Silence

A Story by Ashley Blair

A good sailor might say that the sea breeze is a kiss from a beckoning siren. A captain would tell you it is the breath of demons before a storm.

A ship named Persephone sailed listlessly through the fog covered sea, drifting in and out of the clouds like they were a daydream. From far away, that battered and beaten ship might even look at peace. Like she had stared the devil himself in the face and lived to tell her tale. But she was just a ghost. An echo of the great expectations everyone on board had hoped would come true. Too often when a spirit is restless, they grow irrational. Never bothering to explain their own tragedy. You just hear their pain, their moans and groans. And this is exactly what Persephone did. The crew all sat in silence, fearing that if they broke it a raging monster might be released upon them. Whether they feared an earthly creature lurking underneath, or themselves, I do not know. But that heavy, oppressive spirit had settled over them, and it was there to stay. It wrapped itself around each of their necks, making the words that were rising up their throats stay behind pressed lips. The words that all of them were afraid to say, but everyone knew.

"We're never going home."

And then, the cries of that melancholy ship turned into the cackle of something sinister. The glassy eyes of the shipmates had become dilated with fear, a cold shiver running down their spines, awakening their numb bones. A young boy of only 17 jumped up suddenly, his eyes darting around the swaying cabin. "I should..." he tested his own ability to speak, and with new found confidence, pushed his way through the rest. "I should check on the Captain, and see if he's okay. He hasn't been down here for two days." A wave of unexpected hysterical laughter rushed over all his shipmates. The floodgates had been opened. So many emotions had been pent up inside their battered bodies for too long, and the one that chose to surface was one of happiness. Or, perhaps, madness. He stared desperately at them, looking for answers in their burst of merriment. He was 17 but he was still so naive. And, dear reader, it is probably best that he was. A stout man with a raspy voice spoke up and wiped his pale blue eyes of tears from laughing too hard. "You know another storm's comin, we all do. The Captain sure as yer father's beard knows. We're dyin, lad. You came into this world kickin n' screamin, and you were dyin even them. But this time the sea won't be as kind. We might as well fill ourselves before our lungs are filled too." He gestured with his hand over to the crates filled with liquor. "No" The boy said firmly. "I promised my mother I wouldn't." The man opened his mouth, but closed it, respecting the boy. But then he said something he immediately regretted, because it seemed to seal the fate of every last one of them. "It's good for a boy to die honoring his mother's wishes." The boy began to weep, causing all of the other men to think about the lives they would never see again. The people they loved. The people they would lose. A chorus of sobs broke out from the toughest of them, and they accepted it. They threw away the idea of staying strong, because they had already put up that veneer the last time they thought they were going to meet their maker. It dissolved, so bittersweet, like snow, and they cried. All of them. Men of all ages held each other, telling each other everything would be okay soon. They crashed down from their brief ecstasy and felt their despair with their whole being. Emotions only the dying can know. They didn't care if the Captain could hear them. And oh, he did.

Up on the deck the ocean whipped mercilessly against the Captain's face, making it turn red and raw. But he didn't feel it. Everything in him had been made numb so long ago. The only thing he felt with such clarity was rage. It began to slowly burn in his soul, and now he was turning into an inferno. His ashen face was emotionless, but something a flicker of something evil danced behind his eyes. If only the crew had known what he had bargained for. Oh, how he had longed to tell someone.

He promised to surrender his crew and himself to the next storm, if only God would let them make it out alive last time. He wished he had let the ship go down and be buried by the sea the first time. But it was too late, much too late, for that. His eyes searched madly through the fog, looking for... aha! The perfect wave. He steered in it's direction, and let go of the wheel, proud of his work. The waves grew violent, like a menacing beast waiting for its prey. And then, in one small, fleeting moment, a spark of humanity coursed through him, and a single tear fell down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he cried "I'm so sorry!"

And then,

There was silence.