Chapter One - The Ghost Ship
"Have you ever seen such a red sunset?" asked the young crewmen. His eyes illuminated by the soft glow of the reds and oranges on the horizon.
"I rarely look at it anymore. Used too … but after weeks and weeks on the open water it gets repetitive," grunted a shirtless crewmen who was coiling rope near the edge where the younger sailor was sitting staring off into the horizon. "You know … some people say you'll go cabin crazy if you do that for to long."
"Who says that!?" The boy retorted.
"Eh, you know … some people," the elder crewman grunted back not caring to start a fight.
A bell rang below deck and all the deckhands dropped what they were doing and ran for the door that led below deck.
"Dinner, you daydreaming sissy," grumbled the elder crewman over his shoulder.
"Yah, yah, I'll be there shortly."
As the sun finally dipped its last time below the horizon, the boy got up from his perch and strutted toward the door.
"FOG ROLLING IN FROM THE EAST CAPTAIN!" cried the man in the crows nest.
"THANK YOU," screamed back the captain of the small cargo vessel, "WE'LL DEAL WITH IT AFTER THE MEAL, COME ON DOWN."
The boy sat in the corner quietly looking down into what he could only assume was some type of chowder or soup and opted for his cracker instead. Nibbling on it, he looked around the tight room at the 30 some odd people that had crowded into the dinning area to eat. The Captain liked to keep a tight crew, and one of the ways he did so was by making all the crew of The Jade Meridian cram into a small room and eat slop together. There was laughter, throwing of crackers, loud talk, soft whispers in corners, and a pair of people started arm wrestling. The Captain sat dignified at the head of the table, and his first mate and second mate sat on either side of him. None of them really seems to be bothered by the commotion or the ruckuses that was going on around them. The Captain was good, thought the boy. He could steer the boat from swells, he could navigate tight reefs, and could when necessary out run a devastating storm. Never had he really felt his life was in peril, and the route was simple enough: England to Morocco where they would pick up a shipment from "The Company" then across the Atlantic to the new world where they would net a hefty sum and have a two week shore leave, before resigning for the trip back or opting to stay. It was a great way to see the world. A small wrestling match had started in the opposite corner between two rather brute like crewmen, but it was quickly calmed by the second mate.
Looking down the boy spooned the slop in a East India Trading Company bowl, playing with it and eventually deciding to give it a try. It was easier to eat it than try and smuggle it onto the deck and throw it over board, and rather risky as well. The Captain hated wasting food, and if you were found to be stealing food, or not eating it you were subject to grueling deck work in the sun at high noon.
It wasn't half bad … kind of chewy, kind of bland, the only real taste it had came from the salt and a little bit of pepper, but other than that it was just tasteless white-brown slop.
"Hey kid, you wanna play cards?" asked a nearby clean cut sailor. "No thanks, I have rope duty," replied the boy "maybe another time." Soon enough the Captain dismissed the crew to their leisure time and selected a few of the more rambunctious dinner individuals to help prepare for the fog and night.
The deck was quiet, peaceful … abandoned. The loudest sound was that of the waves lapping against the side of the boat. You could hear the thumping and hustle and bustle from below decks. From the Captains quarters you could hear the soft sound of him playing his violin, as his parrot squawked. It was calm, and peaceful, the dark night sky had settled in above, but clouds had rolled in and obstructed the view of the stars, and to the east the fog rolled in rather menacingly. It felt strange. The boy felt as if the warmth from the day was being ripped from his body, as the cold wet fog crept in and surrounded the boat. It began creeping up the side of the boat as he continued to coil rope and put it in its places. Soon there was a fine layer of fog on the deck, and he noticed things had become silent. The noise from below had stopped, the violin was quiet, and the parrot had become mute. The only sound was the soft lapping of water against the boat as the boat lazily drifted along. The lamp at the door to the lower decks gave an eerie glow as it reflected and illuminated the fog. At the head of the boat another lamp did the same but silhouetted a few crewmen standing there as awestruck by the fog as he was. On the steering deck the Second Mate was stiff; he was looking straight ahead as if like a statue.
The boy's stomach turned in uneasiness, but he went back to sorting rope. His hands now trembled half from fright, and half from the cold as he quickly and carelessly coiled the ropes and put them were they belonged. Faster, his mind raced, faster. The quicker you are done the quicker you can be below deck. Faster. Faster.
