Young Writers Society

The captain thought his dazzling new ship was invincible as it sailed across the North Atlantic. He was sure of it. He might have been right, too, had the vessel not been named the Titanic. But alas, we all know how the story ends.

The Captain stood in the control room, hands on the helm. He looked through the wide window, admiring the rays of sunlight against the sapphire-blue sky. At the bottom of his vision, adults sun-baked on the deck and children threw colourful balls to each other. The scent of a Sunday roast penetrated the walls. He heard a cry of delight and saw a woman pointing at a blur of red and green in the water, a school of fish passing by. All was perfect. His passengers were thrilled. Word of the Titanic would spread and he’d be a rich man.

If only that were true.

The school of fish jerked to the right, making a ninety degree turn as if they’d hit a force-field. Yet the ship streamlined through the water. The captain began whistling, enjoying the calm sea and mid-day sun. His mind drifted away to thoughts of lunch, of tender lamb and gravy, of crispy potatoes and carrots...

He didn’t notice the island until it was too late to turn back. And the captain didn’t want to turn back.

He gripped onto the helm with anticipation, tilting forwards on his toes for a better look. It wasn’t like the rocky barrier one would normally see, this island was lime-green, its grass shining golden in the sun. There were flowers scattered on its surface, dots of red and pink and blue. He could almost smell their alluring scent. A single oak tree sat in the middle of the island, its roots reaching out to sea.

The captain didn’t care about the beauty of the island, though. It was the figures which sat on the tree roots which enthralled him: sirens. Female, with flowing hair and bare chests. Instead of legs they boasted fishtails, their scales sparkling like diamonds.

As the Titanic was steered closer, they swayed their hips and moved their lips, conducting a sweet melody which drove the captain mad with lust.

The magical tune skipped across the water’s ripples, entering the ears of every man aboard the Titanic. They flocked to the front deck, pushing each other aside to get a better view of the beautiful singers. Even the captain abandoned the control room and joined the crowd below. Those at the front leant over the edge, reaching for the women. Some were pushed overboard as others fought for their spot, but they didn’t scream, the men just listened to the music as they entered watery graves.

As the first man hit the water, sending a spray of ocean salt on his bewitched companions, one of the fish-tailed women jumped from the root she was sprawled on. Her long, gold hair trailed behind her as she dived into the ocean, swimming straight for his drowning form. The man, already turning blue, stretched his arms up to her as he sunk deeper. The siren’s pearly hands interlaced with his and their lips met in a blissful kiss. She didn’t stop, and opened her jaws further to reveal a row of knife-sharp canines. Within a second the man’s face turned into a blur of shredded skin and blood, and the carnivorous woman discarded him like rubbish, off to find her next victim.

Meanwhile, the Titanic, left to its own devices, veered ever closer to the island. In only minutes it would crash onto the grassy shore and become tangled amongst the oak roots and flowers.

The woman and children knew something was wrong. Their husbands, fathers and brothers had all left them mid-conversation, mid-game and mid-luncheon to venture to the front of the ship. But the more pressing problem was the island. Beautiful as it was, the woman knew it would be their doom should the ship continue in its course.

The alluring song was silent to them, all the women could hear was their own shouts of desperation. The sirens themselves were invisible. All they could see was the island with its poison-green grass and the oak with its roots reaching threateningly towards the vessel.

At the time of this chaotic event, little Verity was below deck with her parents. Only six years old, she sat on the carpet, scribbling in a complimentary colouring book whilst her mother and father finished their lunch.

“I wonder if you’d accompany me to the Captain’s ball tonight, Alexandra?” Her father asked.

“I’d be delighted.” Her mother giggled, cheeks rosy. Verity loved it when her parents spoke like that, as if they were the only two people in the world and nothing could draw their attention away from each other.

“What time will you be ready?”

“Eight o’clock, I suppose.”

Verity stopped colouring and watched as her father raised his eyebrows. “Eight in the evening?”

“I have to make myself beautiful, dear.” The woman held her fork half-way to her mouth and stared at Verity’s father, expecting him to say something.

Verity had listened in on their conversations often enough to know he was meant to reply, but you’re already beautiful! Yet he remained silent.

“Richard?” Her mother put her fork down.

“Daddy?” He was staring through the ceiling, completely unaware of their voices. “Daddy?” His daughter’s words meant nothing to him, all he could hear was the enchanting tune of the sirens. Their music stirred a desire within, his heart pounded, his feet started tapping against the floor. He couldn’t stay still, he wanted to follow the music.

When the man started foaming at the mouth, pieces of potato dribbling down his chin, Alexandra dropped her fork and ran to his side. “Richard!” She gripped her husband’s shoulders. “Are you alright? Should I ring the doctor?”

