Written by Story Girl
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
In a way, he was glad that his
parents and Maise had died. Even though it sounded horrible, even to his own
ears, he was glad, slightly, and he would never be ashamed of that fact. If his
parents hadn’t died, he would have ended up taking over their simple farm when
his father had become to old to run it, married a girl he had known since he
had been a baby, and eventually, grown old and handed over the farm to his own
son. This was the way it would have, and should have, happened if his parents
hadn’t been trapped by a fallen log while trying the get his sister out of
their burning home, Jack himself already shivering in the snow.
That night had been the worst of
his life, listening to his parent’s anguished screams as they were burnt alive
and Maise’s desperate cries for help. He had been told earlier to stay exactly
where he was by his father, and even though he had heard his name called out a
few times as they died, he hadn’t moved. He had been told to stay there, and
because his father had said so, he had stayed, no matter how many times he
heard his mother scream, his father plead, or Maise’s silence. He had followed
his father’s orders like a fifteen-year-old boy should.
He had wept himself into a
restless slumber, awaking only when the sun rose, and he could see how much
damage had happened. The first time he had caught sight of his parents, he had
vomited, spewing the remainder of what was in his stomach when he saw Maise,
her burnt limbs entangled behind her body. In a state of sickness and despair,
he had crawled into town, collapsing on the porch of Mrs. Whitman’s home.
He had never thought that, only a
few years after that night, another would come along that, if he had lived, he
would have remembered as the worst night of his life.
The Titanic.
A marvelous ship, raved about for
months before its departure. Jack remembered reading the newspapers, hearing
the men discuss the ship, the women beside their partners chattering on about
how much they would die to even step onto the grand ship.
This had been the thing that had
taken his life, no matter how small or worthless it was. His life had been
pointless until he had met Rose. And he supposed he had his parents to thank
for that, because of their deaths. If they hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have moved
away, and then he wouldn’t have won his ticket, thus never meeting the woman he
loved with all his heart and soul. For three blissful days, he had finally felt
like his life was worth something, because he loved someone and they loved him
back. Even though he had never told her of his feelings, Jack was sure that
they had shown through. He hoped they had shown through.
Then the night had taken over,
the night that thousands would die, and with them, himself. If the Titanic had
been allowed to have more lifeboats on board, no matter how much it crowded up
the decks, Jack was sure that more people would have survived, even if it was
only by a hundred or so.
The screams of the people falling
to their icy deaths still haunted him in the afterlife. Their fearful gazes as
they looked around as the ship rose and realized that never again would they
see the sun rise. His own gaze, as he clasped Rose’s hand and willed himself to
live, if not for his parents, but for Rose, the woman who had defied her
standing and fiancé to be with him, who’d risked everything for a man she had
foolishly fallen in love with.
Then death had claimed him, and
he knew no more, only saw the light that hundreds of men and woman had seen
before him, saw his mother, eternally youthful, sobbing, and Maise, a grin
lighting up her face as he took her soft, eternally childlike hand and let her
lead him past the gates of heaven.
In a way, he was glad he had
died. Because then, he would always be able to see his Rose.
The End.