Nervous Wreck

Newly employed in a warehouse security role, Billy finds himself embroiled in a maritime mystery that echoes his own occasional nightmares...

However attractive a small modern university city may at first appear, its outskirts are likely to be dominated by tracts of drab industrial buildings. Factories, workshops and storage facilities that might appear uninspiring during the week become downright depressing on a wet Saturday night. It had been raining all afternoon and although now late evening there is no sign of it stopping. Streetlamps that reflect in wet roads between the shuttered factories also illuminate two solitary figures. One walks briskly with a purpose, the other, a slight, smaller, figure trails behind, his shoulders hunched and his jacket hood up.

The pair approach a sprawl of brick buildings identified by a large sign as the research department of the nearby university. They enter the compound and walk around a white painted see-saw security barrier. As they near the grimy windows of a dimly lit cabin a man in a baseball cap slides a glass panel open and leans out chuckling, "Wet enough for you Des?"

Desmond, the older of the approaching pair never fails to be irritated by being asked this stupid question every time it rains, but he's known Maxie a long time and pretends to take it in good part. "Just don't mention your bloody garden," he grumbles in reply.

Maxie grins and hands out a wire loop with about two dozen keys threaded onto it. He squints through the rain at the second man and asks, "And who’s this?"

"Billy. My sister's boy. He’s off college at the moment and the research office said I could bring him in as extra help while they do this boat thing." Desmond explains.

Maxie nods and riffles through some papers on a clipboard, "Yeah, I think I got it here somewhere that you’d be bringing someone." Billy looks up from under his hood, his pale slack-jawed expression and vacant green eyes convey monumental disinterest.

"Extra security." Says Desmond.

"Well good luck with that…" smiles Maxie as he scribbles something into his paperwork. "Watch for the puddles," he shouts after the pair as they walk off into the rain. Maxie admires Desmond’s attempts to help Billy but like most who know the boy, Maxie thinks it a lost cause. Billy only just managed to scrape through school and is 'off college' so often that the staff haven't seen the need to actually boot him out. The boy lopes along and although of less than average height has the gangling figure of a taller man, his narrow head and sloping shoulders have led to his being known throughout the neighbourhood as 'Billy Bottleneck'. Without really intending to be cruel most people thoughtlessly call him 'Bottleneck' and, equally thoughtlessly, he accepts it.

The two trudge between large anonymous looking buildings. This scruffy out-of-town university annexe is occasionally used as a base for large-scale research projects but more often is just storage. Billy scowls through the pelting rain at the industrial buildings, "Doesn't look much like a university."

"And how would you know?" the words sting, Billy is all too aware of being a long-running disappointment and scowls back at his uncle.

Desmond regrets the implication and adds in a kinder tone, "It's that one there. We'll soon be in outta this rain."

Once inside, Desmond leads the way to a corner lined by a dozen metal lockers. Both shuck their waterproofs and drape them to drip over the oddments of scuffed and scratched furniture. Desmond gets a security guard uniform jacket out of one of the lockers, he is already wearing the matching trousers and he tries to straighten out the various creases. "Sorry, no uniform for you Billy." He says turning, but Billy isn't there. Desmond sighs and walks through into the dark main hall. Standing in the spill light from the little staff room, Billy stands staring at a poster taped to the wall. It is headlined, The Department of Marine Archaeology presents a history of wooden boats, featuring a reconstruction of the newly discovered wreck, 'The Bold Mary'.

"That’s not the finished poster. They don’t have any dates yet, I don't think they know how long it's going to take to rebuild," comments Desmond.

Billy is transfixed by the nautical etching reproduced on the poster says, "I know this boat, Des."

"Its probably been on TV or something. The university wants it to be a big deal."

"No. Not TV. I’ve been aboard. I walked about."

