The Island, the Woman, and the Dragon

This is not the finished product. I will add much more to it, so don't panic when you get to the end.

A crow’s nest is an interesting contraption. On a pleasant evening, it can be the safest place on the ship. If the hull were to be punctured and the craft sent down to unknown depths of the darkest ocean, the crow’s nest would not only be the very last to sink, but, due to an ingenious modification, the round sort of half-barrel could be detached and made to float as a kind of primordial life raft. However, when the ship and its crew found itself plunged into a storm, the Acheron had no other alternative than to maintain its heading in south-easterly direction.

Wilhelm Kuch was powerless in the Acheron’s crow’s nest which, out of the worst luck, was one of the worst places to be when the ship began taking sixty-foot waves. Water battered him from every direction, enormous pellets that struck him like rocks. The ship was rocking so furiously in a useless attempt at staying buoyant that Wilhelm constantly lost his sense of direction, feeling like he was floating in a space not connected to the ship at all. He managed to stumble drunkenly to the edge where he leaned over to witness an enormous commotion down below. Commands were being shouted through the rain to tighten things and let things over the edge. But most words were carried by the wind overboard.

A sailor for three years, Wilhelm had only once succumbed to sea sickness, and that was in his early days, back when something as simple as fixing up the mooring lines was beyond him. Now an able seaman, good looking and charming, he had thought he could withstand anything the ocean threw at him, but he acquired a new revelation as his insides fell victim to the raging storm. Maybe a life at sea wasn’t the best idea after all, he thought, suddenly regretting his decision those three years ago.

Wilhelm had long since collapsed his copper looking glass and stuffed it into the folds of his jacket. Now the cool metal pressed against his skin and chilled him almost as much as the freezing rain.

The first crack of thunder was enough for Wilhelm to crack open his eyes, despite his natural instinct to protect them from rain and wind. The storm had come in the darkness of night, making the sky even blacker and blotting out the stars. The few lanterns still lit down below hardly made it through enough of the darkness to reach Wilhelm in his crow’s nest, so when the next flash of lightning came and caught the world in white brilliance, Wilhelm discovered himself momentarily blind. He clutched onto the mast that poked through the bottom of the crow’s nest and there he waited out the rest of the storm, squeezing his eyes tightly and trying to distract himself from the great turmoil that threatened to tear his existence apart by making out coiling shapes beneath his eyelids. He thought he saw a dragon.

 

Morning came. Wilhelm awoke to find himself on the floor still wrapped around the mast. Had he passed out? Had the storm simply been a dream? He scooped himself up into a kneeling position and had the strangest feeling. Where was the rocking? The sounds of a ship in the daylight? Surely the Captain would be giving out orders with his wild and gruff voice, storm or no storm. He pushed against the mast for support as he stood up and to his horror, the entire thing began to tip over. For a moment, Wilhelm was struck with vertigo as he pictured a hundred foot topple into the sea. However, Wilhelm was met with hot sand instead of air.

Where was the Acheron?

The ship and its crew was nowhere to be seen. The crow’s nest alone sat, a sentinel, on a beach. A few hundred yards of sand ended in a tree line of some strange tropical breed Wilhelm had never seen before. Beyond that, a mountain of sharp, craggy gray rock shot up into the sky. The air was warm and dry, so Wilhelm removed most of his clothes except for his trousers, folded them by the decapitated crow’s nest and set off to explore the island in the hope of finding his fellow crew members, or at least some remain of the Acheron. The looking glass dropped from inside the coat and fell with a muffled thump onto the sand.

He was sure shock would hit him soon. It had too. Wilhelm wandered through the sand wondering when he would break down into tears, collapse to the ground and lay there, boiling, until the heat took him. As it was, his feet trailed through the sand as if they were too large and too heavy for him. His jaw hung slightly open and his hands rubbed his shoulders in an odd attempt at comforting himself.

The Acheron was in such an odd position, at first, Wilhelm thought it might be a mirage and he was, at last, going insane. However, once he walked into the shadow of it and his head cleared somewhat, he was able to decipher reality.

