Day 68 Writing Short Stories

Waters

The pitch-dark sea rocked beneath the ship. The cold seeped in over the railings, sending shivers down my back. I licked my lips and tore my eyes off the darkness, knowing that a tug would send me down into the cold.

I tied my long wool jacket tighter around me, sealing it with my arms.

The ship kept pushing deeper into the unknown waters, swallowed by the starless night. The captain had assured me he knew the waters. I had to put my trust in him. I hated trusting other people. My gods never intended me to have a trusting nature. Suspicious, yes. Wary, yes. But not trusting. That was left for those who did not know the darkness living in this world.

The men keeping the ship going could feel the darkness, could feel that we were closing in on it. Their resentment towards me seeped out of them like a thick cloth that was to suffocate me. I didn’t care. That was their emotion, and not mine. And as long as they would take my money and obey, I had no reason to stifle their emotions.

I listened to the ship pierce the water. The gentle sound in the stillness of the sea might transport one out of the night into a lulled moment of peace. But I knew peace wasn’t waiting for us. The book in my pocket pressed against my hip, reminding me of what needed to be done.

The captain shouted his commands, ordering the ship to a halt. The men ran to their positions, working the ship as if it were a simple beast to be controlled. The strength of thirty men stopped it from dropping to the eye of the sea.

The captain came down from the helm, and the men gathered on the deck, all watching me as I took my path to the bow. The still waters had turned restless. The maelstrom tugged at the ship, making the sailors gasp with every jerk, every current that would tear the ship into the depths.

I took my book out, letting it fall open in the middle. I prepared myself to send myself and the men with me into Hell if necessary. I hoped it didn’t have to come to that, but the darkness had to be kept away, and sacrifices had to be made. Such was the price of the Dark Lord, of the gods.

I lifted my hands in the air, quoting the book from memory. The sacred book made the maelstrom shoot into the air. The sailors behind me rushed to release the ship, but their captain shouted at them to stay put. The men trembled in their places, strengthening the waters with their fear. That was to be expected. But I trusted my words. They had the power of a thousand souls. Souls I had devoured to become what I am: the savior, condemned in Hell when my time came. No good deed would save me. Not even stopping the darkness from taking over this world.

I shouted my words over the screams of the men and the roar of the water. And when I hit the crescendo, the water came down, splashing its cold, wet tongue against my face before it soothed into stillness, the natural order dictated.

I turned around and saw the terror in the sailors’ faces.

“It’s done, and you will have your gold, and I will have my silence.” I walked past them, and they parted their ways from me, spitting over their shoulders, knowing no good would come from having a woman on board.

—

I’m not sure if I filled the assignment: conversational mystery of voyage-and-return done from a first-person perspective, but I don’t mind. This was what lurked beneath my consciousness and wanted to be written. I’m happy it came out, as I had fun writing this and figuring out the right words and scenes. I know I didn’t get the conversational aspect into the story, and perhaps the other aspects aren’t there either, but sod it. Fun is fun, and that is all that matters.

Thank you for reading! Have a dark, mysterious day ❤