Young Writers Society

"My worst fear is not classical literature. It is Moby Dick and Heart of the sea combined, because it is really freaking scary." Cleona said. "A Whale that kills, sinks and destroys and entire ship and crew! Who live on life boats for months and....and...." She shook her head. "You'll see." Cleona turned to the newcomer. "Who are you?"

Awkwardly grinning, Taber took a step back, almost running into Thytes. Carter sounded just a tad blunt, but the wolf could work with that. Maybe. "Um, I'm not a punk," Taber said to Carter. "Don't you remember me? From that creepy abandoned restaurant?"

Leaning against the nearest lamp post, Carter sighed while taking another drag off of his cigarette. He had been bouncing through parallel universes and different timelines for the past few years. This wolf would have to be more specific about a creepy abandoned restaurant.

"I know it might be hard to believe, Taber," he paused with a mischievous grin and asked, "it is Taber, isn't it, before I go anywhere else with this."

He turned to the girl still standing waiting for an answer and couldn't decide about which one he wanted to give her.
"Carter Lincoln. Sheriff's Department of Convington County, Alabama."

Both of Cleona's eyebrows shot up. This guy was not going to have an easy time here. "Cleona. Welcome to my nightmare. Sorry I don't have a red carpet out for y'all." She looked up as the sun peeked over the horizon. "We need to go. Soon."

Queenie turned to Cleona, "Go where?"

If she visited the same 'safe place' in her nightmares every time, Queenie would wager a guess that it would be best to avoid such places. Anywhere frequented by the owner of the nightmare wasn't likely to be safe in any way.

"Um, it's not really hard to believe?" Taber said, gradually trailing off as he continued to talk. "Because I've had stuff like this happen a lot and I've run into the same people a few times before, so this is kinda ordinary, I guess?"

Thytes set a paw on the wolf's shoulder when the wolf paused to catch his breath. "Well, nice as it is to see you again, Carter, we had all best stop talking about where we met each other and get going," the lion said, voice slightly unsteady (which made Taber feel a tad calmer - neither of them knew quite what to say around Carter). "Wherever we need to, which I am sure the owner of this dream will be happy to tell us."

Cleona shook her head. "There is no place that is safe. We either go to the meeting house or straight to the Essex." She looked at each one directly before continuing. "Because if you don't go straight onto the Essex, you will end up on it no matter what you do, and the longer you wait, the more brutal the trip onto the Essex is." She took a deep breath, steadying her heart rate. "I don't remember the Captain's name, but the first mate is Owen Chase. The work is hard, long and dangerous. This is a whaling ship in Victorian London."

"Could you define more brutal?" Thytes said. "If we have no better options, I would rather go to the Essex immediately, but I would like to know how going to the meeting house could end poorly for us."

Carter nearly choked on his own cigarette smoke while hearing the girl explain the situation. The details weren't quite matching up. It was only a few things, but just enough for him to question the situation they were going through.

At least the group was stuck in someone else's nightmare.

While trying to find a nice way to question the running story, he asked, "Are you sure we're in Victorian London? And if we are, has the Essex become a ghost ship?" Under his breath, Carter continued, "It wouldn't be a complete ghost ship of the Essex without ghosts of the starving tortoises."

Queenie looked to Cleona and awaited an answer. She didn't mind brutality. She was rather accustomed to it. After all, The Reaper wasn't always a clean killer. Neither was Queenie, but she could never bring herself to commit any of the absolutely soulless acts that that girl was known for.

"The Essex has not become a ghost ship! I just call this Victorian London because of the house style." Cleona started walking to the docks. "However many of us are good with weapons, especially knives, will be chosen as Harpooners. Just a heads up."

Queenie rolled her eyes, "You better hope that's not true," she said, internally counting her weapons, "'else we may have to test that little urban legend about dying in a dream."

"It's true. I end up as a harpooner every time." She stopped and eyed the girl. "So will you. As far as dying, I have no idea."

She frowned, "I'm better with guns and explosives. Knives are an intimidation weapon, better for inflicting pain than they are for actually killing."

Cleona stopped, turned, and looked directly at the girl. "Do you have any idea of what a harpoon is, how to use it, and what it looks like?" Her gaze traveled. "Any of you? Do any of you even have a passing familiarity with where we are, what is happening, and what is going to happen? It's my nightmare, but the story is basically the same."