The Sea Dreamer

Stormy Glimmer sat at the kitchen table staring at more than fifteen job applications scattered across its worn wooden surface.

It was close to midnight, but sleep refused to come.

Being fresh out of high school with no job and no real plan for what came next had turned her thoughts into a whirlpool. Most of her friends already had jobs, college scholarships, or at least some idea of where they were going.

Stormy had none of those things.

Her family had never had much money, and now that graduation was behind her, the reality of adulthood was beginning to settle heavily on her shoulders.

She wanted to make her parents proud.

All those years of studying, working hard, and learning everything she could couldn't have been for nothing. She had dreams—big ones—but dreams didn't pay bills, and they certainly didn't pay college tuition.

Stormy sighed and picked up another application.

"One thing at a time," she whispered to herself.

She needed something that would eventually work around a college schedule, assuming she could ever afford to take classes. Having enough free time for the things she actually enjoyed would be nice too.

She picked up an application for a security guard position and studied it.

"That could work," Stormy murmured.

Her nose wrinkled as she imagined herself wearing the uniform.

"Except I'd rather not spend all day getting yelled at while wearing something that ugly."

Into the maybe pile it went.

"What a mess," she complained. "I've got nothing so far."

She scratched her palm and shifted in the old wooden chair. After sitting there for hours, the hard seat had become painfully uncomfortable.

Next came an application for the local grocery store.

Stormy stared at it.

"Nope."

She tossed it aside.

"Not happening in this lifetime. I cannot smile for an entire shift and pretend to be nice all day."

She leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Then reality sank in.

Stormy groaned.

"It's a small town. Bagging groceries might be my only option."

With another groan, she retrieved the application and dropped it onto the maybe pile.

Maybe filling out everything and waiting to see who called first was the smartest thing to do.

Several of the other applications were for larger companies, but most wanted college graduates or people with experience she didn't have. She added an application for the local library to her fill it out and see what happens pile.

Until she could afford college, work would have to come first.

Any work.

Eventually, some order emerged from the chaos covering the table. One pile was for absolutely not, and another was for fill it out and pray.

Stormy glanced toward the cat lounging nearby.

"Well, Tabby, I guess I'll be working close to home," she told him. "That's good news for you."

Tabby answered with a lazy purr.

Stormy smiled and scratched behind his ears.

"At least somebody's happy about my terrible employment options."

Outside, the wind had begun to strengthen.

The sky had been clear earlier, but that meant very little in Alabama. One minute the heat could make you feel like you were melting into the pavement, and the next you could be soaked through and shivering beneath a thunderstorm.

Stormy picked up another application and read through it.

"Not much else I can do," she muttered. "Fill them all out and see who calls."

Buddy, her husky, slept peacefully at her feet. His thick gray-and-white coat made him look more like a wolf than a dog.

Stormy nudged him gently with her foot.

"What do you think, Buddy?"

The husky didn't move.

"Thanks. Very helpful."

His ear twitched.

Stormy smiled faintly.

Then her fingers drifted absently to the gold chain around her neck.

Her smile disappeared.

What some people had called a prank hadn't been funny.

It had been cruel.

The chain was a reminder of what could happen when people decided they hated someone enough to hurt them.

She rarely allowed herself to think about that night.

The basement.

The fear.

The heat.

The pain.

Stormy's fingers tightened around the chain for a moment before she forced herself to let it go.

She closed her eyes.

Instead of remembering, she dreamed.

Pirates sailed across violent seas.

Arabian kings crossed endless deserts beneath blazing suns.

Knights in shining armor rode massive warhorses along the borders of forgotten kingdoms.

Stormy loved history. She had devoured everything she could find in school and then wandered into historical romance novels when textbooks weren't enough.

She imagined ships sailing across endless oceans, deserts stretching toward distant mountains, green plains untouched by roads, and ancient castles rising from the mist.

Those worlds seemed so much more exciting than hers.

And none of them had anything to do with being trapped in a basement while someone tried to burn metal against your skin.

Stormy's eyes opened.

"I wish I could go back in time," she said quietly.

Buddy lifted his head at the sound of her voice.

Stormy looked down at him.

"Wouldn't that be something, boy? Traveling the world and seeing all those places for myself?"

Buddy yawned, his tongue rolling from his mouth. His amber eyes gleamed gold in the dull kitchen light.

