Written by Prestos Girl
Picture standing on a beautiful
promenade deck on board the newest, most luxurious ship of your time. It’s
night, and you’re looking through the window. The deck is painted with rich colors,
and you can’t 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 ship’s 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 doesn’t 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.
"I’m 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.
"I’ll 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 doesn’t
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 you’re 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 can’t, and you fall into the water.
The suction of the ship’s 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.
The End.