Moopsiepoofs
04-22-2014, 01:06 PM
The wooden boards creaked beneath his feet as the slight frame of the boat swayed in the gathering winds. Daniel tucked his chin into the collar of his orange slicker and pulled tight the toggles of the hood attempting to shield his face from the piercing rain descending from the ashen sky. He didn't know what it was, but he knew in time it would return.
The shores of the lake which looked so peaceful bathed in the morning sunshine had been replaced with an endless wall of darkness enshrining the boat like the contents of a deathly snow globe. The oar belonging to his father had been taken when he was thrown overboard and the boy's had shattered beyond use. As the icy water slowly began to seep through the cracks in the hull, all hope appeared to be lost.
He moved toward the stern of the boat and reached under the broad bench, pulling out a small metal box engraved with an image of the Mayflower. The rusted lock was removed with ease and discarded into the now knee-deep murky water. Daniel took the knife from the box and ran his small hand across the blade. The handle seemed to weigh that of an axe as he pressed the serrated edge to his trembling narrow wrist. Eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, he was ready to swipe when the sound of thrashing in the water begun.
A small boat similar in size to his own emerged from the black, illuminated by a gas lamp hung from the mast. The dull flame revealed a tall slender figure crouched over the side, slowly and deliberately paddling towards Daniel.
The bow of the foreign vessel gently knocked the rear of the boat as the dark silhouette rose from the bench and shuffled towards the boy carrying the lamp. Daniel stood in silence as the dusted light revealed the face of the apparition standing before him. The profile of an elderly man with creased taught skin stretched across pronounced cheekbones below the sunken milky whites of his eyes. A grey beard stretched down past the breast pocket of his long overcoat and a leather flat cap sat atop a small whiff of white hair. With winds swirling and waves crashing around them, the vacant expression on the man's face left the young boy with a sense of great unease.
The stranger extended a fragile paper-white hand across the water and a flash of anger raced across his once sullen features as Daniel stepped backward into the water filling his sail boat. Grabbing a hold of the boy's arm with alarming strength and being careful to remove the knife from his hand, the man dragged Daniel across the dark void and into his craft.
The stranger proceeded to bind Daniel's hands and feet against the mast while another figure could be seen hunched at the stern of the boat. Slowly rocking back and forth in the darkness, long matted hair obscured it's face and the loud stamping of feet against the wooden boards rang in tune to the waves slamming against the boat.
The old man returned holding a rusted cage with a brown chicken inside. It's small head bouncing up and down with beady black eyes darting around in their sockets. The animal appeared particularly emaciated and was struggling to remain upright against the prevailing winds. The poor health of the chicken raised a question in Daniel's mind of just how long this boat had been travelling these waters.
The cage was tied to the end of the bowline and placed gently into the lake. The waters grew calm and the man stood still with the gas lamp held above his head. He projected the light onto the floating cage and stood like the relic of an ancient lighthouse warning incoming vessels of the rock-scattered shoreline.
For several minutes the only sound to be heard was that of stamping feet at the rear of the boat; the melodic tone sounding not dissimilar to the beating of a drum played by African tribesmen deep in the heart of some forgotten jungle. The boat began to sway. Gently at first, before the ripples of water started to rise from the surface and batter the boat from all sides. It seemed this little sail boat had stopped directly above a geyser primed to erupt.
Water crashed down from above yet the old man remained motionless, in awe of what lay before him. The stamping grew faster, louder, as the colossal shape drifted under the boat. The dark water grew darker still as the shadow of the beast came into view under the glassy surface. Daniel could no longer see the caged chicken from his vantage point. He could hear the thrashing of water, the flapping of wings, the twisting of metal and the prevailing silence.
The old man pulled the line from the water and threw it at the feet of the boy. Loose threads of string jotted from the gnawed end of rope. The man placed the gas lamp onto the hook above Daniel's head and disappeared into the darkness. The air was silent and the lake was still but for the faint sounds of the creature gliding through the water at the furthest depths of the lake. It was circling the boat; waiting to be fed.
The man returned carrying a small tin cup and a dirt rag. He placed the cup on the floor and was able to stuff the oil-covered rag into Daniel's mouth after a brief moment of resistance from the child. Then – with frightening speed – the elderly man brandished a large cleaver from the inside pocket of his overcoat and began to systematically hack at Daniel's right arm. The boy's eyes widened in shock and pain, his cries muffled by the piece of cloth sticking from his mouth.
Blood poured from the gash in the orange slicker just below the shoulder as the blade sliced through meat and cracked through bone with each dull swipe. The old man slipped to his knees on occasion as pools of claret formed at his feet. Each time he would regain balance with the same maniacal grin plastered across his face, reveling in self-made chaos.