Verity’s eyes widened and she jumped up from the carpet. She ran to the wall-phone, intending to dial the number her mother had drilled into her: the doctor on Main Street. Of course that number was useless aboard the Titanic, in the middle of the ocean. But even if it had connected her to the ship’s medical room, no one would have answered. The doctor had already fallen overboard and been ripped to shreds by the carnivorous women.

Richard sprang from his chair, pushing his wife to the ground. He let out a beastly roar, a sound of lustful longing which rumbled from the bottom of his throat. Then he crashed through the cabin door and disappeared from sight.

“Mummy!” Verity clutched onto the mother, trying to pull her from the ground. The little girl, just six years old, was so confused, so scared.

“I’m alright.” The woman pulled Verity into a hug, hiding the tears which trickled down her cheeks.

The ship jerked and Verity’s mother tightened her grip. The two females heard a creaking sound, then a loud crash as the vessel tipped off balance and they were sent sliding across the floor into the table.

Verity felt a seasickness bubbling in the tummy, and covered her ears as screams echoed down the hall. Her mother gripped onto the table edge and pulled herself up, the ship rocking as if they’d sailed into a storm. “What’s happening?” The little girl asked as she too climbed to her feet.

Alexandra’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t hear what was said because the ship’s alarms burst to life, pounding in her young ears. The air turned cold, the lights flickered. She saw her mother’s teary eyes and knew something was dreadfully wrong.

The ship rocked violently again and Verity wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist to keep from falling over. She felt something wet lick her ankles and the scent of the Sunday roast was replaced by that of salt and seaweed.

“We’ve got to get out!” Her mother shouted over the alarm, pulling Verity towards the door.

The hallway had turned into a miniature river, sea water trickling down the walls and forming puddles on the floor. There were other women and children outside, sloshing through the water, holding their hands to steady them as they headed for the stairs. Verity and her mother joined the crowd.

The lights went out and the passengers collectively held their breaths. The only thing visible was the flickering exit sign.

Alexandra felt desperate hands latch onto her, and she followed suit, placing one hand on her daughter. The other she reached out in front of her, gripping onto a stranger’s blouse.

Working together, the women and children pushed through the darkness to the stairs, trying to ignore the blaring alarm and creaking of the ship, trying not to freeze with shock as the water rose to their knees.

On the deck, a boy was tugging at his father’s shirt. “We’ve got to go, daddy! We’ve got to go!” He was one of the many companions and family members who were desperately trying to pull their men from the sirens’ trance.

“Lester!” He heard his mother’s shout amongst the cacophony of screams, but didn’t answer. He wouldn’t leave his father aboard the sinking ship. And it was sinking fast.

The Titanic had rammed into the blossoming island, a cloud of flower petals and grass cuttings raining down on the deck upon impact. Lester had gripped onto a rail as it had happened, and watched as a large portion of the men fell overboard onto the magical pasture. The ship’s alarm had started then, making his ears ache, and his mother had run for the lifeboats. His father wasn’t at all startled by the collision, though. He’d picked himself off the floor and raced back to the edge, reaching towards a great oak tree.

“Please, daddy!” Lester tugged at the man’s shirt, thinking that if he let go, his father would surely jump overboard.

The little boy jumped in fright when the face of a devil peered up from the edge of the floorboards. His hands instinctively let go of the material and flew to shield his eyes from the nightmare. It skin was green, not like the magical fields but green like an evil witch. Its eyes burned red, and instead of hair it wore a wig of kelp. Just before his hands had blocked his vision, Lester had seen a set of shark teeth, sharp enough to rip a man in two.

A horrible realisation came to the boy, and he lowered his hands. Luckily the demonic creature was gone… but so was his father.

He heard a loud screech and the shadow of the tree moved across the deck as the Titanic sunk further. He wobbled as the ship began tipping on its side, and would have fallen had two arms not wrapped around his waist, lifting him up.

“Verity, quickly!” Alexandra called to her daughter as hauled the little boy through the chaos. Water was spraying into her face, kicked up by the pounding feet of hundreds of desperate passengers, all trying to get to crowd in the lifeboats.

Verity ran in front, trying to push her way through. She didn’t know what was happening. Her ear drums felt about the burst; the alarm kept wailing and people kept screaming. Her feet were throbbing; they’d been trodden on countless times. Her skin was cold, and the sea water had already risen to the deck and was clawing at her shins.

She didn’t know where her father was. Lots of other children were looking for their fathers too, but there was only a small group of men towards the front of the vessel. They frightened Verity, foam trickled down their chins and their eyes raged with desire.

The Titanic had crashed into an island that wasn’t meant to be there, and she couldn’t understand why there were flowers and an oak tree in the middle of the ocean. When the legs and waists moved out of her way, Verity could see red patches on the grass and in the water, she could see some men swimming in the sea. It didn’t make any sense. She wanted to get away, and she knew the boats were the only way.

