I’m still kind of into the suspense genre, but also when I’m writing short stories I feel like they’re better when they leave you hanging a bit. This prompt takes place in 1712 (you can find the whole prompt here). I had to use a bit more imagination than normal, and I hope that it has the right tone for that time period.
“Fire! There’s a fire at the docks!”
Shouts of fire woke me from my sleep. I stumble out of my cot and make my way to the window. I throw open the shutters, and the sight outside startles me. I can only stare in disbelief. There is a massive ship at the docks fully ablaze. The wood of the ship is a deathly black. The sails are the same shade. The flags flow in the wind in a ghostly manner, almost transparent but not quite. The fire is bright and swallows the ship, yet somehow it still floats.
The streets are in full chaos. The townspeople scatter in all different directions. Every way except towards the docks. Some are trying to help, others are trying to gather children to safety. As I step out of my house and run into the chaotic streets, I notice a handful of people not running away. In fact, they aren’t running at all. These few people are walking towards the burning ship, almost as if they are in a trance. I run towards someone I recognized. Michael. He’s been my friend for all of my life. I stop in front of him and shout, “Michael! What are you doing!” Michael doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m standing there. I grab his shoulders and shake him. Still no response. I’m not sure what to do. Every moment Michael is getting closer to the burning ship. In desperation, I grab a broken piece of wood near me and use all of my strength to his Michael at the back of his head. His body falls limp and unconscious.
I drag his body to the cellar of an abandoned church. To be sure he doesn’t wake up to try to go back to that ship, I tie him to a chair. Hours pass by and my adrenaline is wearing off. The sleep deprivation proves stronger than my own will. My eyes slowly shut and everything goes black. The last sight I remember is Michael, still unconscious, slumped over in the wooden chair. His hair is shaggy and hangs over his face. When I awaken, many hours later, I open my eyes and momentarily wince at the brightness of daylight. Once my eyes completely adjust, I notice that the ropes that held Michael are cut, and he is missing.
I scan the room for any signs of Michael. The door at the top of the stairs is wide open. Scrambling to my feet, I run up the stairs leaving the cellar. Directly across from the stairs is a wide window overseeing the town. Michael is standing there, alone. He is just staring blankly out into the night sky. I slowly walk closer to him and gently laid my hand on his shoulder. In silence, we stood together. Beyond the town I could still see the smoke from the burning black sails. Images of last night came flooding into my head. I quickly shake my head clear. After an eternity of silence, Michael says, “I could hear them in my head.”
“Who?” I questioned.
“The pirates. They were calling me to the ship, but I couldn’t say no. I had no control.”
“But what pirates, Michael? There was no one on that ship. It was on fire!”
“The Brotherhood,” Michael whispered as if the name was cursed itself. The Brotherhood was thought to be a myth. No one ever saw them or believed those who claimed to have been aboard the infamous black ship, which so happened to appear at our docks last night. They are indeed pirates, but they are neither alive nor dead. They claim to be in a sort of limbo. They had lived such monstrous lives that the crew was rejected by both heaven and hell, forced to roam the waters forever. Cursed.
“That can’t be right… The Brotherhood is just a…”
“No! they told me who they were! They said that they needed more crew members for a plan.” That explains why there were so many people walking towards the ship. We spend hours, the entire day actually, sharing stories and discussing The Brotherhood. Before we realize it, it is already night again.
Suddenly, there was an explosion that knocked Michael and me to the ground. When I looked up, there is a gaping hole in the church. I see Michael unconscious beneath the rubble of the destroyed wall. I try to stand, but a sharp pain in my leg kept me from standing. I look down and see blood running down me leg. I wince at the pain. A noise comes from outside. It must be The Brotherhood. As I look up, a dark shadowy figure came inside the church. It’s skin was charred and looked as if it were still smoldering. The last thing I remember is a hand reaching for me. My skin burns at it touched me.
What do they want with us?
I teach. I write. I read. 