Following several minutes' work and countless strikes at the boy's arm, the old man dropped the cleaver to the floor and stumbled forward panting for breath. Daniel had drifted far from consciousness before the stench of rot and decay on the man's breath rocked his senses back into focus. Sweat dripped from the wrinkled brow and trickled down the bony cheeks before coming to rest on the grey hairs of his jaw. The mouth of the man was lined with small black teeth, each one twisted and protruding of its own direction as if attempting to escape the hostile environment.
With the arm hanging in place by a few remaining glistening white tendons, the old man took a firm grip at the elbow and yanked free his prize from Daniel's body. The boy mustered one last scream in agony before his eyes slipped shut and his pale face slumped forward with consciousness finally escaping him.
The old man retrieved the tin cup from the decking at the boy's feet, now filled to the brim with blood and sweat. He walked towards the back of the boat and handed the mixture to the figure stationed in the shadows. With blood still streaming from the wound of the departed limb, the man hoisted the arm above his head and drank from it as if toasting some mad banquet. When satisfied, he tossed the extremity into the lake, but not before removing three of the child's fingers with the tenacity of a savaged animal. The lust for violence consuming him as he swallowed the delicate digits. He barely even registered the long black tail of the creature darting to the surface to collect the ravaged limb.
The man took the oiled rag from Daniel's mouth and wiped the blood from his face and hands. A small amount had found its way into the man's eye, but he knew better than to try washing it out over the side of the boat, not with the creature in a state of hunger and frenzy.
He untied the child and propped him against the side of the boat. The boy was still alive. He shook him gently with no response. It wasn't until the old man placed his cold dead hands on the boy's face that Daniel woke. Life swam back into his tiny blue eyes at which point the man lifted him over his shoulder and threw him far out into the darkness.
His small body barely made a splash as he entered the water, the icy liquid stabbing him over and over from head to toe, relentless and unforgiving as he paddled aimlessly with weak legs and one arm. The man stood still on the boat with the lamp held high. What was easier prey? The chicken trapped in a cage on the end of a rope, or this little boy flapping his own wing as the water below begins to shake?
The creature approached from below with startling speed and tore through the lower half of Daniel's body with consummate ease. The water clouded with blood and his viscera spilled out and rose to the surface. There was no pain. The water had numbed his body and when faced with the open jaws of the beast hurtling towards his little bobbing head, Daniel gently closed his eyes and the remainder of his body was swept away as if it had never been.
The old man watched from the deck as the morning sun broke through the grey clouds and chirping birds flew overhead. He watched as the creature propelled itself through the water powered by it's long black tail. An animal of great power and elegance and untold destruction.
He looked out onto the now sun-soaked lake and far in the distance he could see the first of the day's fishermen coming out from the harbour. At the rear of the boat he could hear the stamping of feet. A smile stretched across the old man's face.
The shores of the lake which looked so peaceful bathed in the morning sunshine had been replaced with an endless wall of darkness enshrining the boat like the contents of a deathly snow globe. The oar belonging to his father had been taken when he was thrown overboard and the boy's had shattered beyond use. As the icy water slowly began to seep through the cracks in the hull, all hope appeared to be lost.
He moved toward the stern of the boat and reached under the broad bench, pulling out a small metal box engraved with an image of the Mayflower. The rusted lock was removed with ease and discarded into the now knee-deep murky water. Daniel took the knife from the box and ran his small hand across the blade. The handle seemed to weigh that of an axe as he pressed the serrated edge to his trembling narrow wrist. Eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, he was ready to swipe when the sound of thrashing in the water begun.
A small boat similar in size to his own emerged from the black, illuminated by a gas lamp hung from the mast. The dull flame revealed a tall slender figure crouched over the side, slowly and deliberately paddling towards Daniel.
The bow of the foreign vessel gently knocked the rear of the boat as the dark silhouette rose from the bench and shuffled towards the boy carrying the lamp. Daniel stood in silence as the dusted light revealed the face of the apparition standing before him. The profile of an elderly man with creased taught skin stretched across pronounced cheekbones below the sunken milky whites of his eyes. A grey beard stretched down past the breast pocket of his long overcoat and a leather flat cap sat atop a small whiff of white hair. With winds swirling and waves crashing around them, the vacant expression on the man's face left the young boy with a sense of great unease.
The stranger extended a fragile paper-white hand across the water and a flash of anger raced across his once sullen features as Daniel stepped backward into the water filling his sail boat. Grabbing a hold of the boy's arm with alarming strength and being careful to remove the knife from his hand, the man dragged Daniel across the dark void and into his craft.
The stranger proceeded to bind Daniel's hands and feet against the mast while another figure could be seen hunched at the stern of the boat. Slowly rocking back and forth in the darkness, long matted hair obscured it's face and the loud stamping of feet against the wooden boards rang in tune to the waves slamming against the boat.
The old man returned holding a rusted cage with a brown chicken inside. It's small head bouncing up and down with beady black eyes darting around in their sockets. The animal appeared particularly emaciated and was struggling to remain upright against the prevailing winds. The poor health of the chicken raised a question in Daniel's mind of just how long this boat had been travelling these waters.