The ship stuck straight out of the sand, bow first, towering upwards. It created an immense shadow that covered the beach and an indistinguishable distance beyond the trees. Even now, it groaned with the effort of staying upright. Enormous cracks and holes had formed among the hull from the force of impact, giving the whole thing an accordion-like appearance. One of the sails had ripped away and settled on the trees. It rippled feebly, marking the grave of the Acheron.

Wilhelm felt panic coming on. Was the crew dead? He looked around the site and noticed a crate covered in blood. A few patches of crimson were distinguishable from the dim yellow of the sand. It wasn’t exactly a massacre, but to Wilhelm, it might as well have been. He let loose a long and sad moan and fell to his knees.

“What’s with you?”

Wilhelm jumped to his feet, startled by voice. It came from an old man with long white hair and beard. His clothes were in tatters and his face was slightly bruised, but what truly gave him a start was the man had no left arm. His sleeve ended in a bloody knot near the elbow. Wilhelm looked closer and squinted his eyes through the light. “First Mate Dodger. . . .” he whispered, realization dawning on him as he spoke the First Mate’s name.

“Wilhelm? Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. The rest of the crew figured you’d been carried off . . . by the storm, you see? Nasty one, wasn’t it?” his voice was gruff, and only through three years of acquaintance could Wilhelm distinguish Dodgers words.

“Have you seen the ship?” Wilhelm exclaimed. “Where is the crew? Do we at least know where we are?”

“Not a clue where we are . . . storm tossed us for miles. Could be east, could be west, could be up, could be down. Nobody has two cents worth of an idea where we are, hell, that storm could’ve launched us through time. Ha! We could be in the future! A time not of our own!” Dodger continued to ramble like that for some time, until another being stumbled out of the woods.

“Wilhelm. . . .” Said a hopeful voice. It was a young boy, hair as blonde as the sand and face still pinkish with adolescence. He strode over with an enormous grin and an armful of round yellow fruits.

“Jack, I see you survived as well. Good. Perhaps you can explain what’s going on.” Wilhelm said, shooting a glance at Dodger who was mumbling something about sea monsters.

“Well, we all sort of woke up on the beach, and . . . we didn’t know where we were or anything, so the Captain said we’d better pick up the wounded. We did, Dodger here had piece of metal lodged in his arm there, so the doctor had to remove it. We also think he may have suffered a head injury,” -- Jack looked quickly over at Dodger who had moved on to reciting the ingredients of a low-fat lasagna -- “Anyways, the crew took off for the jungle to get our bearings and see if there’re any materials we can use to rebuild the ship. It’s a fool’s errand, if you ask me, but the Captain was dead set on it. They left me here to look after Dodger. I go to grab some food for the two of us, I come back, and here you are, in the flesh.”

“More or less,” Wilhelm said.

They found a knife among the wreckage and began the arduous and experimental process of peeling through the thick skin of the fruit.

When they were finished, they sat back on one of the unsoiled crates and bit into the fruit, enjoying the feeling of juice running down their chins. Wilhelm realized how long it had been since his last meal. After that, Wilhelm went to gather his belongings before they became starched in the blazing sunlight.

It took quite awhile, but he eventually found his way back to the sad piece of mast that had kept him safe. He gathered his clothes and rifled through them, only to find that the one object in his possession had been misplaced. He searched every pocket, every fold, but the looking glass was nowhere to be seen. He searched the sand around the crow’s nest, but there wasn’t the faintest trace of it, not even a speckle of copper. Wilhelm sighed. Perhaps it had gotten lost in the storm.

Wilhelm returned to the wreckage of the Acheron. It was just as breathtaking and depressing as it had been the first time he had stumbled across it. He found Jack in the same place he had been, Dodger had wandered towards the sea and was preaching religion to the fish. However, there was another there. A man Wilhelm did not recognize. He was certainly not part of the crew. A very elderly man, he carried himself with the wildness of someone who hadn’t seen civilized society in many years. When Wilhelm approached the man who had been having an apparent conversation with Jack, the man looked up at him with a twinkle in his eye and grinned.

