Young Writers Society

Cleona sighed. "Because you'll end up back here one way or another. I've tried it. If you can tell me how to end this, I will. I don't. know. how."

Queenie watched her, thought for a moment, sighed.

"So now we join the crew. What then? When do things get bad?"

If she had to be here, if she couldn't wake up, she would want to know when to expect the worst. She counted her weapons. She was always unarmed in her nightmares, it was some small comfort to find that untrue here.

Gun. One.

Knives. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Poison?

She checked her hands. No rings. That made sense, Briar wasn't here.

Her thoughts switched languages. She needed practice in Arabic, and thinking in a foreign language was a comforting distraction.

She waited for her answer.

"Things get bad in three days. We'll all have time to prepare." Cleona said, shifting her knives.

Having been forced onto the ship, Carter quickly separated himself from the rest of the dream team and headed down to find the quartermaster. If the sailors in this time were anything like the ones in his own he wouldn’t want to be upstairs.

And knowing what he knew about whales and whale hunting, down below didn’t sound great either.

He passed a young sailor fighting with another his age. Carter brushed them off without a thought, but quickly turned back when he heard a shout. The first sailor had been thrown to the ground as the second pulled at his shirt. At the sound of fabric ripping, it was followed by a solid thud as Carter’s fist landed in the sailor’s jaw.

“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size and get your a** upstairs with the rest of those vermin?”

The sailor made no move at first. He slowly got up from the floor, threw a mock salute, and scurried away with the rest of the rats.

Carter turned his attention to the sailor leaning against the hull. He pulled the man up further and asked, “Are you alright?”
He got no answer from the sailor as well.
“What? Am I on a ship full of mutes?”
He raised his hand to run it through his hair, suddenly remembering it was packed down with grease.
“Sir, as long as you don’t hit me, I’ll give you whatever you want and tell you whatever you want.”

The Creature, who had been quite content in waiting in the shadows until the right moment, had come to realize that there might have been a flaw in that plan. Even they wouldn't go towards the shadows unless it was tied to the greater scheme of the nightmare.

It was just as The Creature was exiting said shadows that the flaws in said plan became apparent.

The Creature had become so caught up in scheming and lurking that the presences of the sailor and dreamer had slipped underneath the metaphorical radar: by the time that this flaw came to The Creature's attention, the sailor in question had gone frightfully pale and wasted absolutely no time in darting off to some other part of the ship.

The Creature - now at full height and out of the shadows - stared down at the dreamer with emotionless white eyes.

Cleona's hands shook. She grabbed a knife, whipping it out. She flicked her wrist, and the blade extended, becoming a sword. "What the hell are you?" She asked.

Queenie got sick of this conversation. She wandered off, going to explore the hull of this presumably doomed ship and being sure to go somewhere that boy, whatever his name was, hadn't. She didn't want to have to talk to these people more than she had to.

It was dark down there, unsafely lit by lanterns and unsafely overpopulated by sailors. Weaving between the hammocks and busy-looking crew members was a task in itself. The nuisance of curious eyes followed her occasionally down into the depths of the ship, but she didn't bother to check if she was being followed. This was a dream, after all. Anything killed here wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

With a smile, she realized what the meant. No rules.

No rules, no punishments for breaking them.

She glanced around, wondering what she could do with that new freedom.

Nothing.

Yet.

((Jumped ahead, sorry!! @Magestorrow.)))


Cleona followed Carter down below. She jumped against the wall as a sailor rushed past her, holding his face in his hand. She shook her head and resumed walking, when she heard something. She turned, and saw the.....the....thing. She drew her knife, flicking her wrist and the blade extended. "What the hell are you?" She asked, her voice tight.

The Creature stared.

And then - in a failed attempt to get away from the knife - The Creature backed right up into the low-slung doorway of the closest room, a dull aching blossoming from where impact had been made.

A clawed hand went back to rub the spot.

"Ouch," The Creature said - voice low, vaguely inhuman and definitely whining. "That hurt."

Then The Creature remembered that was the very real threat of the knife, and went back to staring at the two dreamers. The Creature wasn't new to threats, but few of the people who had issued them in the past had actual weapons.

In the space of a few seconds, Carter saw the sailor scurry, the shadow appear and the blade pass by his head. The shadow fell into the corner and that damn girl kept her blade up, intensifying the situation by the moment.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?”
He turned to the girl and continued, “Put that goddam thing down right this instant.”
And to the shadow lurking in the corner, “I’m sure I already know the answer to this, but baby, do you come here often?”

The Creature stared.

Then warmth spread across shadowy cheeks, though not a single blush appeared to betray The Creature's reaction. Screaming and running was the usual response. Fighting was a little less likely. But The Creature had never been flirted with in a dream like this.

...Or any dream, now that The Creature thought about it.

"I don't," The Creature replied. There was a pause, and then a flustered, "But I do come to dreams often. I can't help it."

As The Creature spoke, the rows of sharp teeth and the long, rough tongue were clearly noticeable. The Creature didn't mean to show them off, but it wasn't like that kind of thing was optional.

Carter breathed a short sigh of relief from the shift in the energy of the room. From the girl's corner, whose name he should really learn, it was still tense. But the mysterious shadow had changed its pace to being nervous.

This was just the window he needed.

He stepped closer to the shadow with a row of glinting teeth and a nearly bashful face. It seemed like they were trying to remain calm, but failing in the confusion.

"Then perhaps you saw me taking care of that sailor and wondered if I would give the same treatment to you."

Queenie had somehow managed to loop her way around to where the others were.

She took in the scene before her from a distance back, yet unnoticed, and tried to make sense of it. Then she gave up. What's-his-name was flirting with a....what was that thing?

She shook her head and watched, deciding to let this play out. If those two died, they died. No loss to her.

Cleona didn't put her blade away, but she lowered it slightly and clamped her teeth together. In spite of the situation, what Carter was doing made her want to bust out laughing. "Why are you even here? You aren't my creation." She said, not looking at Carter.