The cage was tied to the end of the bowline and placed gently into the lake. The waters grew calm and the man stood still with the gas lamp held above his head. He projected the light onto the floating cage and stood like the relic of an ancient lighthouse warning incoming vessels of the rock-scattered shoreline.
For several minutes the only sound to be heard was that of stamping feet at the rear of the boat; the melodic tone sounding not dissimilar to the beating of a drum played by African tribesmen deep in the heart of some forgotten jungle. The boat began to sway. Gently at first, before the ripples of water started to rise from the surface and batter the boat from all sides. It seemed this little sail boat had stopped directly above a geyser primed to erupt.
Water crashed down from above yet the old man remained motionless, in awe of what lay before him. The stamping grew faster, louder, as the colossal shape drifted under the boat. The dark water grew darker still as the shadow of the beast came into view under the glassy surface. Daniel could no longer see the caged chicken from his vantage point. He could hear the thrashing of water, the flapping of wings, the twisting of metal and the prevailing silence.
The old man pulled the line from the water and threw it at the feet of the boy. Loose threads of string jotted from the gnawed end of rope. The man placed the gas lamp onto the hook above Daniel's head and disappeared into the darkness. The air was silent and the lake was still but for the faint sounds of the creature gliding through the water at the furthest depths of the lake. It was circling the boat; waiting to be fed.
The man returned carrying a small tin cup and a dirt rag. He placed the cup on the floor and was able to stuff the oil-covered rag into Daniel's mouth after a brief moment of resistance from the child. Then – with frightening speed – the elderly man brandished a large cleaver from the inside pocket of his overcoat and began to systematically hack at Daniel's right arm. The boy's eyes widened in shock and pain, his cries muffled by the piece of cloth sticking from his mouth.
Blood poured from the gash in the orange slicker just below the shoulder as the blade sliced through meat and cracked through bone with each dull swipe. The old man slipped to his knees on occasion as pools of claret formed at his feet. Each time he would regain balance with the same maniacal grin plastered across his face, reveling in self-made chaos.
Following several minutes' work and countless strikes at the boy's arm, the old man dropped the cleaver to the floor and stumbled forward panting for breath. Daniel had drifted far from consciousness before the stench of rot and decay on the man's breath rocked his senses back into focus. Sweat dripped from the wrinkled brow and trickled down the bony cheeks before coming to rest on the grey hairs of his jaw. The mouth of the man was lined with small black teeth, each one twisted and protruding of its own direction as if attempting to escape the hostile environment.
With the arm hanging in place by a few remaining glistening white tendons, the old man took a firm grip at the elbow and yanked free his prize from Daniel's body. The boy mustered one last scream in agony before his eyes slipped shut and his pale face slumped forward with consciousness finally escaping him.
The old man retrieved the tin cup from the decking at the boy's feet, now filled to the brim with blood and sweat. He walked towards the back of the boat and handed the mixture to the figure stationed in the shadows. With blood still streaming from the wound of the departed limb, the man hoisted the arm above his head and drank from it as if toasting some mad banquet. When satisfied, he tossed the extremity into the lake, but not before removing three of the child's fingers with the tenacity of a savaged animal. The lust for violence consuming him as he swallowed the delicate digits. He barely even registered the long black tail of the creature darting to the surface to collect the ravaged limb.
The man took the oiled rag from Daniel's mouth and wiped the blood from his face and hands. A small amount had found its way into the man's eye, but he knew better than to try washing it out over the side of the boat, not with the creature in a state of hunger and frenzy.
He untied the child and propped him against the side of the boat. The boy was still alive. He shook him gently with no response. It wasn't until the old man placed his cold dead hands on the boy's face that Daniel woke. Life swam back into his tiny blue eyes at which point the man lifted him over his shoulder and threw him far out into the darkness.
His small body barely made a splash as he entered the water, the icy liquid stabbing him over and over from head to toe, relentless and unforgiving as he paddled aimlessly with weak legs and one arm. The man stood still on the boat with the lamp held high. What was easier prey? The chicken trapped in a cage on the end of a rope, or this little boy flapping his own wing as the water below begins to shake?
The creature approached from below with startling speed and tore through the lower half of Daniel's body with consummate ease. The water clouded with blood and his viscera spilled out and rose to the surface. There was no pain. The water had numbed his body and when faced with the open jaws of the beast hurtling towards his little bobbing head, Daniel gently closed his eyes and the remainder of his body was swept away as if it had never been.
The old man watched from the deck as the morning sun broke through the grey clouds and chirping birds flew overhead. He watched as the creature propelled itself through the water powered by it's long black tail. An animal of great power and elegance and untold destruction.
He looked out onto the now sun-soaked lake and far in the distance he could see the first of the day's fishermen coming out from the harbour. At the rear of the boat he could hear the stamping of feet. A smile stretched across the old man's face.