As he slid a coil of rope onto the hook where it belonged he the wall caught his eye. The lamp had illuminated the grains in the wood. But, that couldn't be what caught his eye, he looked closer … and realized the wall was stained in red. He turned around, more red stains on the wood. The floor looked as if it had been washed in red. Chunks of red lay on the deck. He turned and headed back toward where he was working. The rope was red, and wet, and warm … it smelled of blood … he squeezed the rope and it gave … It turned red! Splashes of red everywhere! Where was everyone? He looked to the front of the boat, the silhouettes were till there but they were ridged. The second mate was still stone cold staring ahead, but … there was something missing … or something added? He was covered in red as well. Where was his other arm? It must be hidden by the light. This must be a trick of the fog.
He turned again, more red splashed across the deck, there were people coming from below deck … oh thank god, his brain screamed. "Hello?" he called out.
No response … What was this? "HELLO? Hey what's going on?" he pleaded in a trembling voice.
Nothing. Panic struck. Should I jump from the boat? Should I stand here? Should I run below deck? Should I find the Captain? The boys mind couldn't complete a thought; his eyes were fixated on the silhouetted figures slumped and hunched lurching forward towards him. RUN! His brain screamed. RUN!
His stomach turned again. He turned to run. His feet would not respond. He lurched forward, and tripped falling forward into the coil of wet warm red mushy rope. "AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" his screams were muffled by the bodies of this fellow crewmen as they circled around him.
As the sun rose, the fog receded. The sails where down on The Jade Meridian and nothing stirred. Absolute motionlessness, not a crewmember in sight, but the ship was covered in what looked like red paint. Slowly and softly The Jade Meridian floated onward.
My name is Aaron Scotch, and the police will find my body in seven days. My death will be ruled out as a suicide.
In six days, I will be murdered mysteriously. How do I know, you wonder? Well … we’ll discuss that later.
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Monday: my favorite and least favorite day of the week.
6:30AM. Damn. I woke up before my alarm again.
In one hundred and thirty two seconds I will drift back to the place between sleeping and waking.
In fifteen minutes, my body will spasm, and I will wake up again.
6:45AM. If I can roll off this god forsaken futon mattress, I can wake up.
I’ll take a piss and wash my face.
I’ll return to my deformed white washed room.
I’ll apply the named brand deodorant.
I’ll get dressed in casual non-threatening cloths.
I’ll douse myself in a fragrance spray that was marketed using extensive sex appeal.
I’ll grab my stolen suede jacket, and nine year old backpack.
As I walk down the dimly light staircase I will marvel at how well the backpack has served me thought Junior High, High School, and now, most of the way through college.
I will turn on the obtrusive television, and watch a news station for the sole fact that the traffic girl is attractive.
I will make coffee, and pour myself a bowl of cereal. Or, at least I would try. I would be stopped by the lack of clean bowls and cups, because of my college room mates, and their stereotypical cleaning habits.
After cleaning a bowl for the six hundred and sixty first time, and washing out a mug, I will consume my dull commercially brainwashed American breakfast.
Maybe I’ll have a banana to make it a little different.
She’s wearing a Japanese inspired pink and black dress thing. It would make anyone look good, but it just looks wrong on her.
The lead anchor tries to flirt with her, as she talks about a car crash on some highway near
7:30AM. She smiles. I realize that I must leave.
I put on the only socks that don’t look brown and gross, and wonder when my gross athletes’ foot will go away. I slip on my black sneakers. In the past I would have swapped the black laces out for lime green ones, but the trend caught on, and materialistic wanna-be punk goth idiots piss me off. They walk around in their tweet patched coats, with tight pants that they can barely fit in. Their pants rid half way down their ass because they are so tight, but these weird un-conforming, conformers tuck in their shirts to pass it off. They walk around in converse shoes pretending they give a shit about the 80’s and yet, dish out cash at starbucks. Funny how starbucks was an internet era creation, and in the 80’s you wouldn’t have had the balls to spend that much on coffee.
I pissed myself off again.
I leave the apartment through the front door today. I walk down the half lane road and cut between the yellow and red buildings. I walk on a “wooded path.” But the reality is that someone was jut to lazy to put the road through. \
As I pass by the abandoned brick building on the corner, I recognize an oddly uncommon graffiti marker. It’s not a gang marker, nor is it some ones name. It’s not a piece of art, nor is it just a random jargon. It’s an occult symbol, and my brain jolts awake.
