This is a short story I will submit for writer's craft, I would like it polished up before I do. And this is also out of my usual writing realm of fantasy, so it was a little uncomfortable for me.
Here goes.
George
“Uh-oh” I thought as I looked towards the western horizon. A storm front seemed to be coming this way. I groaned. “Just my luck. A storm.” I cursed under my breath and resumed writing.
I have been stuck in this “life boat” for over two weeks now. Two of the worst weeks of my life. It isn’t because of solitude. Hell, solitude would be a relief right now. Instead, I’m on this boat with George. God, that man is an asshole. He’s cocky, loud, and obnoxious. I wish he went down with the ship.
Instead of Caitlyn. God, I wish she was here.
No, don’t think about it. You’re not ready. Or, I’m not ready I guess. After all, I am the one writing it. Anyway, I really hate this guy. HATE. He is the first person I have ever claimed to hate, and he is the first I’ve actually hated too. I have often looked at the gun wistfully, wishing it would work. No one would know. I’d be the only person to know that there were originally two people on this lifeboat. Oh well.
We’re eating fish. RAW fish. Almost all of our canned goods are gone, and we’re trying to make them last. So its fish for breakfast, fish for lunch (if we have enough), and fish for dinner. And one canned good every three days. Soon it will be one every five. Then once a week. Then fish all the time. Raw fish is the worst thing I have ever been forced to eat. I hated it at home, and I hate it even more now.
“Hey.” George called, snapping me out of my writing. He always talks too loud. He’s always acting as if I can’t hear him. He always is worst when he talks in his sleep.
I sighed. “Yes George?” I asked him, trying to put all my irritation and dislike in my voice. I don’t like him, he knows I don’t like him, but I often remind him so he won’t forget. The thing is, I think he honestly likes me, and he hopes I’ll one day like him. Good luck. He’s like the dog that pisses on the floor while hoping to win his owner’s love. Except that there’s nothing cute about George. He’s annoying incarnate.
“It looks like a storm’s coming.” He yelled at me. “I hope we can avoid it.”
“Thank you George.” I hate it when he states the obvious.
“No problem Jack.” He shouted.
I ground my teeth at this. He calls me Jack, but that’s not my name. I tell him that over and over, but he just smiles and says “To me, you’re Jack.”
I sighed and resumed writing.
I should probably state why I’m writing. My mind is a mess right now. I’ve gone through more personal horror than one man should have in a life time, and I just can’t deal with it right now. I’m hoping that, by writing my thoughts down, and the events on the Marriott, that cruise from hell, I may be able to make sense of this….
So the cruise. It was our honeymoon. Caitlyn and I. Not George, thank God. Anyways, it was bliss at first. I went all the way, first class. The food was amazing, the people all super nice, everything we wanted was taken care of. I have a feeling that we, as people who weren’t used to such luxury, stuck out like a sore thumb. However, the people treated us extremely well. It was paradise.
At least at first. Then I started a darker side to the boat. It started small, the smiles of the people turned from warm to sarcastic and mocking. I always felt watched. I talked with Cat about it, but she just laughed and scolded me. I felt silly, but the feelings persisted. I started to notice how people’s conversations stopped when we entered. I was sure they were all making fun of me. And then there was the man in the white tux that I could only see out of the corner of my eye. The man that hid from me, that followed me. He wa
“Jack!” George yelled at me. He was pulling on a line. “I think I got a big one!
I sighed and put the notepad in its waterproof container. Every time he catches a fish, he acts like a six-year-old trying to impress his father. “Can you handle it?”
“I think I need your help.” He said. Even though I hated fish, food was better than no food, so I slid over and helped him fight the fish.
“Man you’re right. That fish is big.” I said. He smiled at that. The idiot. I wasn’t praising him at all. Together, we were able to heave the behemoth in the boat. This fish was huge. It would feed us for over a week. George, so good with his hands, started to gut and prepare the fish while I went back to writing.
Things got weird two days before the ship sank. It was late at night and Cat and I were waltzing in the ballroom. I was having such a good time. Good times never last for me. As we were spinning round and round, I saw him again, the man in the white tux. I assumed he’d be gone the next time we spun around, but he was still there. That was the first time I had a good look at him. He was tall, with expensive design clothing. His hair was bright red, just ridiculous. I never liked the red hair. And his smile. I still hate it. I was as big and obnoxious as the planes that fly over my house back home. I disliked him at first sight.
And now he’s in the lifeboat with me. Just my luck.