"You’re getting mixed up Billy... this boat is in pieces" Desmond reaches out to some wall switches and snaps several. Light floods the main hall and shows it to be filled with wooden crates, some open and showing worm-eaten wooden planks but most stacked on top of each other in great piles that stretch back into the warehouse. Desmond is proud of this packing case landscape, "Raiders of the lost ark, or what?" When Billy doesn't answer Desmond indicates the poster, "That boat…" he says emphatically before pointing at the mountains of crates, "is this boat. You can't have been on it because it's all here, a whole boat, in pieces, packed into boxes."

Billy walks toward the packing crates staring upward, looming above him is the partly reassembled wooden figurehead of a small boat. It has been crudely carved into the awkwardly posed figure of a large breasted woman. Her broad, homely face is dominated by a huge mischievous grin and painted goggle-eyes. Billy murmurs in recognition, “Bold Mary”. Then to Desmond, he says, "I know her. I wouldn't have forgotten. I have been on this boat. Walked on it, top deck, bottom decks, the whole thing."

Desmond's patience is wearing thin, "It sank over a hundred years ago and thousands of miles away. You must've been dreaming."

Billy smiles at the solution to the puzzle, "I did! That's right! I dreamed about it. I have been on that boat in a dream."

"Well, you won't be doing any dreaming tonight because you ain't going to sleep."

"I dreamed it more than once Des," Billy nods at the figurehead, "and it being here is really weird."

His uncle isn’t an imaginative man and has little time for those that are, 'It's not even a boat anymore. Just a load of rotting timber that they dredged up from somewhere where the Bahamas aren’t too deep."

An uncharacteristic glitter momentarily lights Billy’s eyes, "None of the water there is too deep, Des, 'Bahamas' comes from the Spanish for shallow..."

Desmond is annoyed by this unexpected insight but ignores it. "It's DESMOND. I'm not just one of the guys, I'm your uncle so it's UNCLE Desmond... got that Billy? Got that?" But Billy isn't listening. He has fished his mobile phone from a pocket and is furiously texting. "Are you listening to me?" demands Desmond. Billy nods absently while hitting letter keys. "Billy!" The texting stops and the boy looks up sheepishly. His uncle holds out his hand for the mobile, "You're not paying attention if you're playing on that thing." Billy hands over the phone, Desmond turns it off and puts it in his pocket. "You'll get it back in the morning."

"What? How am I gonna stay in touch?" Billy asks dismayed.

Desmond returns to one of the lockers and then somewhat triumphantly produces a pair of radio walkie-talkies and offers one to Billy. "Radio. That's how you'll stay in touch. You talkie while I walkie." Billy looks scornfully at the retro radio. Desmond, still looking pleased with himself, says, "Good. Right, well I'll be leaving you then."

"What?" Billy is now even more dismayed.

"You stay here. I got my round, I look into all the other buildings," he jangles the keys, "I check all the entrance doors, the exits and sometimes the windows. I stop for a coffee, sit for a while with yesterdays paper, take a leak, then back here. That's my four-hour circuit."

"Four hours? It takes four hours?"

Desmond is smiling broadly now "As long as I don't rush it, it does."

"Well I don't wanna stay here on my own and I didn't know I would have too," he turns to the figurehead, "and I didn't know that was gonna be here."

Desmond enjoying Billy’s discomfort, "Your Mum said you'd try and wriggle out of doing anything that might look like work. There's nothing to be scared of."

"I'm not wriggling and I'm not scared. Just… well, I just didn't think I'd be left in charge of anything right off."

"Don't kid yourself," the older man replies sharply, "you're not in charge of anything! You stay with the crates while I do my rounds. What did you think, we'd spend all night waltzing about holding hands?”

Billy looks around and asks doubtfully, "What if there’s an emergency? I've got no phone."

"Use the walkie-talkie, that's all your gonna need because there isn't gonna be an emergency."

"But what if there is?"

"If I was expecting an emergency I'd got them to hire an experienced man." Desmond pauses, then adds more kindly, "Nothing happens on my shift Billy - I don't allow it."