I try to make note of it in the back of my head, so I can investigate it later after class, but I know I will probably forget.
I’m slightly scared. My mind wonders back to last Thursday as I cross the road to a nice neighborhood of old people and middle class houses.
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Thursday, March 2nd, 8:00PM. My blood tasted like iron. But why did I taste blood?
Oh right, her boyfriend punched me. It’s surprising how bad the combined taste of blood and muddy salt water is. My lip was cut and I had a gash on my head that was now being washed out with the muddy puddle water from the thawing snow. His boot was making a nice imprint on the other side of my face as he yelled some stupid bull shit and tried to crush my skull by standing on it.
What a jealous prick.
It’s not my fault that his parents neglected him as a child. It’s not my fault that he’s drowning himself in online games because he’s so sexually frustrated. In fact it’s not my fault the he’s so sexually frustrated either. It’s funny how guilt, doubt and jealousy can make your penis soft. This guy is fucking stupid.
He’s going out with her, and she’s fucking gorgeous. She knows it too, because I make sure she does.
But he doesn’t think he desires her. And he’s right. He’s jealous that other guys droll while staring at her breasts. He’s angry that his friends won’t look her in the eyes. He feels guilty because he treats her like a trophy that no one can touch. He watches and flirts with so many other girls and it aggravates her, but she loves him – for some reason I can’t really figure out. He doubts that he’s good enough for her. And I doubt that he is too.
I look toward her. She’s screaming at him and her make up is running because she’s crying so hard. She tries to push him off me, but he just puts more weight on my head. I could move him if I wanted, but I want to see what she’s going to do.
She starts punching him. Her punches are clouded by emotion, so her years of tae kwon do are meaningless.
I try not to smile while she’s fighting for me.
He back hands her, and she falls to the ground.
He’s screaming at her.
I decide to end it.
In a single calculated movement, I push myself off the ground throwing him off balance. I swing my leg around into the back of his heel, throwing both of his legs into the air. His entire weight comes crashing down on his upper back and the wind gets knocked out of him. I stand above him and look down on him as the cloudy sky finally breaks and the rain falls down around me. He looks up at me in terror. His eyes widen as I kick him in the jaw; dislocating it, and knocking him unconscious.
She’s muddy, wet, and crying as she tries to pick herself off the ground. I help her up, knowing she will never accept an out stretched hand.
She doesn’t know who to cry for: Herself? Me? Him?\
I tell her, he’s not dead; only unconscious.
I can’t look her in the eyes, so I avert my gaze to where I was laying. My blood had pooled.
As I watched the water and blood flow on the sidewalk, I noticed my blood was forming lines … geometric shapes … a symbol … an occult symbol.
I space out looking at it as she tries to help her shitty boyfriend up, but I shake it off.
I kneel down to help her, and she looks at me.
Her sobbing has quieted, but she’s a mess.
I whip the mud and make up off her face, and try to push her hair out of her eyes. She’s confused, hurt, and very vulnerable.
I try to smile, as I tell her she looks better without make up.
She cracks a half smile, as I hoist her boyfriend onto her shoulders so she can take care of him.
I tell her I’m sorry that it happened, but I will be back to make sure he doesn’t hurt her when he wakes up.
I turn, and walk away into the rain.
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I snap out of my daydream in time to dodge out of the way of a black SUV.
The symbol that was on the side of the building was the same that was my puddle of blood formed into.
This week is going to suck.
Where am I? The light below me is shinning on something ... something flat and black. To my left vertical shafts of blackness pass by. Suddenly, I realize! I am driving, and i remember the lights coming toward me. Directly toward me! I panic. I turn the wheel sharply to the right, in an attempt to swerve around the on coming vehicle. As i do so, something tall and white flashes past me on the right. A person! Walking at this time of night? I quickly glance down at the time: 12:59. As i resume my watching of the road i realize only to late, that the lights are upon me. And pass.