“Well, I had thought that the storm would deposit some trinkets on my beach, but I hadn’t expected it to dump an entire ship, and a crew along with it,” the man said. His tone was cheerful, almost youthful.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Wilhelm said.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I haven’t had much company in years.” -- He turned to look up at the ship. -- “it’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is indeed.” Wilhelm faced the ship as well. Who in the name of god is this man? He thought. And what is to come of us now? Now, more than ever, Wilhelm Kuch wished he had never left home for a life at sea.

Author's Note

Point out what you see. Like I said, this is not the finished product, not by a longshot. It's just not long enough to be a book. I'll add more to the same story, so comment if you want to be kept up to date with it.

Reviews

[Lovely Lady]

Pure talent... like the classics, i see this well received by your audience. I loved it.

[Tanece Brooks]

Amazing. the story drew me in from the very beginning and kept my attention until the very end. I also like how you introduced the main character to us. Your imagery is wonderful and I could picture it all. I love that you added in some humor with the characters. It was very natural and me laugh quite a bit. I found when they were naming the lemur to be rather hilarious, that and when Wilhelm woke up naked. Priceless.

Anyway, nice job, and I can't wait until you add more to this story.

[Aggie Skeleton]

That was awsomess.I liked the old man, he reminded me of my granfather. Tell me when the rest is finished.

[Yours Truly]

(Part 2)
Great visualization!
"Lightning began to streak across the sky in bold motions like a painter flicking bright paint onto a canvas." I think that was my favorite metaphor.
Again, you left me hanging with two more character introductions. Alastair's wife and the dragon haunting Wilhelm's dreams.

Let me know when the rest is up and ready for me to read.

[Yours Truly]

(Part 1)
I like the character introduction of the mysterious old man with the twinkle in his eye. It grasps your attention and makes a great cliff hanger for a ending of the chapter. Is he good or is he bad??
I have a feeling he may be a little on the scandalous side, seems to be a little too friendly...
Would love to read the rest when finished.

[HorrorMaster]

This is very good

[Ashley.M.E]

This is really good.

[Katie Louise Hughes]

This was really good, one mistake I think I found- freebly (spelling). I liked the humor you added into this- with the Dodger character, and how you left the ending in a mysterious manner. I really want to know what happens!!! I would love to read more to this! Thanks and keep up the writing! :D

[SR Urie]

Hiya Dominic,
Good story, man! The young sailor is stuck in the crow's nest and at the worst time too; during a storm. Finding himself, and the rest of the ship, stranded on an unknown island, he gets to taste some fruit again, misplaces his long glass (binocular), and meets some crazy old man who's obviously a castaway from a long time before. This is a great start to a really spooky ghost story where it turns out everybody, including Wilhelm, is dead and trying to find their way to home or heaven or wherever a ship's crew goes after sinking in a storm (that's completely up to you, Cochise; it's called poetic license).
Very good setting and plot development. I suggest that you build your characters a little better; who is this Wilhelm fellow? Is he German or Dutch or married to some beauty back on the beach or running from some crime or bullying uncle? Is he strong or weak, new at the marlinspike or seasoned beyond the capabilities of the skipper? Or maybe he’s a slave and wants his freedom from the incarceration of the ship? And you may want to build an extra layer or two to the plot. What is the mission of the ship? Is it a Naval vessel or a pirate or a slaver or maybe trader with a special cargo or destination? And what is the theme of your story/book/novelette besides the fact that Wilhelm should’ve picked another occupation than going to sea?
I have few gripes about type-o errors. You might want to re-read to fix a couple of misspelled words. Plus have a look at your sentence structure. When you interject a result into a descriptive sentence it’s better to place that result either at the beginning or at the end of the sentence. For example the sentence:
“A sailor for three years, Wilhelm had only once succumbed to sea sickness, and that was in his early days, back when something as simple as fixing up the mooring lines was beyond him.”
This would work better if you mentioned ‘sea sickness’ in the beginning like this:
‘Wilhelm had only fallen seasick in the early days when simple things like setting mooring lines were beyond the grasp of his young hands.’
A suggestion, my friend. Great start to a good story. Keep it up! BZ

PS: Have you ever been on a sailboat???