. We’d been at sea for a few weeks, my men and I. The skies had been cloudy for several days, and harrowing rains and cutting winds battered us for hours on end. That’s when I saw it. A massive twister, several stories high, hung over the water. ? The men begged and howled at me to change our heading, and I obliged. Still, the twister was too fast. The last thing I saw was the twister barreling towards our ship, sending us careening off course, ripping the planks from the ship and the men from the deck.

After walking along the shore for about an hour, I finally saw some signs of life. A ship was docked here, gently bobbing with the waves. Ecstatic, I rushed over, kicking up sand in my wake. The dock was completely devoid of life, no hands, no cargo movers, no one. An oddity, to be sure, but stranger things have happened. I climbed the steps to the deck only to find it empty as well. The ship had clearly been here for a long time, as moss, and even barnacles coated much of the deck. Under a layer of moss, I found the trapdoor to the ship’s innards. “Hello?” I called down into the ship. No response. Tentatively, I stepped down into the below deck. There had to be someone somewhere.

The ship’s insides were as rotted as the outside. Barnacles lined the walls, and sea snails slithered on the wooden planks. “Hello? Is there anyone here?” I called out again. The low groan of the ship served as my response. The planks moaned as I walked through the ship’s guts. I spotted an old barrel sitting alongside the wall. The hilts of several swords stuck out from inside. I looked at the swords. Many were chipped, all were rusted. I took the least worn one from the barrel and holstered it.

After cutting down a massive cobweb that blocked the doorway, I made my way to the next room, which appeared to be where they stored the majority of their arms. Cannonballs, barrels of gunpowder, and rotted pistols were stored in many of the containers. None of the pistols looked functional; they had decayed far too much. How long had this ship been here? “Hello?” I called one last time, all of my hopes of encountering another soul being carried on my breath. And my hope was lost from me.

At the other end of the room was another decrepit trapdoor. Warily, I stepped down into the darkness below, sword in hand. It started to dawn on me that the ship must be massive to have three decks. Oddly enough, it didn’t appear that large on the outside. It was perfectly dark on this deck. All light had been lost on the deck above. Not unusual, I supposed. Underwater decks must be dark. Tentatively, I stepped forward, one foot at a time, using the sword to feel out my surroundings. Suddenly, one of my feet plopped into something. Something with a gooey texture. It was then that I noticed the stench. The foulest smell this side of the Atlantic rose from the ground and burned my nostrils. It was too much. I leaned over and began to heave until this morning’s breakfast decorated the portside wall. Before I could recover, I heard a noise on the other side of the room. A door slowly creaked open, and someone stepped inside. He carried a lantern with him, casting the room in a dim light. “Hey! Thank goodness you’re here, I-” I started.

But he wasn’t human.

The horror had the body of a man, however, it was coated in a thick layer of whatever it was that I had stepped in. Its “hand” in which it held the lantern had small slugs where the fingers should have been. Tentacles jutted out from its neck and wriggled around in the dim light. Their shadows danced on the ceiling. We stood there for a moment, it standing with its tentacles swaying gently, almost trance-like, and me, with my jaw nearly detached from my face. Then it shambled towards me, its tentacle-head reaching out in front of it as if to touch me. It completely engulfed my head, twisting and turning in a swirling torrent of slime. I felt something touch my torso, presumably its slug hands. And I let it all happen to me, as I was petrified with a fear of the worst kind. Suddenly, the thing held itself still, and I felt the tentacles wrap around my head. It was becoming hard to breathe. I tried to gasp for air, but none came. Abruptly, the tentacles released their clasp on my head, allowing me to breathe. As I gasped for breath, the horror before me stood with its tentacles projecting in all directions, quickly vibrating in the air. I looked down, where I saw the sword buried to its rusty hilt in its midriff. When I pulled the sword from its body, it immediately fell to the floor, where the tentacles thrashed for several seconds until slowly coming to a stop. Once the tentacles stopped writhing, the slime on its body retracted, sliding off of its body and onto the floor, revealing tattered sailor’s wear.

