1st June 1785,1:04 am
The blue-green waves persistently hammered against the ship’s hull, hungry for revenge. Howling, the wind, which too was desperate for the death of these men, tore through the sails of Clorinda, leaving them ragged and of no use. Captain Andrew Tailor, notorious for his cruel leadership and lust for gold, banished people into the ravenous sea in an attempt to save his treasure.
Once he had started, he didn’t stop: the man, who was evidently wrong in the head, flung all sorts of things overboard — he even ruptured the galleon’s figurehead and thrust it into the sea below. But, if anything, this only made things worse: the ship had lost the majority of its weight, making it much more likely for it to capsize. Within five minutes, the ongoing screams of rage had come to an end: the boat had overturned.
30th April, 2006
“Finally! We’re here!” exclaimed Becca in her sing-song voice.
“From what you’ve been saying, it sounds like you’ve been here your whole life,” moaned Charlie.
“Says you!” snapped Becca and the two of them began to squabble bitterly.
“Oh! Shut up!” Ella complained but then too joined in the argument.
Charlie, a boy with glistening green eyes and chestnut brown hair, had six sisters and a brother yet his eldest five siblings were off at university leaving his stuck with Ella, Becca and his mum. Impatient, Charlie waited as the walkway was lowered onto the land. For five long hours he had been cooped up in his cabin and, finally, they had arrived in France. Seizing the opportunity to escape the clutches of his two elder sisters, the boy raced ahead. He was desperate to reach their holiday cottage first and excited to see the harbour: he had heard of the legend of Clorinda and was determined to prove it. Eventually slowing, he glimpsed the sea. Stretching out before him, the blue-green sea sparkled in the afternoon sun – it was breath-taking. However, he was not looking where he was going and the 11-year-old suddenly felt something holding him back. Confused and petrified, the terrified young boy soon realised what it was…
“H-h-hi … A-Andrew”, stuttered Charlie.
A year ago, Charlie had visited France on holiday and Andrew, the harbour master, and Charlie hadn’t got off to the best start. Andrew, an intimidating old man, had caught Charlie on several occasions sneaking around the harbour and, for some reason, especially at night, he was rather protective of it. Each time Charlie was caught, he would be threatened. If he disobeyed, he would be thrust into the sea, receiving a mouthful of salty water.
With a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his snow-white face, the ageing man gloated,‘Well, well, well. Look who it is ‘ere: Charlie Adams of England.”
His smirk as broad as ever, he continued, “In many ways I like an elephant I…”
“Don’t you mean I’m like an elephant?” Charlie noted.
“Dat’s what I said. Anyways, I’m like an elephant ‘cause I’m wrinkly AND I have a memory dat’s good AND I sink that I told you to stay away!” he said, emphasising the I’ms.
“You did,” the young boy replied, giggling nervously.
“So why ye’ ‘ere?” Andrew shouted after the boy as he scampered away.
Although he had been gone for what seemed like hours, no one had noticed his absence. Maybe it was just him but the clock read 1:50 and the boy could have sworn that he had departed from the ferry at that exact time. Had he imagined his conversation with Andrew? Surely not but, if so, something weird was going on here; something VERY weird. Confused by his own thoughts, he decided to get some rest: after all, it had been a long, tiresome journey.
Waking abruptly, Charlie rubbed his eyes. He had just had the most frightful nightmare and was bewildered by what it could mean. During the horrific dream, he had been somewhere – a boat perhaps. Someone was coming: their heavy footsteps thundering down the corridor and then… nothing. Racking his brain for any memory of what had happened next, the boy found nothing of interest. However, the clock had just struck 12-midnight. Thinking on his feet, Charlie had a sudden urge to visit the harbour: Andrew would surely be in bed, fast asleep, by now.
Avoiding the creaky floorboards, Charlie crept downstairs. The light was on. In two minds, the boy went upstairs as quickly as he dared. ‘If it’s Mum, she’ll be a while but Ella?’ he pondered. Suddenly, an idea clicked. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before?’ he thought to himself as he began to pick at the lock on the window.
After a few minutes, Charlie was stood in front of his house. Climbing down from his window, he had caught a scab and his knee was bleeding badly. Ignoring the pain throbbing through his left leg, he walked on, heading for the harbour.
As he reached the docks, he saw that he had obviously been mistaken — Andrew was there. It was almost as if he had been waiting for him. Startled, he ran and ran and ran. He continued running until he couldn’t run any more. Unaware of his whereabouts, the boy looked around. Wherever he was, it hadn’t been lived in in a while: wooden doors were rotting away; shop signs were torn; there was an eerie mist hanging around the houses. Troubled, the boy felt himself hastily rooted to the ground — unable to move.
Out of nowhere, Andrew appeared with a sinister grin on his face.
“Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to do this and now I can,” he said with great satisfaction. Suddenly, he withdrew something from his pocket and, in an instant, Charlie fell, lifeless, to the floor.
No one knew what happened to Andrew after that. No trace was found.
Another sinister story! I like the way you included a time-shift in your story and developed a context for the characters at the start with some lovely descriptive detail.