Genre: Horror
Picture: Men looking tortured on a raft, with a ship in the distance, as shown to the right.
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Leaving.
For eight endless months the ship will be my home. I try to kiss my beloved daughter Bethany good bye on her matted head of hair, but her body is shaking so violently, I miss. The fever is weakening her little frame; I'm scared that this will be the last time I ever get to see my one and only daughter.
I grasp her bony hand in mine. "It's okay, it's okay. Nana's looking after you, you'll be alright," I say soothingly.
Nana is my late wife Sadey's mother. The last time I went to work as a cleaner on another ship was when Sadey died, coincidently of a fever just like Beth's. I can only hope that Beth won't end up like Sadey.
I shuffle past Beth's Nana and open the front door. Take one last glimpse of Bethany through half closed lashes, so neither of them can see the tears glistening in my dull, defeated eyes.
One week later...
I am up to my elbows in a toilet bowl belonging to the men's public washroom. It's difficult not to spill cleaning liquid on the floor as the ship is rocking unsteadily. A particularly large wave has me crashing head first into the rim of the bowl.
I groan in pain and stand up, holding my arms out so the sides of the cubicle's walls will save me from falling down again. I stumble over to the sinks, peel off my rubber hygiene gloves and stare into the mirror in front of me. There's another bruise forming on my forehead, some old ones disguised under my unshaved chin. That's the fourth time this week that I have injured myself with mere toilet bowls.
I guess I'm just worried about Beth. My thoughts always stray from what I'm doing to how she is. Whether she's alive!
No, don't think that. Of course she's alive.
My internal argument is interrupted when I hear the door open. "Sir," I call out, still inspecting my bruised forehead, "the toilets are closed for cleanin'."
"I know," a cold, female voice pierces through the room, making me jump in surprise. Six steps, then I see her join my reflection in the mirror. She's standing directly behind my left shoulder. High cheek bones consume her thin, bone-white face. Her eyes are black charcoal, lips thin, dark red.
"U-uh, Ma'am, this isn't no place for ladies, ya know?"
She smirks, and looks at me properly. I'm still looking in the mirror, so her face turns to a side profile. I'm about to muster up the courage to turn around and face her like a proper man, when I suddenly recognise her. That small, bumpy nose; those long, full eyelashes; waves of curly hair framing a heart-shaped face; chin sticking out...
I gasp, and step back in fright. But that only pushes my bulky frame into her. "Sadey? Is that you?" My voice is a high-pitched squeak. I move a few steps away from her, unsure.
She just smiles. "Look," she replies. I thought she meant for me to look at her, and how different she looks now, but suddenly my vision fills with a completely different scene instead.
Beth.
She's sitting in her bed, pillows propped behind her sweaty head, still shaking. Nana's hands flutter around Beth's frail body, patting down sheets, not sure of what to do.
Beth coughs.
Blood pours from her mouth in a torrent, seeping into her blankets. Beth's Nana looks on in shock. After an endless moment, she runs out of the room, screaming for help.
Beth is still coughing, gasping, uselessly trying to find oxygen to breathe. Red is everywhere. It trickles from her eyes, nose, ears. Spouts from her mouth.
"Daddy, why aren't you here," she whispers, so quietly you can barely hear it.
One last breath.
Motionless.
The vision soon fades, and I find myself on the ground, weeping. I can't even remember how I got there. I look up at the woman in front of me through my tears. "Why?" I sob.
The woman points at something behind me. I turn, and find my little girl, Beth. She's still in her pajamas, covered in the sickly sweet smell of fresh blood. Her body is like that of a skeleton. Beth grins wickedly at me. "You left me to die, daddy," she says, voice monotone.
I shy away from the both of them. I need to get out of this bathroom. I run to the door, slam it shut and face an empty hallway. I can't think clearly, all I see are images of my dying daughter. I know one thing, at least. I've got to get to the lifeboats and escape this haunted ship. I sprint down the hallway, up the cabin steps, down another hallway, and open the door onto the main deck.
Around me I see the tortured faces of my cabin crew and passengers. Their weeping bodies lie miserably on the ground. Limbs flail at nothing. Or, I now realise, what looks like nothing. They must be witnessing their own loved ones being hurt, or dying. Or maybe they’re watching their already dead loved ones play cruel jokes on them, something like what my own wife did to me only minutes before.
“Get up,” I scream to the people around me, “before they get to ya head! Come with me!” A few people start to stir, but the unfortunate ones stay oblivious to their true surroundings. “Come on, to the lifeboats!” I tug at the people nearby in frustration. Soon I have about ten men following me to the lifeboats. We’re so close to the boats, five metres away.
And that’s when the killing begins.
It’s as if a secret signal goes off which controls the dead ghosts of our loved ones. People around me are suddenly getting choked by invisible hands, stabbed with invisible knives. I feel other people’s blood moisten my cleaner’s uniform. But I don’t think about that now. I can’t.
The ten other men help me haul the lifeboat into the ocean. I wait for each of them to climb down the ladder into it before I go. I squeeze my eyes shut while I wait, so I don’t have to see the ravaged bodies around me.
There’s a tap on my shoulder. I open my eyes and turn around.
It’s Beth. “Daddy, I’m scared.” Her voice is still that same monotonic drone and she’s still soaked with blood, although by now it’s drying brown and flakey. She looks like a zombie, with her grey skin and black eyes. But she’s my daughter, and she’s afraid. Without thinking, I pick her up and hug her close.
“Come with us on the li’l boat, ‘kay? You’ll be safe.” I pop her onto my back and make my way to the now empty ladder. I climb down slowly, so as not to jostle my darling daughter so much. She may be dead, but she’s still my only family. Without her, I’d have nothing to live for.
I’m thankful that the other men in the lifeboat can’t see Bethany. They would have kicked her out for sure.
I hold her close and find a place to sit. Once the lifeboat leaves the ship, Beth grins that same wicked smile I’d seen her wear in the bathroom. She’s waving. And when I look up, I see her waving at my wife Sadey.
Was this all a set-up?
Beth answers my question with a piercing cry. “We’re free!” she cries. “Come on, Souls!” I watch in horror as the dead ‘Souls’ aboard the ship suddenly become visible and jump off it into the ocean. They start swimming impossibly fast to our lifeboat. The men around me start screaming, trying to get away from Beth, and the oncoming Souls at the same time.
“Thanks to you, we’re not limited to one ship. Nor are we only visible to our past lives’ loved ones. Everyone can feel our wrath now!” Beth laughs in manic glee.
All goes eerie when I see her pick up an abandoned oar. She pulls it back behind her, swings it my way, just as another Soul starts gauging at my eyes. Blinded and in searing pain, I scramble across the ground. Pitiful screams and moans surround me from all directions.
I feel someone’s ragged breath at the base of my neck; the sharp blade of a knife prickling my skin.
“Join us.”