I fell to the ground, spraying viscous slime in all directions. I stared wide-eyed at the corpse of the thing I had killed. I’ve lost count of the men and women I’ve butchered, but other than that time, I had never been so bothered by the sight of a dead body. I shivered as I held my knees to my chest. My teeth chattered all on their own. Where the hell am I? Am I in hell? All of a sudden, I started laughing; at myself, at everything that’s happened. Look at me, whimpering like a child. I looked down at my jacket. Ruined. Damn. I sighed and looked again at the corpse. I’d never been the superstitious sort, unlike the rest of my former crew, but I was beginning to rethink my beliefs. What was it? I was certain that some sea-fearing superstitious zealot somewhere that could tell me exactly what it was. Slowly, I leaned over, grabbed the lantern, which had fell next to the corpse, and rose to my feet. I’m not staying in this fucked place, I’ll take my chances with the island, I thought. I looked back up at the trapdoor… where was the trapdoor? The trapdoor and ladder that was attached to it had disappeared. I held the lantern up, illuminating the entire room.

There was no ladder. There was no trapdoor. There was only the slime-coated door at the end of the room.

My eyes widened. This must be a mistake, I thought. I was just a deck above! For an age, I looked around that damned room. While bearing the smell, it felt like an eternity. I sighed and looked toward the door. There was only one exit.

Deeper.

The doorknob was so engulfed in slime that when I tried to turn it, my hand simply slipped off. Several minutes of wiping later, I was holding the lantern up to light up a short hallway. In the middle of passage was a crate. I walked over to the crate and inspected it. It was covered in slime and cobwebs, much like everything else on this level of the ship. I opened the crate. It was filled with hundreds of barnacles. I was taken aback for a moment. What fucker collects barnacles? A shrill screech echoed throughout the ship, nearly making me jump out of my skin and drop the lantern. Every hair on my body was on end. I really didn’t want to know what made that noise. After taking a few short breaths to compose myself, I went to close the crate. They looked at me. Hundreds of eyes, embedded in the barnacles stared me down. “What the fuck?!” I shouted, loudly, falling flat on my ass and squirming to the wall. What the fuck indeed. I rose to my feet shaking. I decided to press on. No need to dwell on… that. I opened the next door and crossed the threshold to the next room, absolutely quaking with each step. I didn’t want to know what was in the next room. I didn’t want to be on this ship. I turned my head to look behind me. There was no door, just another slimy wall. Maybe I am in hell.

I heard it then. It was quiet, only just audible. A humming, so low that the sound of the waves outside nearly drowned it out, but it was there. I didn’t know what I was doing. I walked through the room, past the windows to the outside world, and I entered another hallway, this time, much longer, and with several rooms stemming from it, and windows on the right. Wait… windows. I looked outside. I was sure I was underwater a few moments ago. Just how big is this ship? I looked out towards the sea. It’s moving. I looked out and tried to spot the island, but I couldn’t; it was no longer in sight. How long had we been moving? Clouds still blocked the sun, but enough light poured through that I didn’t need the lantern anymore, so I attached it to the side of my jacket. Clamshells littered the hallway, some with their occupants still inside. I stood dead in my tracks. Something lumbered down the hallway ahead of me. A man, well, a thing. It was covered in barnacles (eyeless, thankfully). As it drew closer, I realized that it didn’t have feet, at least not those of a man. Its “legs” were composed of hundreds upon hundreds of worms. With each step, several of them would break off from the pack and lie on the floor before quickly scurrying back to its place. Atop its jacket was the head of a humungous worm, nearly reaching the ceiling. The thing shambled down the hallway and hung a right, entering one of the doors on my left.

La la la

I heard it much more clearly now, the humming. No, it was singing. It came from the room that thing went into. Suddenly, my legs began to move. One, two, three, four. All on their own, my legs took me forward and stood in the doorframe of that room, where the singing emanated from.

La la la laaaaaa

There were seven of them, all sitting in a circle around something. I had never seen something so horrific. Rotted flesh, limbs in all the wrong places, animal parts, one even had mouths for eyes. They stopped singing as I entered, and turned to look at me. I stood perfectly motionless. Sweat dripped from every inch of my body. But they didn’t seem to care. They turned their attention from me, completely unfazed by my presence, and began to sing once more.