"Yeah. But what about…" Billy scowls trying to think of a suitable disaster, "a fire?"

"Are you gonna set light to the place?" Desmond asks and gets a sulky head shake as a response. "Then there ain't gonna be a fire coz there’s no one else here." Billy’s sloping shoulders slump further. Desmond goes on, "You cause a 'call-out' on my shift and your first night will be your last. If the roof falls in and someone has to call an emergency it'll be me... and even then very reluctantly." The older man moves off toward the exit, "You're only responsible for this one room, all you gotta do is stay here. I will regret helping you if you call in a false alarm or if there’s a security check and you can’t be found. On no account do you leave. Got that?"

"Yeah." Billy's voice lacks any enthusiasm.

Desmond says more kindly, "Look, I’ll tell you, on this kinda job, and this may sound kinda silly, but sometimes it’s good to shout."

"Shout what?"

"Anything. I sometimes shouted that I was the scariest thing anyone could wish to meet." Billy gives him a doubtful look, both burst into simultaneous laughter, "Hey, it made me feel better."

Grinning broadly Desmond heads for the door, then shouts back over his shoulder, "If you want, you can call me on the radio. But don't overdo it, I'm not here to spend all night keeping you company."

Desmond turns to leave, Billy smile fades as he whispers determinedly, "I won’t let you down."

Desmond chuckles, then from an outer corridor, "You're damn right, you won't."

Adopting an expression of grim efficiency Billy ambles aimlessly through the avenues of packing cases. He tries sitting in a not very comfortable canvas-backed chair but gets fidgety and has to get up and walk some more. When after about the fourth time of slumping dejectedly into the chair, he looks carefully around then declares out loud, "I don't know which is worse, walking or sitting…" he looks around as if half expecting a reply, when there is none he sighs and hangs his head. For the first time, he notices that the floor around his feet looks different. Experimentally he lifts first one foot then the other, the surface of the floor is being covered by a shallow grey mist. Billy leaps up, "What is this s**t…?" He starts to walk again but the mist swirls deeper and denser.

Billy looks longingly toward the door by which Desmond left, he takes the radio from his pocket, then after a thoughtful pause replaces it. He treads carefully through the deepening mist worrying about what to do. He stops and looks questioningly up at the grinning figurehead, then as if in answer the wood of the buxom figure creaks loudly. Billy’s face creases in panic, he lifts the radio and flicks it on.

"Uncle Desmond. Uncle Desmond. Are you there…?"

A tinny far away sounding voice replies, "This is two-four."

Billy is confused, "Huh…?"

"This is two-four… I am two-four, Billy. You are one-five… There's no point having a system if we don't use it, now start again."

Billy tries to explain, "But there's…"

His uncle is adamant, "Start again one-five, this is two-four out…"

Billy rolls his eyes in despair and frustration, he’s now standing waist deep in thickening mist. "Christ!" He very deliberately turns the radio off, then back on, "Okay. This is one-five. One-five to two-four come in PLEASE!"

"Yes, this is two-four. What exactly do you now consider a problem?" Desmond asks with professional calm.

"Fog…" Billy blurts.

The radio goes silent for a moment and then, "Say again."

Through gritted teeth, Billy gabbles, "Fog for chrissakes. The misty sorta stuff, you know?"

"Slowly please one-five. I don't understand, over."

Fighting to sound reasonable Billy slowly enunciates, "Nor do I. The place is filling with… swirly fog, smoke. Whatever. But I know it shouldn't be here."

"OhhhKaay," Desmond growls doubtfully. "Can you smell anything…?"

"What?" Billy snaps.

Desmond explains, "Burning. You said it looked like smoke can you smell burning?"

"No," emphatically.

"It's probably just scotch mist…"

Billy already senses that this is going nowhere but asks, "Which is?"

