Out of Time

The sun beat down in its uncaring way; its rays more intense, reflected as they were off of the deceptively tranquil waves. My only other company, my relief, came in the form of the moon who'd I'd taken in as a confidant. Though my secrets held little worth half muddied by time as they were. The rest are filled with an endless sea. My world reduced to this wooden lifeboat and nonstop pounding in my head. Each day my nausea would crest. I would wait in anticipation as I thought this misery would end. Either with an anticlimactic fading to some sense of normalcy. Or a hated purge.

These were the only things I knew for sure. When I thought of who I was, there was nothing. Not a fog or vague memory close enough to touch. Nothing. This realization brought with it a fear that had me shivering as if I was sopping wet. What led me to this boat? Did others know I drifted here in need of an unlikely rescue? Or did they leave me here for their own good? In moments where I could think the most clearly, I decided there were no comforting answers to my questions.

As night closed in, I felt the grogginess of coveted sleep come over me. As I hovered somewhere between waking and dreams, a low moaning rose above the sound of the sea. It was impossible to tell the direction. It came from above and below as well echoing somewhere in the distance. Dark storm clouds accompanied the moans; mist soon inched along like creeping vines.

What looked to be the stinging tentacles of a...jellyfish floated almost serenely about the boat. No matter which way I looked, I could not see the end of them. Wisps of light danced about each limb. For a time I watched with no small amount of wonder. Until its movements changed to one that reminded me distinctly of waving; as one did when drawing someone's attention. In that moment a deep seated fear reawakened but I couldn't yet tell what I was supposed to know.

A deathly cold came over me. My stomach clenched, tighter and tighter, the longer this went on. I couldn't begin to guess what this being waited for when I was already so firmly within its grasp. I didn't have to wait long for an answer. A ship's hull sliced through the mist. It was close enough I feared the tiny boat would capsize. It remained suspiciously steady however. What should've made me ecstatic instead brought the knowing thought, I shouldn't be on that ship.

That knowledge wasn't enough to open a jaw which feels like a rusty door. Or speak with a throat that feels like sandpaper. I could only put up the barest struggle as a determined man steadied the lifeboat. Then handed her up a line like some abandoned parcel. I could make out none of the words shouted at me. A flashlight suddenly blinded me. When I could see again I noticed their unfamiliar clothing. Just how far had I drifted from my home? There was no way to ask before I was hauled off to the clinic.

The ship's doctors surrounded me with beeping machines that terrified me nearly as much as my previous predicament.

Between the shouted orders I overheard someone said, with much disdain, "Who comes out on a ship in that?"

"Probably a stupid theme cruise," another replied.

"Look at her. And that piece of shit she somehow survived in! That ship belonged in a graveyard a long time ago."

This new voice spoke with authority, proven by the fact that no one dared contradict them. And even if someone had felt brave enough to consider it, the ship lurched which cut off any idle chatter.

Any furniture not bolted down in some manner slid to the left side of the room. Weak as I was, I not only toppled over but I couldn't leave the room. Unfortunately for my fragile state I was not deaf to the terrible screech of metal. I was surrounded by the screams as surely as if I were beside each person after the other was tossed to the waves; only to be plucked out like delicacies. I pressed my hands against my ears. Of all the questions I've asked myself, this was not one I wanted to understand.

But more than understanding was coming to me. I saw the other passengers packed into the hallway like sardines. Water poured in, swirling around my ankles and coming up to my waist by the time I reached the stairs. A heavy weight hit the ship in the present time, as I simultaneously remembered the wall exploding inward behind me. I turned to see the same tentacles I'd witnessed this very night. On trembling legs that threatened to give out at any moment I managed to make it to the deck. Where what remained of those on board were scattered about. I slipped in water or blood, I hadn't looked, transfixed by the sight. Any crew still living fired at will. Their weapons weren't meant to handle more than a possible mutiny. The guns served only to doom them faster.

As the wooden boards cracked and splintered around me I was thrown forward in the present. Others around me rushed to move the wounded above deck. When someone's gaze did meet mine their expression was no longer filled with urgency but revulsion, despair. I knew then this ship would meet the same fate as the others. The century that deserted me most days rushed back. I let out a wail that carried out to the skies above.

Now, as it happened then, I felt my body lift just as sea water rushed in to flood the room. One of the wisps I noticed earlier danced around my head; having found me again the way it was meant to. The level above me was torn open as if the ship was made of paper. A tentacle wrapped around me and swung me through the air before tucking me back in that damnable lifeboat. If I hadn't been so many twisted bodies laying in the wake of this being, I would think this motion gentle. Instead it felt like a fisherman carefully tucking away their trusty bait.

The night seemed to stretch on for eternity. I do not know when the last body disappeared into the clouds. Dark as those storm clouds were, a creature's shadow could still be seen. So large it felt too overwhelming to take it all in at once. Its tentacles trailed through the water, searching for any leftovers that hadn't been lost to the depths. Much too slowly, the mist crept back. The storm dissipated. No evidence of the night's horror was left as a warning.

All that awaited me was the blissful emptiness that would come as the sun fully rose. It was only naivete which would make the questions start again. Until then I could only replay each betrayal until those were taken from once again. I used to beg for answers during this time. But ghosts don't care why I was chosen and I care even less.