Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Writing Prompt #15- Ocean Tears

Bonus Day 1

Sinking Ship

You realize the boat is sinking, but that’s not the worst thing that could happen. The worst

thing happened last night.

 

I bailed water as fast as my frozen fingers would allow with the metal bucket. The rain bashed me in the face taking my hair and putting it in my eyes. I knew the boat was sinking and fast. But that was not the worst thing I had to deal with at the moment. I was in the middle of the ocean, and pirates had boarded us last night leaving us with nothing but a gunshot wound to the stomach for my poor lover.

 

I had no phone, I had no food, and I had no way to hail anyone. They took all our supplies and I had to watch as my love continued to bleed out all over our cabin using my first aid kit to try and stop the flow.

 

I knew they had shot the controls and the radio. Perhaps they damaged the boat in some other way. We hadn’t had a lot but it was foolish perhaps to think we could safely traverse this area of the ocean alone. It was the adventure of a lifetime and we had both left our families behind and all the scandal that goes with that.

 

I remember the pirates with masks hiding their features speaking in some kind of French language that I could only understand a little of. They looked African, but from which country I had no idea. They made demands swinging guns around with urgency but we did not understand. And then they shot Greg. I put my hands up shakily shaking my head not knowing what they wanted from us.

 

They rummaged through our cabin knocking things to the floor noisily, taking the food and whatever else seemed to have value, and then they disabled our communications and shot up the boat. Meanwhile, I tried to make Greg comfortable. I hefted him onto the bed the best I could while he groaned in pain. “I’m so sorry.” I felt his brow, his face was so pale. So much blood.

 

I shoved all the bandages I could into the wound and used the first aid tape not knowing what else to do. I put pressure on it with my hands, I watched him pass out, looking strangely peaceful. I heard more gunshots and then some splashing and finally silence.

 

They were gone. It was just the two of us and the ocean. Suddenly my feet felt icy and wet. I looked down at the water streaming in slowly. “No, this cannot be happening.” I left Greg and went to the radio. Completely gutted. Flares taken as well. I knelt and prayed not knowing what else to do. Finally, with the water growing in a pool, I grabbed the bucket. I took to bailing as much as I could, feeling the tightness in my arms after a while but ignoring it. I had to keep going. I did not know how else to keep going.

 

I check on Greg, he is asleep; blood is still seeping into the bandages. Tears come to my eyes unbidden. I don’t have time to cry. I need to somehow signal someone. I grab the lighter out of his pocket and find some papers on our desk, I take it to the deck and that is when the storm starts to lash me and I realize there is no way I can start a fire as the rain is too intense. The wind rips the paper out of my hands scattering it away, I feel the lighter drop to the deck and disappear leaving me with the metal bucket in one hand. I can taste the salt water or maybe it was my tears mixed with the rain? I start yelling at the storm, at God and at myself.

 

I recall how we were eating breakfast and planning what port we would go to next on our adventure, not a care in the world. I could watch Greg eat an orange all day and be perfectly happy. He made it seem almost sensual. We shared a look and smiled. We felt the boat shift we saw the other vessel approach but didn’t think much of it. Boats pass by each other on occasion it wasn’t until we heard the shouting and saw the guns that things turned ugly. If I could go back in time and warn myself I would say, “Get to the radio, call for help!”

 

The pirates took our cell phones first, holding us at gunpoint while they did so. This wasn’t their first ambush apparently. And most likely wouldn’t be their last. I think of my soon to be ex husband and the kids. Would they even know or find out what happened to us out here? Would I see their faces? I only meant to go away for a year or so. Not forever, no,not forever.

 

I dropped the bucket, my hands going completely numb. I listened to the rain and wind and waves crash against the boat tossing us around like a toy. I feel the water creep up to my knees, feel it splash me, and soak me making me feel so very cold. I grab the railing, but I can’t feel a thing. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. I shiver and try to think of the happy moments I had before all this. If I am to die out here I want my last thoughts to be happy. I feel the boat start to sink at last. One side starts to lower and I let go feeling the water rush over me and into me.

 

 

Author:

Singe mom, part time writer of primarily sci-fi and fantasy.

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