As i watch the lights pass in my rear view mirror, I am lurched forward, at an alarming rate. I watch as my nose reaches forward to meet the dashboard, and i feel my shoulders scream as the rest of my body flies over my head and arms. I watch as my eyes go from, dashboard, to steering wheel, to the back of my seat, to the ceiling of the car. As my sweat filled palms slip from the wheel i quickly glimpse those dreaded eyes from someplace in the dark way off down the road behind the car.
I see this entire event, I feel this entire event, but only as if I was relating to it from someone telling me. As i come to terms with the idea that It is in fact me being thrown from this car, I also realize, in slow motion, that I am watching it as if from sitting on a branch of the tree I just hit.
I watch my body go limp on the crumpled hood of the car, blood spilling from a head wound. As I sit there, perched on my branch I see in the distance the tall, thin, boney structure of a humaniod walk foward through the darkness on the road. If it was a joggins suit the man wore it was a full body one, that covered his head. I watched petrified. The man stride seems slumped to one side, and he seems to be limping, in a sorts. If you could call it a body, it was bleach bone white, and the color covered his entire body. His chest was thin as if he had not eaten if months, and his stomach caved in. His skull ... his skull was odd ... something was different ... it wasn't human! The skull shape was not semi circular like humans, but a prolonged oval. his forhead took up most of it and the head looked ... as if it was stretched, like someone had compressed it in a vice when he, or that it, was a child ... if it was ever a child.
The creture stumbles along in the shadow of darkness along the road, and i wonder if i hit it in my anxiety. A bit of time passes while my eyes remain hypnotized to the creature ... or at the very least, it seems like a bit of time. Each stride it takes hurts my head ... or rather, my out of body head, since my body was unconscious on the car hood. It felt like every move the creature made, was wrong. For some reason it defied logic, it defied the world ... as if the creature were not ment to be alive. Each movement it made spent shivers down my spine, and it left like my brain had fallen to sleep.
Suddenly the spell is broken as the creature spets into the pool of red from the tail lights. The creature stops. Slowly the creatures head starts to rise. Fear grips me as the seconds pass like eons, and i start to shake uncontrolably. Whatever this creature is, it sends an unnatural inhuman instinctual terror ripping thought me. If my ghostly body could turn a color it would be as bone white as the creatuer I could not pull my eyes away from. My focus seems to zoom in on his until now hidden face. His head rises and his eyes are closed, but its mouth is in a smile. No lips, no skin, just a big toothy grin.
Suddenly his eyes flash open. Bright red. terror grips me as the sky line above the parking garage, flashes thought my mind. Horror grips me as I recall the eyes from the distance behind my car. As i get tunnel vision, my brain turns off, and my etheral body slumps, and falls from the branch i was perched on. I watch the forest fall upward, and then dakrness consumes me as i look off into the woods my head resting on the car hood.
Edit: Title, Renamed: "The Road"
But where? There's no place to run. I've arrived at the top of the parking garage. There is no place left to run. It will get me! All these thoughts burn in my skull in rapid succession, as my veins fill with searing adrenaline.
Through the darkness the sky lights up as lightning strikes someplace past the city limits.
EYES! Eyes in the darkness! As the bolt of lightning rips the fabric of air asunder, the sky displays burning red eyes, but only for an instant. As soon as the lightning had come and gone so had those terrifying eyes of hopeless doom! Oh, so this shall be my end all merciful god!? Fighting for survival on the top of a parking garage form, yet one more of your failed creations!? How hope and faith abandon us, just as you do, in our time of dire need? Where are you almighty? Or are you he? The one that comes for my flesh and soul? The ones that drills suck horrors into my mind?
In darkness we shall find truth. It was written in blood on my apartment wall; that was when it all started ... three days ago.
As I fall to my knees atop the empty dark parking garage that will make my grave, I search my mind to remember the events that have led me here. To this moment; to this place; to my death.
My knees hit the pavement in slow motion, but the pain of all my weight grinding them into the pavement tears through my body and instinctively I throw my head back and scream into the darkness. I scream the only question that humans can never anwser, the one question that has plagued every single soul, through all time. WHY!?
As thunder rolls in the distance, the rain picks up and falls like a curtain on my life. My head slumps down, my chin in my chest, as the rain drips from my nose, and rivers congeal and blur my vision.
Half heartedly I wipe the now, salty rain water from my eyes and look down into the puddle I am now kneeling in. Like a hammer to the back of your head, my body goes numb and my mind becomes fuzzy. Things start to blur together as the world comes rushing to meet me. Then blackness.