"It's what some people see when they start feeling lonely. Look, I know it's not nice on your own, but you gotta try and cope."

"I am coping. The place is filling with mist… fog. Whatever…" Billy shrugs, almost at the point of not caring.

His uncle asks, "Is it doing any damage?"

Billy is defensive and sulky, "I dunno. I can’t see anything… are you coming back?

A pause then Desmond"s voice crackles over the radio, "I told you, four hours. I got my routine Billy. We've got smoke detectors, fire alarms, all kinds of temperature monitoring and since there is no klaxon sounding so I'm not about to come running." Billy stares at the radio saying nothing, after another pause Desmond asks, "you still there?"

"Yeah..."

Desmond sighs loudly, "If you're that worried I'll try and speed things up. Can you just sit tight and wait for me."

"What about the fog?"

"If it’s still there when I arrive I’ll check it out. Okay?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Right. Just stay there and I’ll see you as soon as I can make it..."

Billy recovers some enthusiasm, "Yeah. Thanks. Uncle. Two four... over."

Desmond authoritatively, "Over and out Billy."

Billy scowls around and absently lowers the radio toward his pocket. Suddenly the air is split by a painful squeal of tortured wood and a rolling growl which builds to finish in a loud thunder-like BOOM! Billy jumps dramatically and drops the radio which smashes onto the floor beneath the mist.

"Oh great…" Billy mutters as he stoops to fumble blindly through the mist, unable to see the floor properly he waves the mist away till he finds the radio. It’s loose insides rattle, he puts it to his ear, turning it on and off. Billy hears nothing from the radio but does just catch a low drifting whistle. He squints into the mist, he plainly hears whistling, someone is nearby. Billy’s mouth sets in a grim grin, almost relieved that his tormentors have shown their hand. "Okay, guys. I guess you’re playing 'scare-the-newbie'". He holds up the defunct walkie-talkie, "well you have scared me and now this thing is very broken…" There is no reply. Just slow mournful whistling, Billy recognises the tune, 'What shall we do with the drunken sailor'. He pockets the radio.

Billy confidence is ebbing, "Look, I've had it with this. Come out, have a laugh and get it over… Say something. I know you're there I can hear you for Chrissakes…"

The only answer is another loud crack of thunder, this time followed by a searing flash of lightning. The momentary brightness shows the mist to be so thick that Billy can no longer be sure of his bearings. He stalls a moment, glaring at the foggy gloom before stalking determinedly toward what he has decided must be an exit, but he finds only a wall of packing cases. Billy turns in another direction but soon realises that he simply walking through one narrow ally-way of wooden crates after another. Common sense tells him that he's still in the same room but he seems unable to reach either the edge of the wooden crate labyrinth or an exit.

The mist swirls around as Billy fights down panic and almost jogs between rows of boxes stacked floor to ceiling. The breathy whistling of the ‘drunken sailor' rises and falls as if carried on a distant breeze. Although now knowing that he walks without purpose Billy strides between the crates while muttering inaudibly to himself. Slowly defiance turns to confidence and his voice rises, "I am the scariest thing… I am the scariest thing… I am the scariest thing…" his eyes seem to come alive as he finishes the sentence, "you could ever meet". Billy stops walking, lifts his arms and shouts upward, "I haunt the darkest corner of your worst possible nightmare. "I am… the vengeful creature that lurks in the deep, dark reaches of the distant past". Now almost screaming, "I am the ageless evil. I am Beelzebub's messenger from hell! Behold, I am Bottleneck!"

Billy is exhilarated by this new found grittiness. His face shines with excitement, it is a pivotal moment. His veins course with vibrant energy, and he likes it! Newly emboldened he sweeps carelessly along the avenues until he is alerted by the sound of a bell, a ship's bell, it clangs twice as if for a watch change. Billy stops, he is listening intently, the bell clangs twice more. Billy grins, he knows the bell is nearby, he leaps around a pile of crates and comes almost nose to nose with a grizzled old man. Billy and the poorly dressed seaman face each other for a shocked second then each springs backwards. The seaman sways as if standing on an unsteady deck, raked by a swinging yellowish light, he lifts a boney hand and points at Billy, "Stowaway," he accuses.

