Slick

Must have written this short story some two years ago. Maybe third person point of view would have worked better and the storyline could have been told clearer. Not really keen on the way it was written (oh it is dreadful) but the ideas are pretty neat. The fascination in stargazing shows too. Probably a story worth remastering.

Cannot quite remember what sparked this project, but the point was to write something spooky; it was meant for a little writing community (not sure what became of them, nor of this story). And I tried. To make it spooky.

Slick

So far everything had proceeded along my favours. Except that the motor had died out. No fears, I should be able to reach the other side of the channel by midday.

The northern stars twinkle brightly with encouragement. If it weren’t for the clear skies I may be lost and dead. But that is not to be, for I will reach land within the next twelve hours or so. I start to paddle.

Without the motor, I sense the expansive peace of the still sea. All is silent except for the current lapping around my lifeboat, my paddle scooping the waters, and my breath matching the rowing. Brimming with calmness, I recall the escape. It was a close call, but not close enough. Either they got me or they didn’t. Now they will never find me. The night’s dark cloak makes me feel safely obscure.

I redirect the boat northwards before sinking deeper into thought. Did I leave my identity uncovered? Is there anyone left who still knows me? Who was that person anyway, the one I kicked into the vat of tar. He sank, arms flailing, descending.. Hush! What is done is done, there is no turning back, no returning people from the dead. I redirect the boat again. I need to concentrate some more on rowing; my right arm is overpowering my left.

But even with the stone still current, I have to redirect the boat three, four, five times. Screw this rickety boat, some lousy carpenter did not get the symmetry right. Before I know it, the northern stars grew dimmer. Why, is it nearly dawn already? I’ll come to miss the gentle night breeze.

Instead of getting warmer, I get slightly chilly. I must have gained a significant latitude although I didn’t expect the climate to change so sharply. The clouds grow thicker, only allowing only the brightest of stars to shine through. I stop to think. Should I wait for sunrise to mark my east, or paddle on and risk veering off course?

While I think, the air gets warmer. Maybe I should just wait, the sun is rising soon. Over the next couple of minutes, the temperature gets fuzzy, cozy, humid, then stifling. How can it be stifling hot when the sun has not risen? I wait a little more but it seems like dawn is still a little ways to come, so I pick up my paddle.

I squint at the faint stars and realize that my boat is facing south. A chill creeps up my spine towards my neck. The opaque atmosphere turns on me. I don’t row but ominous ripples bounce off of my boat. My joints grow stiff as I realize
I am spinning.

Dark figures swishing around the circumference burst with laughter, revealing themselves on the vast, dim sea. I dig hard with my paddle but it is no use, the current is dragging me in. A multitude more of vengeful apparitions swirl the agitated sea, chilling my bones with their presence. Hopelessly slapping the liquid funnel, I revolve with the whirlpool. The thousands of those who I ended are here to end me. Water laps into my lifeboat, a boat that will not serve its purpose, and I breathe my last before submerging through the center of the vortex. The freezing water surprises me, causing precious air to bubble away. Arms flailing, I sink, descending rapidly. I kick the boat to bring myself closer the surface then struggle frantically towards sea level, progressing in slow motion. I believe I saw a star twinkle through the water, before a slick-slippery hand grips me by the ankle and yanks me down into the dark abyss, as dark as a vat of tar.