As i fall through the blackness, specs of light rush past me. Stars? Is this death? Was I afraid of this?
I start to feel the spralling space of this place I am falling through, but as I start to come to terms with my new prediement, I realize that I am falling toward a light. Surely this is the mythical bright light of death that society fortells.
Edit: Renamed: "The Parking Garage"
The twinkle had faded from his eye, his voice was rouge and dry. When he spoke, if he spoke - the words were simple and carried no meaning. It felt like the bleached skeleton of communication.
He sat there as if waiting for time to end. He was as a shell on the beach, waiting for someone - anyone to come and pick him up.
She could do nothing but look into his eyes. But she could not even do that, for his eyes held no depth anymore. There was no resentment toward her, no hatred, no understanding, no emotion, creativity, imagination, ... nothing.
She shivered as she looked at what he had become. She could not fathom how she had done this to him. She stood there a beacon of warmth and light with her arm around him. She felt her mans strong arms around her, the warmth he held, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She remembered how he had felt. How she could feel warm just by the words he said, by his precises fingertips. How much control he had once had. How he could break or make reality around them with words or thoughts alone.
Did she do this? Could is possibly be that she shattered the very being, the soul, the mind, and hope of this great boy. He was so innocent, and yet so learned. He knew things that no one knew. He taught her how to unlock secrets about herself that she could only imagine. But, she had ignored him. The words he had used had fallen on deaf ears. His touch on a paralyzed mind. For everything he had taught her he had never taught her what ambition was. Where creativity and energy came from. He had not told her to pause and look around her.
He had failed ... or had he ...
Was it that he never taught her these thing, or was it that she never learned them. That she couldn't grasp how deeply he felt about her. How she was his light, hope, ambition, and reason for doing what he did.
As her knees started swaying he looked up at her, and suddenly his eyes were no longer shallow. She caught his gaze and like a bug to a summer evening zapper, she was electicuted with everything he had never told her.
How he had rolled with the laughs his whole life, but swallowed the barrel of a 44mm once.
How he was haunted by the twin he never knew.
How everything he was, was shunned by those that couldn't grasp his genious.
How life had dealt his a cruel hand, but he had played it off as a whimsical joke and nothing more.
How he had stayed up at night and wondered what she was dreaming about.
How her smile and the smell of her hair was the only thing that could make him smile.
How many times he had broken glass and held it to his skin, wishing that if maybe he was gone, then she would have a great life.
How he loved her so, and she only thought of him, as an interesting friend, and nothing more.
So many memories. So much pain. Even things that could not possibly have happened to him he felt. Things that were thousands of years before him he felt dire empathy for and held onto, so no one else could. He held the screams and pain of a million jews during the halocuast. He held the pain of ripped flesh from slaves of every nation, and generation. In his mind he held the pain of the human race, the suffering caused by humans toward humans - and even then it was not deep enough. He held pain for the world around him. The ripping and shredding of bark and wood from trees older than history itself. He held everything so deep and chaotic - he was the keeper of pain so no one else had to suffer. He was a pandora's box of emotion and unrivaled sufferage. And yet ... all those years that he himself had suffered, he kept a smile and good humor.
How was it then - that she would hurt someone that was so strong willed?
Was she really the executioner for the one person that harbored the sins of an entire races history?
She fel to the floor and covered her eyes with he hands. She could not closer her eyes for when the dark took over she felt and saw the images of everything he had kept hidden inside. She was shivering and sweating, crying and drooling ... WHAT WAS HE? And what have i done to him?
She looked up at his once caring face for forgiveness and redemption, but all that met her gaze was the crippily hopeless stone face of the man whose being she had shattered.
Suddenly as she stared at him - mouth open as if to scream. A flash over color crossed over his face as if a wave had slipped over the sand; and he winked, a bright blue eye.
As quickly as the memories had flooded into her mind they were gone. A wide hole of emotion ripped from her mind.
A slight smile curled on the corners of his mouth and he turned back to his dark corner as she continued to stare unbelieveing of what had occured.
had she just witnessed the devil? Or a shattered guardian angel of the human race, being reborn? Whatever had happened, she never saw him again. And every night, as she lay there staring off into space he crossed her mind, and she would swear she heard, "I will always love you," in the mindless quiet of the night.
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