Alexandra dropped the struggling boy over the the railing into the last boat. He was caught by a young blonde-haired women, crammed amidst at least twenty other women and children.

“I’ve got to find my daddy!” His hands clawed at the air, but the woman held him firmly to her bosom.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Lester!” she howled. “Your papa already did that!”

There were inumerous numbers of passengers still climbing onto the deck, but the nineteen out of twenty lifeboats had already dropped into the ocean, filled over their intended capacity. They bobbed a little lower in the water than they should have, and threatened to sink as hands grabbed onto their sides, using the boats to stay afloat.

Alexandra could see so many bodies in the water, most of them flailing, screaming for help, holding onto various pieces of furniture. Some bodies were soulless and filled with water, others were the corpses were men. A shiver ran down her spine as she saw how they were ripped to shreds, the water around them a halo of red.

Alexandra wouldn’t let her daughter become one of those bodies. That one lifeboat, dangling from the ship, was their last chance. She pushed Verity’s shaking form towards the edge. “Now you!”

The little girl looked below, there was at least a three metre drop to safety. She wrapped her arms around her mother, trying to absorb her bravery.

A large woman catapulted over the deck, almost pulling Verity with her. The passengers in the lifeboat shouted curses as she toppled towards them, narrowly missing the craft and splashing into the sea.

“We can’t take anymore!” Someone yelled.

“Lower it down!” Shrieked another.

A mechanical sound filled Alexandra’s ears, the dire turning of gears blocking out the blaring alarm, desperate screams, and creaking of the dying ship. She thrust Verity over the edge, her grip on her daughter’s arm all that was keeping her from falling overboard.

“Don’t leave without us! My daughter!” She screamed, her tears mixing with the seaspray.

An older woman cupped her hands to her mouth as she replied. “There just ain’t room! You’ll sinkez all!”

“Here!” The young blonde one, Lester’s mother, raised her arms. “I’ll catch her!” The old woman waved a hand in defeat, and the other mothers aboard the lifeboat formed a net for Verity.

“Mummy?” The little girl looked into Alexandra’s watery eyes. She was pulled into ardent embrace, feeling her mother’s warmth enveloping her as the cold water soaked her clothes. She held tight on her mother’s blouse, refusing to let go.

“Verity.” Alexandra pressed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, and pulled the girl away. The sheer strength of her fists around the girl’s wrists left a white imprint on Verity’s skin, a scar of their parting that would never heal. “You have to live. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, mummy!” She tried to grab the woman’s arms to pull them back around her, but Alexandra was unfastening a chain from her neck.

“Never forget me.” She passed the locket under her daughter’s hair, pressing the clasp into place.

The cranking of the gears halted to a stop, the lifeboat was lowered.

“Hurry!” The blonde woman shouted. Any second now the vessel would begin floating away.

“I love you.” Alexandra pushed her whole world over the railing, and watched with the deepest grief and strongest relief as her daughter landed safely in the lifeboat. A splash of saltwater sprayed her face as Verity made impact, and Alexandra was knocked to her knees as the Titanic rolled on its side.

The ocean loomed closer, and Alexandra saw a sea of murder. Blood, guts, petrified faces frozen at the point of death. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Richard floating amongst a cluster of bodies. He was as pale as the iceberg they’d sailed past earlier and he was missing an arm.

She crawled across the wooden boards, voluntarily fell into the water, and swam towards him. She reached out, gripping onto her husband’s torn shoulder.

“She’s safe,” Alexandra whispered, and wrapped her arms round him, replacing his missing limb.

With a final creak, the Titanic met its doom. The vast ship scraped against the impossible island, its grass no longer green but a sickening red. The roots of the oak tree brushed against the metal sides of the ship as it settled to the bottom of the ocean, the truth of its final moments dying with it.

Alexandra met death peacefully with the knowledge that Verity would live. She floated with her love, the two of them connected as one. The orange hues of sunset heralded her final breath, and the waters embraced her.

When the lifeboat finally ended its journey across the North Atlantic Ocean, Verity told all who would listen about the Titanic’s last minutes of life. She described the impossible island with its green grass, colourful flowers and great oak tree. She told them about the possessed men, the way her father foamed at the mouth and pushed her mother. She treasured the locket, making sure everyone knew of Alexandra’s heroism.

No one doubted her mother’s love, but they refused to accept the remainder of her story. They said such islands could not exist, that men would never become so irrational. They said the shock and stress and had damaged the mind. They believed her story was all a fantasy, written by Verity’s imagination.

And, after receiving treatment for her fantasies, that’s what Verity believed too.