Anyway, he was leaning on the doorway to the poop deck. I felt that I might’ve finally gotten some answers, so, with a quick apology to Cat, I sprinted after him. He just smiled, laughed and ran outside. I chased him, shouting and cursing. Around the boat we ran, through the games area, dining halls, kitchens. I kept on speeding up, but he always matched my pace. I got no closer, but he got no farther away. I was tiring when he suddenly turned into a passenger’s cabin and disappeared. I shouted in triumph and put on an extra burst of speed. There was only one way out of every passenger cabin. He was trapped!
I wrenched open the door and shouted “I got you!” I probably sounded like a kid playing hide and seek. But no one was there. NO ONE! I checked the bathroom, under the bed; everywhere he could have hidden himself. He was nowhere to be found. It was when I was looking through the closet when it hit me. This was our room! Cat and mine. This scared me more than I could say. I was sure I locked the door. But it opened for him. This had me fuming, groping for an answer while sitting on the bed. Then I thought I had it. Cat came here after dinner and before the dance, she must of forgotten to lock it again. Relieved with this flimsy story, I laid down on the bed, my thoughts were racing. I was trying to figure out who he was and how he got out of here. Then Cat came in and we
“Dinner’s ready!” George yelled at me. I winced. Did I mention how loud he is? I grabbed a foil plate and put a portion of fish on it. Our forks were filthy and tasted of saltwater. After the first meal we had we tried to wash them in the ocean. We lost a couple in the process, and the rest tasted terrible. So now we eat with our hands and leave the forks dirty. I winced as I took each bite and each time I inhaled, forced to smell and taste the fish. God I hate fish. Please send a boat. Please?
I’m sorry if my writing style is a little bit disorganized. I’m just putting down my thoughts and things may not be in a coherent order. So right now I’m in the mood to write about how this annoying asshole and I are ailing under the hot sun in the same boat.
Anyways, it was our final confrontation. I finally found him, trapped in the movie room, where there is only one exit. This ship had movies running constantly. Ironically, Titanic was playing. No one was there but him and I, probably because Titanic was playing. I asked him his name. He told me it was George, all the while smiling like he knew something that he found funny.
“Why are you following me?” I yelled over the move.
“I’m not,” He shouted, “You’re following me.”
“I’m only following you because I want to know why you’re following me.” I bellowed, anger rising. I hate smart asses.
“Maybe I’m only following you because I want to know why you’re following me. Came his quick reply. He grinned even wider.
I let out a scream of frustration. If anyone heard it, they would of thought it the scream of a possessed man. Or a man gone insane. Suddenly the ship rocked with a loud boom. It started screaming with me. I winced and plugged my ears. The anguished shrieks of tearing metal brought me to my knees. Such noise! Worse than My Cat is an Alien mixed with Sunn O))) and Nihilist Spasm Band at 10 000 db. I was sure my ears would bleed or my brain would explode. As I collapsed, I noticed George wasn’t affected.
Then it stopped. I forgot about George and went outside. People all over the place were screaming and running around. Some were pointing down into the water. I could see a huge shadow in the blue. Oh my God, we’ve hit an underwater mountain. A small, small bit poked out over the water. It had ripped a hole in our side that was half the length of the ship and water was coming in fast. We had maybe an hour to get off the ship.
A lifeboat was conveniently placed right in front of me. I couldn’t just leave Cat behind though. I started to run towards our cabin when George grabbed my arm and said “Where are you going? A boat’s right here.”
“I have to get Cat.” I said, desperation making my voice raw.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
This threw me. I was stunned. “Why?”
“I have personal interest in your safety.” He smiled. “And you should have personal interest in keeping me alive as well.” I shrugged at his cryptic answer and continued on to find my personal hell.
Cat…If I wasn’t so obsessed with this freak, you’d be alive right now and in the boat right now, instead of feeding the fish.
This gave me the unpleasant image of me eating a fish that ate Cat. My already queasy stomach, I hated small boats, turned over and I leaned over the side, retching. I returned to my seat and sighed. George sat there and laughed at me. I suddenly exploded and ranted at him for ten minutes.
When I was done, he just smiled and soothed “Jack, calm down.”
“MY NAME IS NOT FUCKING JACK!” I yelled at him.
“I never called you Fucking Jack.” He giggled shrilly. “Just Jack.”
With a scream of rage I grabbed the pistol and aimed at him pulling the trigger. Click, Click; the pistol was still broken. I hurled it into the sea with a sound of disgust and resumed my writing.
