Yeah, I know that this is a copy of the SB Harborville, but it inspired me to write this. Right now, I think that it would be just fine as a flash fiction, but I might just open it up to be a murder mystery. I am really in love with it all right now. So this would be the prologue, if I decide to finish the rest of the story.

Now, none of this is actually written in Harborville SB... so... yeah. Thanks for reading!-

HarborVille

“Pull ‘em up, ‘arry!” Thompson shouted roughly. His long, gray beard was becoming soaked by the heavy rain that was pouring down into his fishing boat. He yanked on a lever and the mechanical arm slowly lifted out of the stormy sea.

Harry, who was down on the deck, was struggling with the many ropes that were tied to the arm. All of the ropes, however, were connected to a net on the arm. The net was black, but he could still see the numerous fish squirming to break loose.

“Let ‘em go!” Thompson shouted up from the control box. Harry nodded and pulled on the rope, releasing the fish onto the deck. It made a horrible thumping sound as every fish landed brutally.

As Harry started grabbing the fish, he saw Thompson running down to the deck. The rain was getting thick, too. It was pouring harder than it was yesterday. It must have been, Harry thought as a fish squirmed out of his hand. He caught it and tucked it into his arms.

When he was loaded, he dumped them into an icebox, where they would be shipped off to the HarborVille’s marketplace. Harry turned around to pick up another handful of fish when he saw something.

At first, he couldn’t make it out. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. After all, he had been in the ocean for over three days and was getting a bit woozy. But still…

Uncertain of himself, he walked a little closer and bent down. The liquid was dark red. Blood, perhaps. That wasn’t so uncommon. They were storing fish; there was bound to be blood.

Except that this blood wasn’t from any fish. As he followed the red stream, his eyes landed on an arm. A human arm. Harry pulled back and stared out into the sea.

No. That couldn’t be right! There couldn’t be an arm! He looked again and covered his mouth as he caught a glimpse of the whole figure.

“Th – Thompson! Come, quick! There is something you need to see!” Harry shouted and looked up. Thompson was loading fish into the icebox, just like he should be doing. The man turned his head and said, “What is it?”

“It’s a… uh, it’s a body, captain.”

Thompson shifted his position and scrunched up his face. The rain pounded against his skin like hail. “What d’ya mean, a body? A people body?”

Harry nodded and looked down again. Fish were covering it, but he could still make out the head. The eyelids were covering the eyes and the nose was dented. No, Harry though. Dented wasn’t the right word. Destroyed was more like it.

It was as if there was no nose. It lay completely against the woman’s face, as if it had been pounded there.

Thompson quickly strode towards Harry and looked at the body. His eyes flitted across her figure.

“Pick ‘er up. We need to report this.” Thompson took one last look at the body and turned around. He sped across the deck and up into the control room. Harry bent down and shifted some dead fish off of the woman’s figure.

It was then that he noticed that the woman was naked. Completely nude. Flushing, he turned his face away. He shouldn’t be looking at this, he knew. It was these kinds of things that pervert the mind and spirit.

Grimacing and looking away, he slid his hand underneath her spine and lifted her up. Carefully, he placed her on his shoulder. He felt very uncomfortable as he placed his hand on her back and her leg.

“Just ignore her,” he said to himself. He quickly glanced at Thompson, who was on the radio, phoning for the police. He motioned for Harry to join him.

As he carted her up the stairs, he became embarrassingly aware of the body parts that he was touching. He bit his bottom lip and halted such thoughts. Those were not the things that a preacher’s son would want to think about! How dare he even begin to think such thoughts!

“Here, Thompson… I… need to go,” Harry said quickly, and laid the body on the table. He looked down and exited the room, while Thompson reported the body.

*

He had found a body! In the fishing lines! But how could he have? Just a fisherman from HarborVille… he never had any luck with catching fish. But catching a body! Catching a body of a –

It was then that he realized the obvious. He had caught a dead body. The woman was dead. That means that someone had killed her. That means that someone and killed her and tossed her into the ocean!

The boat tilted and it sent waves crashing into the deck. Harry put his hand up to his forehead. If Thompson reported the dead body, then the press would be all over the boat. They would delay his work, and he wouldn’t get the money he needed. He wouldn’t get the food on the table for Carla. Oh, she would be sorely disappointed in him.

If Thompson reported the dead body, Carla would be angry. She might leave him again. Harry couldn’t have that. Thompson could not report her.

Harry stared at Thompson as he talked over the radio. He had to stop him. But how? He could try and convince him to toss the body back into the water. No… Thompson wouldn’t do that. The chance to be on television would mean the world to him. And this was his chance.

Harry didn’t see any other option than to do it. Yes, Harry would have to do him in.

Quickly, Harry skidded across the deck, fish flying everywhere. He didn’t care. He would clean them up later. Where was the knife? Where was the gutter?

He opened a toolbox that was secured in its place and fumbled around until he found it – a short knife that he used to gut the fish. Harry closed the toolbox and slid the knife into his raincoat. Then he slowly made his way up to the stairs, and into the control room.

*

“’arry? ‘arry? Where’d that blasted kid go? ‘arry?” Thompson bellowed. He glanced at the naked woman that was laid across the table. She was beautiful.

Her form was stunning, and everything was in the perfect proportion. Perhaps she had been raped? Raped and then thrown into the sea. It sounded reasonable.

“Poor angel,” he whispered. Thompson stroked her cheek gingerly with the back of his calloused finger. Harry appeared in the doorway. His hand was tucked in his pocket, and his eyes flitted across the room.

“There you are. Listen, kid, the police is comin’ and I need you to pick up the rest of the fish, you hear? Just clean up the deck, and make it look present’ble.”

Harry didn’t move. He stared at Thompson.

“Whadda you doing, ‘arry? Go clean up like I told you!” Thompson yelled. Suddenly, Harry pulled out the gutter and advanced toward him. His skin turned to ice and he backed away.

“What are you doing? Put that thing away!” Thompson cried. His eyes were shaking uncontrollably.

Harry continued to walk forward, very slowly. The gutter was held out in front of him, reading to pierce the old man.

“I’ll ‘ave you for this! Oh, yes I will! You’ll be fired and never to return to this ship!” Thompson retorted. He roared and bounded into Harry, whose eyes widened in surprise.

It all happened rather quickly. Thompson bounded into Harry, and he plunged the knife into the captain. Thompson made a strange noise as blood trickled from his belly.

Harry twisted the gutter and grinned. He slowly pulled it out and plunged it through Thompson’s gut again.

*

Shortly after, Harry dragged the two bodies out of the control room and threw them over the edge of the fishing boat. Each one made a satisfying splash as they hit the water. Harry grunted and spit. He turned around and walked back into the control room.

Grabbing the steering wheel, he flipped the boat around and sailed off into the horizon, away from HarborVille and Clara. She would have to wait.

For now.

*

Thanks for reading, yall!

-Jared