Rover of the Sands
Disoriented and confused, you back away from the woman you love. She tries to grab your hand, but she is roughly pushed back by your crewmates. You can’t stand to see her so brutishly handled. You rain blows down on their backs, unable to understand your own words as you scream for deliverance. Someone, you don’t know who, comes up behind you and returns the favor. You don’t feel pain so much as a very strong inducement to sleep. The last thing you see is them all crowded around her, her gingham dress still visible in little jagged patches among raised arms and voices.
You are slapped awake by the Captain himself.
“Welcome back, Hogan,” he says grimly. “You’re in my quarters and will stay here until I deem you fit to return to service. Viola is gone.” He waits for your reaction, of which there is none. He continues: “We didn’t kill her. She did that all by herself. You saw what she had become. When she saw there was no going back, she got up on the railing and jumped. The men are wearing mourning bands. Many have asked after you. But what can I tell them, Hogan? Surely you were at the very least suspicious. I don’t know how I can trust you anymore, but the fact is I have to. You’re an able seaman and good with the men. And I don’t have enough men. When you get better, you will return to your duties. To regain my respect, you will also be given new duties. You will investigate anything strange happening on this ship. I thought we would be safe after Viola’s…departure…but just last night, McGirk of all damn people said he saw something.”
Your breath comes up short. Viola has died for nothing. Viola and your unborn child have died for nothing. And you let them. Only now do you realize your head is pounding where you were struck and gingerly palpate the wound with your fingertips.
“That was my work,” continues McCann. “It had to be done. I’m sure you understand. I’ll have Malone change your dressing later. Boson.”
“Captain,” you reply, your voice a jagged rattle.
Old Dog pads over to his blankets by the low windows, looking forlornly out to sea. You hear the captain lock his door behind him. Why has he done that? What more could they possibly have to fear from you, a broken man who has lost everything?
For a moment you consider finding a knife and ending it all, but another thought occurs to you as you sit up painfully in bed. Moving very slowly and carefully, you make your way to the Captain’s desk, where an uncharacteristically messy pile of papers spills out of a large folio.
Shaking your head side to side to clear your bleary eyes, you read with astonishment a long treatise by an anonymous author about the nature of Apparitions. Your eyes dart nervously to the door, but you press on. Where should you begin?
*******************************************
You are slapped awake by the Captain himself.
“Welcome back, Hogan,” he says grimly. “You’re in my quarters and will stay here until I deem you fit to return to service. Viola is gone.” He waits for your reaction, of which there is none. He continues: “We didn’t kill her. She did that all by herself. You saw what she had become. When she saw there was no going back, she got up on the railing and jumped. The men are wearing mourning bands. Many have asked after you. But what can I tell them, Hogan? Surely you were at the very least suspicious. I don’t know how I can trust you anymore, but the fact is I have to. You’re an able seaman and good with the men. And I don’t have enough men. When you get better, you will return to your duties. To regain my respect, you will also be given new duties. You will investigate anything strange happening on this ship. I thought we would be safe after Viola’s…departure…but just last night, McGirk of all damn people said he saw something.”
Your breath comes up short. Viola has died for nothing. Viola and your unborn child have died for nothing. And you let them. Only now do you realize your head is pounding where you were struck and gingerly palpate the wound with your fingertips.
“That was my work,” continues McCann. “It had to be done. I’m sure you understand. I’ll have Malone change your dressing later. Boson.”
“Captain,” you reply, your voice a jagged rattle.
Old Dog pads over to his blankets by the low windows, looking forlornly out to sea. You hear the captain lock his door behind him. Why has he done that? What more could they possibly have to fear from you, a broken man who has lost everything?
For a moment you consider finding a knife and ending it all, but another thought occurs to you as you sit up painfully in bed. Moving very slowly and carefully, you make your way to the Captain’s desk, where an uncharacteristically messy pile of papers spills out of a large folio.
Shaking your head side to side to clear your bleary eyes, you read with astonishment a long treatise by an anonymous author about the nature of Apparitions. Your eyes dart nervously to the door, but you press on. Where should you begin?