Billy's newfound inner glow fades into crafty curiosity, "How'd you get in here?"

"Stowaway!" the old man repeats.

"How the devil did you get in?" Billy almost growls.

The old man lurches forward still waving an accusative finger. "Ahhh, the devil…"

The boy takes a step away, "Get back!"

"Back? Yes, you're back." The seaman points toward his own eyes and confides as if in secrecy, "I can see ye…"

"I don't like jokes and I don't like seniors. I don’t know what Desmond has told you but much more of this he can stick the job…"

The old seaman pauses to make sense of the words, then lifts his hands and his eyes heavenward, "Oh Lord, what great wrong have I, your servant, done that this should still be wrought upon me?"

"Hey, I’m the one being wrought upon, mister"

"Captain! Captain Ogdon Kail. Master o' this vessel and demon or no you'll speak civil." Kail fixes Billy with a malevolent stare, the boy glares grimly back. With a disparaging flip of his hand the old man turns away, "I care not to spend time with ye," and walks off into the mist.

"I care not… also…" Billy defiantly shouts after him. Alone again he takes the walkie-talkie out of his pocket, he shakes it, the radio rattles and plainly isn't working, regardlessly Billy speaks in a forlorn hope, "Uncle, uncle, uncle. Come in please," he pauses then tries, "Two-four, two-four…?" Billy screws his face up in frustration, then flings the useless radio into the mist - a faint splash is heard, Billy stares after it wide-eyed.

A girl's voice cuts through the fog, "What did you expect?"

Billy whirls around. Behind him is a girl maybe in her twenties, attractive, with shoulder length dark hair and dark lustrous skin. Her light blue dress is simple enough to appear stylish. Like the Captain, she sways as if on an unsteady floor slowly in and out of soft shadow. An utterly perplexed Billy struggles to find something to say.

The girl smiles, "Do not be afraid."

Billy smirks and looks left then right, then, "I am actually just confused."

She nods, "I'm here to help."

He smiles wryly, "To help scare the s**t outta me?"

The girl's face is bright with sincerity, "Not to scare, to help you." Billy nods slowly as if this explains everything. She studies him a moment then says, "I am called Melissa."

He grins awkwardly, "Billy… that's what I’m called… well, mostly." His face clouds, "the old guy, I take it he is not here to help?"

Melissa shakes her head sadly, "He worries. It's his boat."

Billy brightens immediately, "Well why didn't he say?" Billy gestures toward the mist-shrouded packing crates, "it's all safe…"

She glances at the boxes then back at Billy, "No, to Kail the Bold Mary is still a lively, solid vessel ploughing the waves…"

"Resident nutty Professor?"

"He's the Captain…" she replies with finality.

Billy has no idea what this attractive girl is doing in the warehouse but is beginning to enjoy her company, he nods sagely "You tell him his boat is secure, and that I'll be here with it all night and that nothing will make me leave my post. And I'm sorry I thought him a jerk."

Melissa weighs her words, then, "He WAS the captain… when the Mary sank, he was the captain. Both he and I were drowned."

Billy is triumphant, he has spotted the flaw in her argument, "Ahh now there, you see… that would make you dead."

"We are. Both of us… dead."

Billy smiles, he'll go along with the joke, "So, I'm being haunted?"

"Not you. The boat. When they brought here, they brought us with it."

He looks toward a wall of crates, "The boat is haunted? A ghost ship?"

Melissa shakes her head, "Not a ghost ship, it has substance. The captain and I do not…"

Billy is still amused, he asks, "Do ghosts know they're ghosts? Do they talk about ghosts? I don't think so…" he suddenly puts out a hand and grips Melissa's upper arm, she shudders. He is pleased with himself, "skin, flesh, you are a live person."

