OCTOBER 2017 -- 75 Word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY to TERESA!

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Out of the Frying Pan…

Elizabeth sniffed the air, scanning the horizon. The sea was still, but something wasn’t quite right. She readied her harpoon.

The deep erupted in a swarm of tentacles. Before she could shout “Kraken!”, Elizabeth was underwater. She stabbed the cephalopod and surfaced, gulping air.

Another abomination emerged, maliciously draining the ocean. Elizabeth, back onboard the Acheron, stared defiantly at the beast.

Then, it spoke.

“Pick up your toys, Elizabeth. Bath time is over.”

“But Mom…”
 
The Last Song

All Sea's sing differently.

The Blessed Sea sings bitter sweet, like the calling of drowning Siren's.

The song of the Splinter Sea is harsh, like the strings of a broken harp.

Rohan savoured the salted song of the Blessed Sea. It's bitter notes filled her bones with a warmth only home could bring.

The whip stripped away the moment.

Did the sea's by the slaver's shore's sing?
 
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A Dragon Slayer's Logic


Sword ready, he stood, resolute at the helm.

He'd chartered ship and crew in Durrwent Harbour and after stopping for water, supplies and illicit recreation at World's End Port they'd sailed into the unknown.

Three weeks due west with no sign of land; the crew grew restless.

''We'll fall of the edge!''

But he'd vowed to slay a Dragon and there were none in the known world.

''Onward!'' He'd continue. With or without the crew.
 
'Ware the Kraken (A sea shanty)



Oh solar winds off the starboard blow

wake up my lads, wake up!

Pierce our ship to it's very soul

shields up my lads, shields up!




Oh bulwark's gone and hull's ablaze

suit up my lads, suit up!


Captain dead and crew half crazed

hold up my lads, hold up!



Oh we're sinking fast, beneath the waves

breathe up my lads, breathe up!

All condemned to a wat'ry grave

game's up my lads, game's up!
 
Row, Row, Row Your Boat

The mutiny was bad.

But…

You put your left oar in, your left oar out,

In, out, in, out, twizel it about,

You move the boat forward with lots of sound,

‘Cause that’s what it’s all about…


He. Would. Not. Stop. Singing!

Teach me for asking for an all singing, all dancing wizard to join the crew.

Maybe I could pitch him overboard?

Maybe I would go insane before he started dancing?

Gods, save me!
 
Sinbad and the Isle of Living Horror

Middle Eastern and Scandinavian men, defeated a grisly zombie horde on the ship's deck.

"Captain Thogarr. After those unfortunate men's remains are disposed of, we'll pray for their souls."

"Aye, Captain Sinbad. So many floating dead in the ocean...never did I think they'd climb aboard, and attack us. Tis a bad omen."

"Means the island is close. Your crew and mine, will destroy this evil."

#

"LAND!!!"

"Screams, drums...roaming corpses."

"Hell, awaits us."

"Aye..."
 
Home

The helmsman has no eyes yet stares fixedly ahead,

the sea so clear that stars can be seen deep within.

I am old now, the wreckage of my life behind me, a lifetime on these waves with no sight of land or hint of meaning, all purpose as fathomless as ever.

Suddenly we reach a shore.

Everyone who has ever mattered to me is there to welcome me.

They have not forgotten.

Finally I remember.
 
The Primordial Push

Analyn zipped her windbreaker, covering her neck as the storm hit. The motor shot; smoke rose. She coughed. Waves raged against her boat; her legs shook at every blow.

Light glinted two arm lengths away. She reached, delirious. A hand, manicured like hers, pulled her in.

She rode the cosmic seas, shedding years like a snake sheds skin.

She awoke, ejected in a swell from her mother’s womb. Maternal caress, milk and a familiar face.
 
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The Deep Plain

On the fifth day, the sinking stopped, and the ship met a rocky halt. The Captain mustered his courage, leaning over the bulwark into the salty mist.

Below, nests of coral supported the hull in bony branch-fingers; beyond, an obscene expanse of sand, dotted with the flapping shapes of stranded fish, stretched skywards.

‘Well, boys,’ he said, winking to the mass of mariners huddled around the mast, ‘I hope you wore your walking boots’.
 
Upon This Marble Sea

A curse was cast upon Captain Haba from the dying alien as he directed his crew to scour the strange vessel for treasures.

