Daphne's Inferno

Group: �The Narrative Craft� - Exercise 2 Response

Daphne's Inferno

 

 

 

 

 

The Storm

The boat rocked against the waves. In the distance, black storm clouds spit streaks of lightning into the green sea. Large waves swelled beneath the flimsy sailboat, rocking it unsteadily below Daphne’s feet. She watched Rick pull the sails in. His wiry muscles flexed against a tough stretch of line. A sharp burst of cold air sent shivers down her body. Thunder tolled and marked the first drops of rain. Abandoning the sails, he spun around and rushed to Daphne.

            “Where’s your lifejacket?”

            Thunder rumbled closer.

            “Is it that serious?” She said

            The wind picked up speed and screeched in her ear. His next words were lost in the high-pitched squeal of the wind.

            “It. . .looks. . .ike. . .ater spout!” Lightning struck the high crest of a wave next to them. Foam erupted from the purpled water. Rick flung open a compartment and yanked out an orange jacket. He yanked it over her shoulders and clasped the plastic latches into place. They clicked and then the rumbling started.

            It reminded Daphne of the freight trains that ran by her neighborhood. How, when she stood close to the tracks, the ground rattled her teeth in her head. She could hear her teeth chattering right now.

            Rick wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck softly, sweetly, for the last time. Above them, the sky opened up. Clouds swirled like water in a drain and a black finger pressed down towards the sea. It touched down and ripped Jeff, Daphne, the boat, and the sea into a blur of motion. The wooden boat splintered and Daphne wondered abstractly if the cracking was the boat or her bones.

 

The Trip

            Daphne let her fingers dip into the waves as they licked the side of the boat. It cut through the water and left a stream of white wake behind them. She stared down into the murky green water, imagining sea-snakes and the black eyes of sharks. She shuddered and quickly pulled her fingers from the spray, even though her hands were three feet from the surface.

            Rick laughed and sat down next to her, his sun-bleached hair a shock against the blue sky. He handed her a glass of champagne and gave her a quick quirky smile.

            “Still scared?” He said.

            “A little.”

            “A lot,” he said and laughed. “Let’s celebrate!”

            “To what?” she said.

            “Overcoming fears.” He gently took her hand. “And. . .” He lifted her glass so that she could see through it. A diamond ring sat on the bottom, covered in bubbles.

            “Oh my god!” She said. She threw her arms around him and covered him in kisses. They both tumbled onto the deck and he caught her glass.

            “Don’t want to lose that,” he said, “cost more than this boat.”

            Thunder boomed in the distance. He hopped up.

            “Better check the weather, can’t have my baby lost at sea.” He shuffled below deck to check the radio.

            “Hurry back soon, lover.” She could feel her fear of the ocean dissipating from her like dew.

            Rick hurried back up from the cabin, his face a white sheet. He ran quickly to the wheel and spun it around. The boat heaved to the side, veering back towards land.

               

Adrift

. . .Daphne awoke to the sound of distant thunder. She heard a fire burning, the popping and hissing of air escaping from fissures in the wood. She opened her eyes and could not believe what she saw. The waves had turned into large mountains of fire. Am I in hell? The flames spread serpentine over the black water and singed Daphne’s skin. Her eyes tried to adjust between the orange fire and the deep blackness of night that threatened to close in around her.

A piece of white wood drifted next to her, an upturned S painted on the side. The Sarah-Bell. She flopped onto the debris and clasped the splintered sides. Under the crackling of the burning petrol she thought she heard Rick’s voice. A distant warble in the storm. Her name carried by the wind and swallowed by breaking waves. She felt faint, distant from her body, floating lightly as if suspended on a cushion of air just above the water. She tried swimming but noticed her right leg had been sheared off above the kneecap. Blood trickled steadily from the protruding stump.

On her back she stared at the night sky. The waves lifted and dropped her in a rhythmic lulling motion. Pinpricks of stars began to emerge. One of them grew more vibrant than the rest. A large white star, becoming brighter; closer.

             

           

 

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

this is great ,you are a great story teller,if this was turned to a movie i do not think it will convey the events in the same wonderful way you did ,i could see the raging sea,its as if i was really there the waves building high to sky its like a high wall and crushing into the small boat its nature when gets angry nothing stops in her way ,i could see the clouds and lightning and the freezing cold and every now and then a big shower from the sea covers the small boat ,and yet the fire burning from the fuel stores red burning mixing with the raging sea,the mixing of color red huge and burning with the blue mad waves tumbling overhead,its is life Dante inferno ,its like hell you draw here ,its sad fearful ,but you show it wonderfully ,great writing really ,i enjoyed it a lot

[Conner G]

Once again, great stuff. I was sucked in if you will. I will say you are the first writer on this website that has made me turn off my headphones so I can read without any distractions. I love the order, Middle, Beginning, End. I found that very original. Once again, is there going to be more? This seems to be a great idea to run with. Some sort of journey through hell sounds great.

[electricsatori]

Thank you for your review, Adrian. I appreciate your input. Which passages do you feel need to be revised on account of the choppiness?
I have a habit of making sentences curt when trying to imply urgency. I like to write longer, more leisurely passages, when the scene calls for reflection. This technique could pull the reader out if done improperly. Which is what I gather has happened here.
I can't wait to read Chapter 1 of your book The World, let me know when it's done and I'll be happy to review it.

[Adrian Dawne]

I received a helpful review from you, and I just HAD to return the favor. The title was what caught my eye first, being so similar to Dante's Inferno, and well... I just had to read this. I love your word choice and the details of the storm. "Clouds swirled like water in a drain and a black finger pressed down towards the sea." Describing it as a finger? I was able to picture. However, one thing was that much of the description contained choppy sentences, so maybe combining those every so often would make it better. Overall, I enjoyed this piece. Depressing, but yes, I enjoyed it.