She pulls away from his grip, "You're fingers touch a living flesh because that is what you expected, what you wanted," Billy tilts his head, puzzled, she goes on, "the captain asked my father for help. My father is our village wise man, shaman, lifter of curses and cleanser of spirits…"

Billy cuts in, "A dealer of the tarot, and talker to the bones…" he wiggles his fingers theatrically, "voodoo."

"You would know of such things…"

Billy nods vigorously, "Late night TV," the words mean nothing to Melissa, Billy asks, "did your father help the captain…?

"Yes. He sent me…"

"But then you were drowned," as Melissa nods the floor tilts violently, while Billy is keeping his balance, Melisa steps back into the mist. He calls after her, "Melissa? Melissa?" he asks loudly, "what is all this? A dream? Hallucination? Is it all in my head?"

A weak yellowish swinging light heralds the reappearance of Captain Kail. He shouts at Billy, "Arrogant brat! You imagine thy poor brain could conjure the like of Captain Kail."

"I am doing my best not too."

Kail thrusts his face forward, "Get off my boat."

Billy stands his ground, "Get outta my head."

"Thou'st speak strange, brat boy."

The boy adopts a malicious grin, "Wait till the boat sinks bozo."

"About to abandon the sinking ship are ye?" the old captain asks gleefully.

"I am not going anywhere. It's my job on the line…"

Kail pauses a moment, thinking, "A job on the line? You're a fisherman?

Billy shakes his head, "Oh, smart ole guy," then very firmly, "listen, you should not be in here."

"You listen… to the sea." Kail leans toward Billy, "there's the only truth on this blighted globe."

Billy can indeed hear the sound of the sea slopping against the side of a boat, he feels the dampness of soft salt spray that is plastering down his hair. Fear is again rising and he shouts angrily at Kail, "Get the hell away from me."

"No profanity! I'll have no one cursing a blue streak on my boat."

"Fucksake man, you ain't heard nothing yet."

"Stow that! Before I see your benighted carcass dropped over the side…"

"You can’t do that…" Billy is subtlely shifting his weight from side to side to maintain his balance, a flash of lightning shows the floor beneath his feet to be a deck, wood creaks and the wind is picking up.

"Melissa, I thought you were helping me… Can he do that? Can he?"

Melissa speaks from the wreaths of mist, "He can if you believe he can."

Billy's face is set, grimly determined, "Well, I don't."

Melissa steps forward, "Do you swim?"

"Actually not too well."

"Then you’ll drown."

Despite having to shout above the now howling wind Billy clings to the rational, "Impossible. This is a solid building, on dry land…" As if in answer the floor lurches and Billy staggers.

"You're on a boat," Melissa states.

"Alright, I'm on a boat. But why?"

"The Bold Mary will be sunk because of you - it can be saved but only by you."

"I thought YOU were the help?"

"I can only advise... you should tell Kail to turn back."

"Common sense should tell him that."

"No. He believes his boat is cursed..."

"And I'm sure he's right."

"He believes that the vessel is haunted by a demon. A creature only visible when he is at sea."

"And where is this creature now?" Billy asks sceptically.

Melissa waves a finger at him, "Right here. You. You are the demon. What else can you be, the captain sees a ghostly figure that glides across the deck cursing and speaking in tongues."

"That’s a dream. Tell him. It's my dream. Sometimes I dream I am here but I don’t know how he sees me."

"Your dream is his nightmare. You have said that you are the demon called Bottleneck."

"Yeah… maybe… does it matter?”

She nods, "Yes. It'll get you drowned. Kail won't go back home with a spectre on board. You have confirmed your presence and he has sworn to sink his boat and you with it."

Billy's grip on his world is slipping. The Bold Mary is becoming his new reality. Kail barks through the mist, "Afraid to die, brat boy?"