La la la laaaaa la la

The one that had just entered took its place in the circle and added its shrill voice to the group. Without really knowing why, I found myself sitting between two of the monstrosities, the one with mouths for eyes and another with starfish legs for arms and a gaping hole in its chest. In the center of the circle was a single barnacle, one with an eye. It stared at me as I sat there, entranced by their song.

It was a hot day. The sun beat down on our heads while the warm sea winds battered us on all sides. Wait… where am I? I looked around me. Waves crashed against the dock, people bustled about, guardsmen patrolled, and street vendors peddled their wares. I’ve been here before. Am I in… Havana? I was just aboard that ship! No, no, maybe I was dreaming. I must have been dreaming. There’s no way any of that could have been real, right?

And I saw her again.

She was at the apple vendor buying a basketful of apples, like she always did. Her fiery hair flowed down to the middle of her back, and her pink dress covered all but her ankles. I loved that dress. “Clara!” I called as I broke out into a run toward her, surely looking like a madman. Before I could reach her, a tall, gruff-looking man in a black jacket strolled up to her and started a conversation. A sword and pistol were at his side. Within a few seconds, he had her laughing and engaging with him as well. I ran faster and harder than I ever had in my life, but even so, I never seemed to get any closer. I watched as they walked away together, laughing and talking as they did. I stopped running, and merely watched them disappear amongst the buildings. From the corner of my eye, I noticed something strange. It was at the apple vendor’s stand, in one of the containers. Curious, I walked over to it. A large barnacle eye stared back at me.

The ship rocked gently with the waves. I looked around, completely bewildered. I was back in the circle of monsters, as if I had never left. They had stopped singing, and all looked at me. I looked down toward the center of the circle. The barnacle eye was closed. “What the hell was that?!” I shouted, immediately getting to my feet. “Why did you show me that?” I’m not sure why I expected an answer. One of the monsters, the one with mouths for eyes, got up from his seat. Still fearful, I allotted him more than enough space to get up. He pointed a bony finger towards the far wall. I looked up at where it was pointing. It was a statue, an idol of some sort. It was of some creature, one unlike I’d ever seen. Its head was completely covered in some sort of liquid, presumably the same slime that inhabited much of the rest of the ship. It was covered in something resembling a rash, with a large amount of them clustered around its face. Tentacles sprouted from its back and fell down to its base.

La la la laaaa la la laaaa

I found myself staring at it for several minutes while the creatures sang around me. I caught myself and returned my gaze to the creature. “What is that?” I asked, oddly enough expecting an answer. Without any more interaction with me, the creature returned to its seat and continued singing with the rest of its ilk. Thoroughly creeped out, and without turning my back to them, I exited the room.

The floorboards groaned as I crept upon them. Outside, steel clouds still blocked the sun, and rain battered the hull. At these times, I hated being at sea. In the worst of storms, I would think back to life ashore. Stable ground, sweet smells, and general safety were nice things to have. I’d taken them for granted. Just like I did… her.

