A Coward's Fate

The stowaway made quite the effort to keep his cool, seemingly petrified from the events that unfolded. He not dare to make his whereabouts known to that, to that..thing. The blood curdling screams moistened his skin, soaking through the pits of his ragged shirt. It was eerily silent, keenly aromatic, and obscenely serene. Why must such traumatic events leave tranquility in their wake? The moments have passed and formed into minutes, and from minutes into hours. Still, the stowaway remained isolated underneath the lower cabin storage quarters. This ship was nothing to gawk at. If the average armada ship were to equal the same force and size of a Megalodon, the Sandrino was a minnow; the weakest of preys. However, this ship had a gleaming charm to it. It not need to be the most grandiose of vessels, but the stowaway, in this very moment wouldn't be in agreement. His bones yearned to be released-his muscles constricted into cramps. This space he so dastardly took shelter in is betraying him. His mind raced plentiful thoughts, but his body did not reciprocate to any of them. At last, he moved, but the pain was too severe to inch any further. So, there he lays with a body and mind aware of his cowardice, preventing his survival. The hours, from his perspective, ran long distances, ticking and tocking away like footsteps. For this, he grew quite fond of time, as it could move around the clock. At this point, he was unsure what day it was, where the nearest land lay, or in what direction the Sandrino was sailing. The blood dripping from the floorboards reached his brow, and as he cautiously wiped away the smear, he faintly hears, " You there, the coward and his anxious shadow", cried from the surface by a gruff, raspy voice. The stowaway struggled to find his voice. "My stomach shall surely purge itself if you do not head my call", replied the mystery figure yet again. "Yyyyyess, hello? Help me, oh Gggod help me", the stowaway so desperately pleaded. The silence of seconds this time struck a more noxious cord. Vomit rained from above, piercing the stowaway's shadow, camouflaging its comfort. Naturally, the coward fled his doomed corner of greed and pursued yet another dwelling, terrified. He darted across the room of the lower cabin, gleaning about arduously for an escape. "Fwwwiiiip". The stowaway's Achilles tendon snapped, flinching him backwards. Wood. It's an essential building material for a ship, something so ubiquitous for its construction. However, the floor boards are tainted with the vomit of its perpetrator and the blood of its kinsman. Motion. It mediates the blood to strip away from the flesh. The sword is quite educated in this as well, spilling the life from those who wield it. The waves are fond of motion, allowing it to carry the burdens of others to depressing states. The stowaway's feet departed with a soft kiss, saying their final goodbyes to the wooden floorboards of the crafty Sandrino and falling victim to its motion. "crrriickk". The stowaway lied motionless, almost pitiful. The Sandrino kept sailing on, however, grinning.

Reviews

[Michelle Saldana]

Whoa, major Allen Poe vibes here. You did a great job of giving that gnawing feeling of unease. I could practically feel the dread from the stowaway.

I was a tad bit confused about the "mystery figure." Is that a ghost or just a figment of the stowaway's imagination.. orrr what? lol

A bit of feedback: I'd recommend breaking up some of those super long sentences. It'll make things flow better and be easier to read.

Overall, it's a pretty solid piece. With a few tweaks, you've got something that could totally creep out a bunch of readers. Keep it up!

[Bobisnotmyuncle]

Thank you very much for taking the time to review! The ,"Mystery figure", I called it as that because I didn't want to put too much emphasis on whatever it may be. I guess I envisioned it as a spectral like, brolic pirate. As for your feedback, I will work on shortening my sentences. Thank you for that.