Billy shouts commanding reply, "Turn this boat around and go back the way you came."

"Back to port?"

"Port, starboard, who gives a s**t. Just get outta this."

Kail looks satisfied, "So, at last, you show fear… No. We'll all go to the cold dark depths…"

"I am here only because I dream that I am. I’ll wake up, you'll die, and you'll kill Melissa for nothing."

Kail advances dangerously on Billy, "I’ve opened the bilges to the sea, the Bold Mary is wallowing, prepare to drown loathsome demon." The old captain’s words tail off, the sound of the wind and sea blend with the sound of an electronic siren.

Billy recognises the sound as some sort of alarm, he grins, "I am gonna be going, but not to the bottom, not today."

Kail launches himself at Billy, screaming, "Shimmering demon, there is no escape!" The old seaman's hands clamp around Billy's throat, the thrashing pair fall to the deck. Melissa looks on although both she and Kail have taken on a slight opalescent glow.

Billy's wet, demonic face grins up at Kail, his eyes glint green, the klaxon wails and he knows he has won. In manic triumph, he shouts, "I am the scariest thing you could ever meet. I am the haunter of the darkest corner of this stinking hulk…" The storm is abating, the mist is clearing, Kail is almost transparent. "I am the vilest creature from the dark reaches of the past," Billy is now shouting with fanatical conviction, his voice almost one with the wail of the alarm, "I am the ageless evil. I am the messenger from Hell. I am Beelzebub. I am Bottleneck!"

Billy lays exhausted on the warehouse floor. The klaxon abruptly stops, “Did you set that off?” Desmond fumes as he approaches Billy, but the sight of his distressed nephew changes his anger to concern and some caution. "Are you alright?" The boy is now sitting up, looking breathlessly about him. He sees Desmond and grins broadly. Desmond sighs, "Good God, boy, I know I said shout but there's no need to overdo it…"

Billy struggles to his feet, sweaty and dishevelled. His uncle still keeps his distance and says, "I am not at all sure that you are cut out for this."

Billy looks genuinely amused, "Oh yes, uncle. I AM cut out for this. Tomorrow night I'll be ready."

"Well if you're sure. You had me worried for a moment there. I can't imagine what possessed you…"

Billy grins shyly and turns away as a dark malevolence flits across his face, his green eyes momentarily gleam as he starts to softly whistle ‘what shall we do with the drunken sailor…?’

Desmond sighs a self-satisfied sigh, it's nice to see the boy finally taking an interest in something.

THE END

My Review

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Featured Review

barleygirl

This is a superb story! The storytelling is top-notch & the mechanics of your writing are spot-on! The most intense part of reading this story is how you inject so much ATTITUDE & personality into your characters. Your dialogue is literally popping off the page, showing us who these people are and letting us feel the tension between them at each scuffle. There are threads neatly sewn in, like Billy's first mention of having dreamed this ship, then it comes in later on, but these threads are subtle, fitting in without looking manufactured for some purpose. I did like the first half better than the second half. For some reason, the discourse between Billy & specters wasn't quite as lively & full of attitude as the one between Billy & Desmond. Both excellent scenes, but just the one being a little stronger & more original-sounding. It's hard to depict the well-trod trail of ghosts & keep it sparkling fresh with new ideas, but you've done well at this (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

Posted 5 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

5 Years Ago

Thanks for your recent review of my short story, I am very pleased that you were entertained. Intere.. read more

5 Years Ago

Thanks for taking the time to give me some of your process . . . I always enjoy knowing about how ot.. read more

Reviews

Chris Shaw

You kept my interest all the way through, which is no mean feat because I normally stick with poetry rather than venture into stories. Poetry because it is shorter and takes less of my time to read. However I was very pleasantly surprised and entertained. I liked your characters, they were very believable, and the way your plot unfolded. I say well done you, you certainly have a talent. I hope this post gets the attention it deserves.

Chris