I am losing my mind. This asshole is pushing me over the edge…
I looked up at him, still he smiled. This actually surprised me. I mean, I just tried to kill him, and yet he still was smiling at me. He didn’t change in manner or appearance or in the way he acted towards me at all. He acted like it never happened. Like I never tried to kill him.
“Umm George?” I sighed, I didn’t want to ask, but I couldn’t resist. “Aren’t you afraid I might try and kill you?”
“Why would I be afraid of that?” He made it sound like the most ludicrous idea in the whole world.
“Maybe because I just tried to kill you.” I said sarcastically. His grin broadened. I narrowed my eyes. “I did try to kill you…?”
“I don’t think you did.” He shrugged. “At least I don’t remember the event.”
“I definitely tried to kill you.” My panic rang in my voice. I looked for the pistol, and it was still in the exact same place it was before I threw it. I stared at it in horror. This made no sense. I couldn’t comprehend how this small thing, this looming anathema that skewed everything I knew, would be here. I grabbed the gun, handling it like I would a dead animal, and I threw it into the salty maw of the ocean, praying all the while. Once it was gone, and there was no sign of it on the boat, I resumed writing.
Maybe I am losing my mind. It wouldn’t surprise me now, considering what I’ve been through.
I ran past the ballroom, past the kitchen, past all the places that made me happy, past the very same places that made me paranoid. All of the passengers were milling about, screaming in terror. It might have been funny to watch if the situation wasn’t so serious. I shoved through them, George still following me. My fear and frustration made me push through the crowd without noticing any of them, any stubbed toes or elbows to the head. My mind and heart was someplace else. I had to get to Cat. People were filing into the lifeboats; the tide was trying to push me in too. I set my body, heart, and soul against the force and continued on. I was soon at our cabin. It was unlocked. I hoped this meant she was inside.
No luck. This almost broke my heart. I had no idea what to do now. I wouldn’t give up because of this though, that I knew. I gamely threw opened the door and entered the race for survival a second time.
“Does this mean we’re getting into a lifeboat now?” George inquired.
I glared at him. “No” We continued running around, I was hoping to find her by complete chance. That’s when I remember she was having a massage downstairs. I jumped down all the flights, fighting every person that tried to go the other way. I ran to the spa, but no one was there.
I screamed in hopeless pain, the scream of a condemned man. I had no idea what to do. In desperation, I called Caitlyn’s name as loud as I could.
Then I heard an angel’s voice reply, my salvation called me. She was somewhere on this floor! I almost flew. It sounded like she was just around the corner.
A loud snore interrupted my memories. I glared at the unconscious George, just as annoying asleep as he is awake, as he mumbles about his dad. At least he’s quiter in his sleep.
He talks about the weirdest things when he’s asleep. I don’t like what he says. It freaks me out. One night, he “told” me about how he killed a dog, a big black dog who smiled at him until he started to beat it to death. This scared me beyond belief. I had a black lab named Jennifer in my teens, and one night I went outside to find out she was dead. Beaten to death. Jenni definitely was the type of dog who’d get friendly with any stranger. Has he followed me my whole life? What’s wrong with him!? I asked him about the dog the next day, and he told me he never killed a dog, in fact he loves dogs, he has one, and he never would hurt him. He should me a picture of his dog too, a small Spaniel. All with his annoying knowing smile.
I put my pen and pad in the case and tried to go to sleep, ignoring the snores and the up and down motion of the boat. I hate water. I almost drowned when my dad threw me into a pool, and I feared it ever since. I tried talking to him about it recently, but the man’s gone. The lights are on, but nobody’s home. Its like talking to a wall.
“Let me out.” George muttered. “Let me out!!!” He cried out in pain and loneliness. “Please, why is it so dark. He’s gone now, you can let go of me. TALK TO ME!!!” He started moaning and mumbling and sighing. I stared at him, unable to decide if I should wake him, let him suffer, or throw him over the edge. He went silent though, so I let him sleep.
I had weird dreams that night. Stuff that seemed like memories that you had forgotten, but were trying to find. Intangible, unable to take shape for more than a second. A dream about my dad. A dream about my dog late at night, a dream about darkness. The last scared me beyond all measure.
When I woke up, George was already grabbing breakfast. He saw me rise and smiled. “Guess what Jack, its Can-Day!” With that he hurled me two cans and a biscuit. The cans held spam in them, or a weird jelly. Even so, they tasted heavenly, especially compared to the fish. And the biscuit. It cannot be described how good a real pastry tastes after a week of fish.