At the end of the hallway was another door, thankfully, not covered in slime. Rain beat down on my head as I crossed the threshold. I was outside again? I’d learned not to question these things. This has been the least abnormal part of my day. I stepped out onto the deck. It was abandoned, as it was before. Steel clouds stained the sky still, but behind them was a pale full moon. Again, I saw the decrepit cannons and worn sails. Honestly, it’s a miracle this thing hasn’t sank yet. Behind me were two sets of water-logged stairs leading to what I presumed was the navigator’s wheel. I climbed the set of stairs to find the navigator’s wheel and what looked like a tarp covering something behind it. I looked around. There was no navigator. Don’t question these things. I walked over to the wheel and inspected it. A large crack ran down the center, and it was missing several pegs. It’ll do. I took hold of some of the pegs and turned the wheel counterclockwise. A terrible guttural noise echoed throughout the ship and sent shivers down my spine. The ship kept on its course, not reacting at all to my command. Annoyed, I spun the wheel as far as it would go clockwise. A force pushed against me once the wheel was as far as it would go. I held the wheel in place for several seconds before being flung from it from the sheer power of whatever it was that was counteracting me. I looked around. I was the only one on the deck. Hesitantly, I walked back over to the wheel, which was back in neutral position. I slowly placed my hands on it and began to tug it towards port. It wouldn’t budge. Do not question these things. Something stirred behind me. I turned around. A pair of eyes glowed from beneath the tarp. Slowly, whatever it was rose to its feet. The monster dwarfed me, easily reaching a dozen feet tall. Long, spindly arms—no, tendrils— fell to the floor, three on each side. What I thought was a tarp was actually a long, thin layer of skin, flowing with the breeze. In the darkness, I could only just make out its black skin. All I could see were those bright blue eyes. In a panic, I drew my pistol and fired. The ball went through its body and exited out the other side, leaving a small hole in the center of its body, but no blood left the wound. The skin then began to mend itself, as if it were fabric. In an instant, the tendrils wrapped themselves around my arms, hoisting me into the air. The monster brought me to its face, which was long and slender, almost like a dog’s. Its eyes met mine.

“So you’re just going to leave me here?” a voice said.

“Well what do you want me to do?” said another.

Where am I now? I looked around, completely dazed and out of sorts. It was a small home; portraits and drawings lined the walls, art supplies littered the floors, and the smell of fresh baking was in the air. Outside the one window, clothes could be seen drying in the wind. Clara sat on the edge of her bed, sporting a mean look. The tall man (still in the same jacket) stood by the exit.

“I want you to learn an honest trade to help support us!” Clara yelled, placing a hand on her round belly.

“This is all I can do,” the man said solemnly. “Besides, I can earn so much more for us out at sea than on some farm.”

“You’d rather be a brigand than a working man?”

“I am a working man.”

“Get to fuck, then,” Clara spat, turning her back to the man.

“Clara, please-”

“Go!”

The world around me melted. For a moment, I was in a world of white, of nothingness. It felt almost… good. But the world returned to me. I was on a ship again, but not the ancient hellhole I was just on. I was on my ship, The Dread Whale. My crew was there, along with that tall man. We were docked at a port while some of my crewmen unloaded our wares. One of my crewmembers went up to the man as he stood next to the navigator’s wheel. He handed the man an envelope, which the man opened, revealing a slip of paper.

“Oy lads! I’ve got another from my sweetheart ‘ere!” the man shouted with a hearty smile.

The men assembled in a crowd on the deck, cheering as the man unfurled his letter.

“Dearest Edward,” the man started with a wide grin. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. But… I can’t be with a man who robs for a living.”

The crowd went silent, and the grin on the man’s face faded.

He continued. “Please, don’t come back.”

A howl unlike any other split the air and cut deep into my ears. The man clutched the letter in his hands, and tore it to shreds, letting it drift off into the wind.

“Make way for Havana, now!” the man bellowed from atop the stairs.

Hurriedly, the crew scrambled to their stations while the man looked out at the sea, sporting the wildest, most pained expression on his face.

The scene fell apart. Rain dripped on my head, and I found myself bathed in moonlight. He walked slowly through the trees, splattering mud with each step. In his hands, he held a sword and a large blunderbuss.

Oh no.

“Please, stop!” I yelled, running over to him. “Don’t do it!”

I moved to block his path. I flinched as his body moved through mine without contact. No, this isn’t happening. I drew my sword from its sheathe and swung at him. The blade phased through him, as if I had tried to cut air. At the end of the short trail was the cottage from the previous vision.

Please, no.

The man paused for a minute once he saw it. An awful look spread across his face; one full of hatred.

Please don’t do this.

I ran ahead of him, passing through his body and reaching the front door of the cottage. My hand phased through the doorknob as I tried to open it. Fuck. Hurriedly, I simply ran straight through the door. Thankfully, I passed through and made it inside the cottage. Clara was there, sitting at the edge of her bed, and so was another man. His lips were firmly locked against hers, and his hand rubbed against her pregnant belly. “Clara! You have to get out of here!” I yelled. No one heard me. “Clara, please, please listen,” I exclaimed, tears now streaming from my eyes. I extended my hand out to her face. It passed through her completely.