Later, after many days of rough weather, the sea became as calm as a sheet of glass. Gradually it evolved into a beautiful, multi-hued slab of marble.

Now, his ship immobile upon this marble sea, the captain sat cross-legged in his cabin happily frolicking among his sparkling, worthless treasures.
 
Where Late the Mermaids Sang

They hauled her aboard in a net, flopping wetly on the deck, blue scales gleaming.

“She’ll fetch a fortune! Stow her in the hold.”

“Pretty thing. It seems a pity—“

“Nonsense! They don’t feel things the way we do.”

Five days, and the Captain was raving. Seven, the men began to suicide.

They drew lots. The losers, trembling, carried her and threw her over the side.

***

A year later, the Captain died in a madhouse.
 
The clock ticked its way into the future as they waited around the table. Plumes rose from the old man’s pipe, filling the room with its familiar smell. The clack of the woman’s needles provided a counter rhythm to the clock she kept watching.

Their son ran in. “She sent them!”

The two stood up. “She did? Thank God.”

The boy slapped down the tickets, showing the words RMS Titanic. “We’re going to America!”
 

Sail the Sea of Stars

Nobody would hire Shantel. Human training as a starship captain was not enough.

She read the ad again. “Hiring freighter captains to sail the Sea of Stars.” She carefully checked the small print. Captains were based on Enduri; could hire their own crew; and set their own schedule. She cheerfully signed for 10 years.

-------

(Two years later.) Shantel sighed resignedly. The ocean called “Sea of Stars” was not the “sea of stars” she’d imagined.
 
Beached

The exposed ribs of the ship's carcass clawed fingerlike from the mud and silt. Once beautiful, an ocean faring vessel with a soul as beautiful as a butterfly.

Everything changes, mechanics and science eroding magic and wonder. As the steamers rolled up rivers, the mystical world faded into twilight.
As the chimneys puked toxins into the air, all that remained of the age of wonders, were skeletal hulks, become passively mundane.

Wrecks of another time.
 
Bone Voyage

The ship was ready, finally. It had taken the best part of a decade.

She was beautiful.

Bleach white with ivory masts and flesh toned sails. A thing of dreadful beauty.

***
She his as she crossed the plains into those of the living. Water boiled under her, skeletons moved across the deck.

The first target was near. Mist covered their approach.

The skiff drifted towards shore.

"Bone Voyage!"

No one laughed death is serious business.
 
Finding Nemo


The voice frightened Julie so much that she called in sick and stayed home for days. Still it came, warning: an ATV was going to kill her.

She chartered a boat to the furthest reaches of the Pacific Ocean, where no ATV could be. Fifteen hundred miles from any land, and still she heard it:

ATV

Jules Verne

She dived beneath the waters to escape the voice.

Debris blazed from the sky.

The boat exploded.
 
For Now

I never imagined it’d be so peaceful at the end of the world, silently watching salty raindrops drip oceans into the stars. They cascaded into oblivion, yet only just pulled my anchor taut.

She would like this.

I wiped tears and rain on my sleeve, then pulled the urn free; heavier than her soul should be.

She took to the wind, danced, clouding with the furthest night, and vanished into memory.


“For now, Sweet Sparrow.”
 
Sun, Sea, Sand, Sex.

Golden beaches, gorgeous females, good food, sun on their backs. It was that time of year again. They just couldn't wait.

It had been rough at first but further south the wind abated and, as the waves and currents eased, they relaxed, relived conquests past and anticipated those to come.

Finally, they dragged themselves up onto the soft sand of the mating grounds and surveyed their surroundings with mounting excitement. Beats Loch Ness every time.
 
Salt and Sorrow

The old woman had seven sons, and the sea took them all.

Three set out, never to return.

Two were lost at war.

One was swallowed whole by a leviathan, and the youngest suffered the kiss of a mermaid.

Her daughter stood on the quay and cried.

‘Do not weep, lass. There is salt enough in the sea,’ the old woman said, as the coracle drifted away, ‘and I go to see my boys.’
 
Rendezvous


The boat bumped against the sandbank and the old man climbed carefully down.

They’d been meeting here for years. They’d drink whiskey and play cards, talking in broken languages until the sun rose.

But now, his face creased and weathered, walking with his stick plunging awkwardly into the sand; he wondered why she’d never aged a day.

As the moonlight passed, and the sky turned to dust, he knew.

He would never see her again.
 
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