Stormy smiled.

"Maybe I'd even find love."

Buddy stared at her.

"Don't judge me."

His tail thumped once against the floor.

Stormy laughed.

"Maybe I'd find myself a knight. One of those heroic ones who knows how to deal with all the crazy people."

Buddy lowered his head back onto his paws.

Stormy sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm dreaming."

Her fingers moved over the gold chain again.

It had become a symbol.

A reminder.

Trust no one.

She had considered having it removed more than once, but every attempt caused so much pain that eventually she'd stopped trying.

Tabby's head suddenly snapped up.

Stormy noticed.

"What is it?"

The cat stared toward the hallway.

Buddy's head rose a second later.

Then he stood.

Stormy frowned.

"Buddy?"

A faint vibration traveled through the table.

The applications trembled.

Stormy looked down at them.

"What the—"

The glasses in the cabinet began to rattle.

Buddy growled.

The vibration grew stronger.

Suddenly, the entire house lurched.

Pictures crashed from the walls.

Cabinet doors flew open, throwing dishes onto the kitchen floor.

The lights flickered wildly as car alarms and home security systems erupted throughout the neighborhood.

Then the windows shattered.

Stormy screamed and dove beneath the table as glass scattered across the floor.

"Tabby!"

The frightened cat bolted from the kitchen.

Buddy barked furiously.

A violent BANG shook the hallway.

Stormy turned just in time to see the basement door tear loose and crash onto the floor.

Buddy faced the dark opening, his hackles raised as he barked into the blackness below.

"Buddy!"

The floor bucked beneath Stormy.

Her mind raced.

Tornado?

Had a tree hit the house?

Was the whole place coming down?

An earthquake never crossed her mind. Alabama wasn't supposed to suddenly shake apart beneath her feet.

Dogs throughout the neighborhood barked and howled.

For several terrifying seconds, it felt as though the earth itself had become angry—as if the ground wanted to split open and swallow everything above it.

Then, slowly, the shaking weakened.

The dishes stopped rattling.

The walls became still.

Stormy remained beneath the table, breathing hard.

"Okay..."

She cautiously crawled out.

"Okay, Stormy. You're fine."

Buddy growled toward the basement.

Stormy looked at him.

"Buddy?"

Before she could grab him, the husky raced toward the open doorway.

"No!"

Buddy disappeared down the basement stairs.

"Buddy!"

Stormy scrambled to her feet.

"Come back!"

She rushed after him but stopped on the second step.

Darkness waited below.

Her stomach twisted.

No.

Not the basement.

Anywhere but the basement.

Stormy gripped the doorframe.

"Buddy, come back up here!"

A bark echoed from somewhere below.

Stormy closed her eyes.

"Of course you're not going to listen."

Another bark answered.

She looked down into the darkness.

"You are officially the worst guard dog ever."

Buddy barked again.

Stormy swallowed hard.

Her hand slowly reached for the railing.

"There's nobody down there," she whispered to herself.

She took another step.

"There's nobody down there."

Another step.

"Dammit, it's dark."

Sweat gathered along her brow despite the cool air rising from below.

Her heart began pounding harder.

"Twelve steps," Stormy whispered. "There are only twelve steps. I can do twelve steps."

She started counting.

"Three... four... five..."

The darkness seemed to press against her.

"Buddy?"

His bark echoed from somewhere below.

Stormy tightened her grip on the railing.

"Come here, boy! You know I hate the dark!"

She took another step.

"And basements, for crying out loud."

The farther down she went, the colder the air became.

"Ten... eleven..."

Stormy hesitated.

Her foot hovered over the final step.

"Twelve."

Her shoe touched the basement floor.

Stormy released the breath she'd been holding.

"Okay. I made it."

She stretched one hand into the darkness.

"Buddy? Where are you?"

A damp chill settled against her skin as she moved forward.

Then the floor shifted.

Stormy stumbled.

"What was that?"

It moved again.

Not a vibration.

A roll.

Like standing on something floating upon water.

Stormy's heart jumped.

"Aftershock."

It had to be.

Another violent movement threw her off balance.

Stormy dropped to the floor and covered her head with her arms.

"Buddy!"

But the sounds surrounding her were wrong.

Wood creaked.

Wind howled.

Something enormous crashed nearby.

Then came another sound.

Stormy slowly raised her head.

Waves.

"No..."

