Page 60 | Chapter 3 | The Ghost Ship | A Free Serialized Online Novel by Scott Telek

John watched the ship grow larger, and as her shadow gathered overhead, his heart shrank. He saw in his mind the man in charge of her, her captain, and shrank again. So much like his father! John lowered his eyes to the rippling water, but could not escape the reflection, even there. It was as though his father had not only followed him, but arranged to watch over and control his movements, his thoughts, even from afar. A shudder passed across John’s back, accompanied by a wave of cringing shame. He was too young, he thought. Too young, not grown, not adult enough to be here, married, away from father. And her, he thought, the looming ship, he controlled her, too. He raised his eyes once more.

The black bowsprit split the sky above their heads as they drew into her shadow. The enormous wall of her hull rose in a graceful arc from the face of the water, curving outward over their heads as the blackness of her mass began to eclipse the sun. John followed the huge links in the anchor chain where they plunged into the dark water.

Now above, the graceful figurehead, a beautiful woman with abundant cleavage springing from a simple white dress. The carved folds of her red hair flowed down across her back and shoulders while her arms reached forward, holding a bunched bouquet of delicately carved, brightly colored flowers. Her wide, longing brown eyes stared out to a point beyond the limits of the horizon, and around her ankle, coiling upward, a thin black snake.

Their boat turned to an angle perpendicular to the ship, and John watched her grow still nearer, saw the black expanse of the ship’s sides extend until they filled his entire range of vision. He had not expected her to be so unsettlingly enormous, nor to exert such a powerful presence. They missed the flat foot of the gangway badly in the increasing waves. The boat came parallel to the side of the ship, knocking against her, and for a moment John reached up, fingers touching the waves of her curving wooden grain. She was wet, cold, lifeless, dead. Moments later they were tied alongside, stepping onto the gangway. They heard the pained creaking of her timbers as she swayed slightly back and forth beneath the increasing clouds.