I resumed writing.
So I found her in a large room. I’m not sure what it was, that wasn’t the important part. I found her. One of the walls was busted, sharp bits of metal rods and jagged pieces of wall stuck out of a gaping hole. But she was there and safe.
“Cat!” I was enthusiastic, euphoric, over the moon. She’s safe.
“George, you’ve found me.” Her smile probably echoed mine.
I noticed my paper is running out. I bit my tongue in frustration. “Soon I won’t be able to write.” For some reason, I felt that it didn’t really matter. So I resumed writing.
“Help me!” Cat screamed!” I was confused, even still am confused as I’m writing this. George got behind her somehow, and has a gun pointed at her head. I made a move and he pointed his gun at me.
“No” He ordered, smiling.
“George, what are you doing?” I exclaimed. “I thought you wanted to help me.”
“I want to keep you alive.” Came his cold reply. “She doesn’t need to survive.” I cried out, hoping to dissuade him.
Then he pushed her.
My God, he pushed her into the spikes.
“AAAUUUUGGHH!!!” My cry of anguish would have made the bravest man run. An echoing pound of thunder made it seem all the more extreme. And I had run out of paper.
“What’s up Jack?” George inquired, smiling, as always.
“You!” I screamed at him, pouring all my hatred into it. I realized how out of context my answer was to the question. The fact that he was quiet now while I was the one yelling was an irony that did not escape me as well. He was speaking so quietly I could barely hear him over the storm.
The storm.
It hit us. The waves were huge, however, they were still bell-shaped and unlikely to tip us over. But the rain was pouring down, mixing with my tears. The thunder echoed my sobs. It was so dark because of the clouds that I could only see George’s face when the lightning flared. He was STILL FUCKING SMILING!!!
“You killed her!” I screamed at him. “You pushed her into the wall” The wall that impaled her. I could see the skewered body of my beloved, her eyes pleading with me, while a blood-covered steel tongue protruded from her mouth. Another ram through her stomach, and one last one through her throat. I cried out and looked around the boat. Suddenly, the gun was in its position again. I didn’t care why this time, it would be my salvation. I grabbed it and thrust it into the air pulling the trigger.
The gun fired off, a short crack of thunder. I grinned maliciously at him and aimed, my sight sure, my arm steady. “WHY DID YOU KILL HER AND DRAG ME ON THIS HELLBOAT??!”
“Jack…” He dared to call me that now. And he was trying to reassure me, to calm me down!
“MY NAME,” I yelled, cocking the pistol. “IS NOT FUCKING JACK”
“Okay, okay…” He stammered. I’m glad he’s finally acting afraid.
Then he started laughing.
“WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING??!!” I howled, like a lost wolf looking for its pack.
“I didn’t kill her.” He retorted. “You did”
“NO!” I cried out, my chest heaving. “ I loved her, I never would…” My voice trailed off.
“You hated her.” He cut in. “ She bossed you around, she treated you like crap, she mad fun of you for your fear of the other patrons on the boat. You loathed her and you killed her. What’s your name?”
“My name, why would you want.”
“Just say it…”
I paused.
“SAY IT”
“George!” I spat it out and closed my eyes.
“I,” He said with a bow, “Am a manifestation of the memories you tried to hide, the memories you wanted to forget. You killed your dog, you were stuck in the dark in that asylum for it, and you killed your wife. I’m surprised that you can hide the memories so easily for so long. I’m YOU, you pathetic schizoid. And I don’t exist. Isn’t that neat?” Each of the memories flashed before my eyes as he said it. Me, grinning, as I pushed Cat, her look of surprise and non-understanding more than anything, my dog, happy to see me until I clubbed it, the dark padded room of the asylum. It was true.
“Oh God, oh God….” I moaned, falling to my knees.
"God’s not going to help you…”
I shot him.
Excerpt from the New York Times
On October 28, three months after the cruise liner the Marriott sank, a single lifeboat has been found. It’s sole occupant has been dead for a week, and can be recognized as a Mr. George Owen, a young man who was on his honeymoon with Caitlyn Owen. It appears he shot himself in the head. He probably resorted to suicide over grief, exposure to the elements, and lack of company. He was found in Mexico.
That's it.
if this should be rated anything besides pg-13, tell me so quickly. And please critique.
and the three bands I mentioned. My cat is an alien and Nihilist spasm bands are noise bands. the other (Sunn O)))) is a drone metal band. Listening to these three at the same time would probably be the most painful audio experience ever.