A deep groan rolled through the darkness around her as timber strained under tremendous pressure.

A wave crashed against hollow oak.

Stormy's breath stopped.

"Buddy?"

The husky sat several feet away, staring at her with his tongue hanging from his jaws in a slow, perfectly unconcerned pant.

Stormy stared at him.

"Why are you not freaking out?"

The floor rolled again.

Stormy grabbed the boards beneath her.

Thunder split the air.

Above her came a sharp crash, followed by the pounding of boots.

Men were running overhead.

One direction.

Then another.

Someone shouted.

Stormy couldn't understand the words through the storm.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Then she smelled it.

Salt.

Mold.

Wet wood.

The odor was so strong it burned the back of her throat.

A faint light swung somewhere above, just enough for her eyes to begin adjusting.

Stormy slowly looked around.

Barrels surrounded her.

Wooden barrels.

Sacks had been stacked against rough timber walls.

Ropes hung from pegs.

Stormy turned toward the stairs she'd just descended.

They were still there.

But her basement wasn't.

At the top of the stairs stood a heavy wooden hatch.

An old-fashioned lantern swung from a peg beside it.

Stormy crawled backward.

"No..."

Another wave struck.

The entire room tilted.

Barrels creaked against their restraints.

Stormy's memories flashed behind her eyes.

The basement.

Darkness.

Heat.

Pain.

Her breathing became ragged.

"No, no, no. This isn't happening."

Then something brushed her ankles.

Stormy looked down.

Fabric.

A dress.

She stared at herself.

"What the hell?"

Stormy grabbed the skirt and pulled it outward.

The dress reached her ankles. Its old-fashioned design looked like something she'd seen in one of her history books. A fitted waist hugged her middle, and beneath the fabric she could feel the unmistakable stiffness of a corset.

Stormy's eyes widened.

"A corset?"

Her hands flew over herself.

"This cannot be happening."

She forced herself to breathe.

Slowly.

In.

Out.

Another roll nearly knocked her sideways.

Stormy caught herself against one of the barrels.

"Great."

She slapped one hand against the damp wooden floor.

"Just great!"

The ruffles beneath her chin were dirty and limp. Her gold chain still hung around her neck, but now the metal felt strangely warm.

Almost hot.

Stormy touched it.

The chain seemed to pulse beneath her fingertips.

She jerked her hand away.

"What is going on?"

Her hands moved to her hair.

It wasn't hanging loose the way she'd worn it earlier.

Her hair had been braided, twisted, and pinned into an elaborate bun held in place by some kind of wire frame.

Even her shoes had changed.

Instead of the comfortable shoes she'd worn around the house, leather lace-up boots covered her feet and rose above her ankles.

Stormy slowly stood.

Thunder exploded overhead.

A man shouted somewhere above her.

She froze.

Metal scraped against metal.

The hatch latch moved.

Buddy rose beside her.

A low growl rumbled from his chest.

Stormy's eyes snapped toward the stairs.

"Buddy..."

The hatch flew open.

Cold rain poured through the opening.

A wave crashed over the deck at the same moment, sending seawater rushing down the stairs.

It hit Stormy like someone had thrown a bucket over her head.

She sputtered and stumbled backward, instantly drenched.

Her hair stuck to her face. Her dress became heavy with water.

For some ridiculous reason, only one thought entered her mind.

So this is what a drowned rat feels like.

"Shit!"

Buddy's growl deepened.

Stormy threw an arm around his thick neck.

"Buddy, sit!"

He reluctantly obeyed, but his amber eyes remained fixed on the open hatch.

Stormy slowly looked up.

A dark figure stood above them.

She couldn't see his face.

Only the outline of a man standing against the storm.

He was tall and broad through the shoulders, his long coat whipping violently in the wind.

One hand gripped the edge of the hatch.

The other rested close to the sword at his waist.

Lightning split the sky behind him.

For one brilliant second, Stormy caught a glimpse of long dark-brown hair, a rain-soaked white shirt, and the hard outline of a man's face.

Then darkness swallowed his features again.

Stormy's heart hammered.

The stranger didn't move.

Neither did she.

Buddy growled between them.

Stormy tightened her arm around his neck.

There was only one reasonable explanation left.

And even that wasn't reasonable.

Holy mother of wild imagination...

Stormy stared up at the mysterious man.

Did I die?