Written by Prestos Girl
Picture standing on a beautiful promenade deck on board the newest, most luxurious ship of your time. Itís night, and youíre looking through the window. The deck is painted with rich colors, and you canít imagine anything more elegant as you admire the lush green exotic plants all down the deck. Then you turn to look out the window, and you admire the ocean, deep blue in color. The lights from the ship you are on illuminate the water, and the ship does not break the stillness of the water.
The stars are brilliant, shining unlike anything you have ever seen before. As you gaze out contentedly at the water, you hear a large, abnormal sound, like something scraping along the bottom of the ship. A large white form passes by the window you are looking through, but before you can make out what it is, it is gone, the ship long past it.
As if to add to the strange occurrences, the regular pattern of the shipís engines seem to trip, then stop. It sounds so odd, having heard the engines going for five days straight now. You figure the ship is stopping for the night, but it doesnít occur to you that something may be wrong. After all, nothing could sink this ship! You look around, and no one is concerned, so you leave to go to your stateroom, as you are very tired.
So you decide to turn in for the night, and you enter the stateroom, still surprised by its beautiful furnishings every time you enter. You fall asleep on your bed, unaware of what is taking place on deck.
You awake with a start. You hear knocking on your door. You get up and walk to the door. You find a steward there.
"What is it?" you ask, annoyed.
"Iím sorry, but the captain is requiring a lifeboat drill. You need to dress warmly, and put your lifebelt on. Then get up to the deck as fast as you can."
"A lifeboat drill? Why so late at night?"
"I suppose he just wants it to seem real."
You nod and close the door, pulling on a thick, warm coat and warm shoes. Then you take the lifebelt off the shelf and put it on quickly. Finally, you lock your door and rush up onto the deck to hear further instructions.
When you get up on deck, you see the lifeboats being readied, and the first one about to be lowered. But you also see a ship in the distance. It seems to be coming closer.
"Please get in the boat," someone urges you.
You look at the lifeboat, then down at the icy Atlantic, then back at the safety of the large ship you are on.
"Iíll get in a different one," you say to the man.
He nods and rushes off to find a more cooperative passenger.
Time passes. You get colder and colder. The ship in the distance seems to still be moving, but it doesnít appear any closer. Lifeboat after lifeboat leaves the deck, and you lose track of time. Sooner than you thought, the last lifeboat hits the water only a few feet from where youíre standing. Then, and only then, do you begin to realize the danger you are in. Fear fills your heart as you see how much the ship is slanted. You see the band members put down their instruments and leave their spots. The back of the ship begins to rise high out of the water, and you run and grab onto a large white railing, along with many others. Screams echo out as the ship breaks in two, between the third and fourth funnel, and the front of the ship, the part that has been submerged in water for almost an hour, sinks to the bottom of the ocean.
The back of the ship stands up straight out of the water, like a mountain, pointing to the heavens. Then the remainder of the ship begins to sink, slowly, then faster and faster. Everyone is screaming, and you want to cover your ears, to wake up from this nightmare. But you canít, and you fall into the water.
The suction of the shipís pull drags you beneath the waves. The cold is like thousands of knives piercing you. You struggle against the water to get air. Finally you make it up to the surface, but you are chilled to the bone. Your heavy coat does no good for you now. As you let the lifebelt support your weight, you hear screams and cries for help. The lifeboats are too far away to help, and they continue to pull farther and farther away, afraid of being swamped. You close your eyes and think. Fatigue sets in, and you fall asleep, taking your last breath. You regret being so stubborn, for not getting in a lifeboat, and then you feel horrible for having the chance, while most of them did not. And then, with your last breath, you ask forgiveness from everyone. They may not be able to hear you, but at least you know you did what you could.