The Warship and the Wind
- Julia Irene
- May 11, 2021
- 3 min read
Another story from a reddit prompt. This one really gripped me and I am immensely proud of it! It reminds me of another story I wrote of a ghost ship, a steamboat that severed heads with high pressure steam. I was about 12 when I wrote it.
Such a macabre child, but there we have it.
Enjoy the story!
WP] A derelict warship lies deserted in a low-lying swamp. Despite being there for centuries, from the distance it appears ruined, but whole. Rumours say it is cursed. Certainly, no one has ever returned from it. But it’s right there, and it’s calling to you. Literally. In your dreams.
It lies east of here, the forgotten galleon, imposing with its impossibly tall masts, dark with wood rot. Streaming from the masts are ragged and spectral sails, eerily rippling in the windless sky. The deck is littered with ancient barrels and crates, their contents long disintegrated. The bogs cradle the hull, the ship nestled in the mud and grime of the desolate swamp in which it is laid to rest.
My dream form swoops through the ghost ship, entranced by the ruin and darkness of the macabre turrets of the vessel. Something is pulsing, an eldritch energy that causes my shadow form's eyes to water, and bring my knees to rest on the deck, helpless in the face of the strange power enveloping me. An icy wind begins to blow hard and fast around me, swirling and biting at my shadow skin. My body trembles in anticipation and fear as the forces bear down on me, a spectral wind chilling me to my core and the tunnel of the wind making it difficult for me to draw breath. My heart stopped for a brief moment, crippled with terror as the looming thought of my impending death resounds in my very bones.
The bitter winds ceased.
Trembling, I stood carefully, my eyes darting wildly into the darkness of the deck, looking up at the crow's nest in fear and hope that there was something tangible that I could see to make sense of all of this, as mad as it sounds. I want to see what is calling me here, what has plagued my dreams these weeks. The dreams usually just show me the ship, with its desecration and windless floating sails. Tonight was different. Tonight, the ship dragged me down to deck, at the mercy of whatever guards the ruined ship.
A whistle comes from a shadowy corner of the deck, behind a large crate. An eerie light glows from the top of the crate, and I strain my shadow eyes to see where the light and the noise is coming from. I spot a lantern on the crate that was not there before and I slowly creep toward it, the light drawing me as a moth is drawn to a flame. I reach out and touch the lantern, grasping the iron handle carefully.
The winds pick back up and take me with them, the rush filling my ears and burning my eyes. I scream and the air enters my throat and suddenly I am the air, the wind, the sky. I fly through the ship and fill sails, rustling the tall grasses of the marsh in new form. I can feel myself falling, falling away from reality and sanity. For a brief moment I see a thousand shadows just like me swirling, and I realize with a sense of panic that they are the souls of others like me, called to the dread ship and given as sacrifice to the wind. I scream in anguish again and I am lost to the power of the ship.
Far away, in a soft bed, a corpse lies, still warm and fresh from new death.
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