Bang

The door collapsed and splintered apart, and the tall man entered. His face went still when he saw Clara’s new lover in her arms. The scene became a blur. The man’s sword bit deep into the other’s flesh, nearly severing his left arm from the rest of his body. Clara screamed a high-pitched wail, and tried to grab the sword from the man’s hand. A shot rang out, echoing through the forest. Clara looked down at the crater the blunderbuss had left in her stomach. Her lips curved to say something, but nothing came. She fell to the floor next to her lover, and twitched until she moved no more. The wild expression on the man’s face faded to a look of horror. “Oh, oh no,” he said, dropping his weapons to the floor. As he scooped Clara’s bloodied body into his hands, the scene fell apart.

I’m so sorry.

I found myself once more staring into a set of pale blue eyes. Slowly, the tendrils unfurled themselves from around my arms, causing me to drop to the wet ground. I felt sick. I wretched on the ground, heaving until I vomited at the creature’s feet. “I’m so sorry Clara, I’m so sorry,” I cried as I curled up on the ground. I laid there, expecting the horror to brutalize me, I pondered what sequence of events led me here. This is my reckoning, no more, no less. But it never came. The horror simply walked off, leaving me in my pool of despair. It walked down the steps, its tendrils dragging on the stairs as it moved. It glanced at me one final time before entering the ship through the doorway that I had come from. My heart pounded long after the horror had left. Finally, I got up. There was still one place I haven’t explored. I looked toward the bow, toward the captain’s quarters.

Whatever awaited me, I hoped it would kill me. I opened the door to the captain’s quarters. Immediately, a familiar rancid odor struck me in the face. The room was covered entirely in that ooze from before. I looked down; it covered the floors as well. Wonderful. I sloshed into the room, taking care not to trip over anything that may be covered by the slime. Massive cobwebs ran down the room. At the other side of the room was an oddly placed window. Curious, I walked over to the window and drew it open. There was a lake on the other side. My jaw dropped further than it ever had.

And I heard it again.

La la laaaaa

The singing.

La laaaaaa

It called to me.

Without hesitation, I jumped through the window and landed with a splash on the other side. Although the water only rose up to around my ankles, the lake was massive, stretching much farther than I could see. Actually, there was nothing to see. Aside from the window to the captain’s quarters behind me, there was nothing. No trees, no ocean, no ships, just white and the dusty clouds above.

La laaaaa

The singing pierced through my head and bounced around in my skull. I needed to find the source. It was just so… beautiful. So I walked. And while I walked, I thought. I thought about the visions I’d been shown by the creatures, of my actions, of Clara.

I’m so sorry.

If I could take it all back, somehow repent for my sins, I would. I’d give anything to have her back, to hold her in my arms again.

Is it even worth living anymore?

How long had I been walking? I turned around. The window had vanished, and nothing lied before me. There was nothing for me, nothing at all. I noticed a speck in the distance. Elated, I veered off the path I’d been walking and sprinted toward the speck, sending water in all directions in my wake. I arrived at the speck panting, and with a horrible stitch in my side. I leaned over to catch my breath.

La la laa laa

I heard the singing, it came from here, where I stood. I looked up. Innumerable eyes stared down at me. I stepped back and wiped my eyes, vision still blurred from sheer exhaustion. Tentacles swept down to the water and slowly encompassed me. Slime dripped from its face, but the eyes were still clearly visible. I looked closer, they were barnacle eyes. It had four mouths, two on one side of its “head”, another on its left side, and one across one of the tentacles. It was the monster from the idol. The mouths sang to me.

La la la laaaa

Is this… what I wanted? For the first time since… Clara I felt… contentment. I was… happy. I felt warm. Slugs swam at my feet. I envied them. To sit here and listen to the songs of this thing, it must be a gift. The thing reached one of its tentacles down to me. I didn’t move, not an inch. I let it touch and caress my forehead. I felt warm.

This is what I want.

If only I could be

A slug from the sea

And it granted my wish.

Slither

#lovecraftian #fiction #shortstory #slither #lovecraft #nautical

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