Titanic: True Love Forever

Chapter 2: Encounter

At eleven o'clock sharp, the Titanic began to start its internal engines, and when it officially sailed up the time was twelve o'clock ...... correctly it should be eleven fifty-nine minutes.

In less than an hour, fifty-nine minutes later there will be more than fifteen hundred people following this dream ship towards the cold hell of death. I had the sudden urge to take a gun to Bruce Ismay's head and order him to stop this voyage. No one knew what method I was going to use to storm this tanker, then successfully sneak into the upper decks to pull out the White Star bosses from those three to four hundred rooms, and then I was going to have to perform the stage show of taking them hostage and forcing this much-anticipated voyage to stop.

I traveled through time and space, and if my soul hadn't been possessed by an orphaned girl in a slum, and if my soul had been possessed by a super Agent 007 or Spider-Man, then I definitely would have started making a schedule.

I turned around and walked against the flow of the busy crowd, the Titanic fading away behind me. The small sketch portrait on my sleeve slipped into my palm and I lifted it up again as the sky began to clear and blue, grayish clouds clumping together and solidifying in the light blue sky. Some weak sunlight made the yellowed paper even more fragile and worn, and Jack's childish face came to life in the rough charcoal lines, and I always felt that Jack and Mary had a story.

Certainly nothing as exciting as the Titanic voyage that followed, where he would meet the woman he loved most in his life and then freeze to death in the Atlantic.

God knows why I couldn't find him in any of the bars, maybe the script from the director just meant that this guy had to be in this wonderful story. And it's none of my business, I don't have a ticket or thirty dollars to get on the boat, and I'm not going to meet the love of my life on it.

Holding the end of the sketch paper between my index and middle fingers, I raised it high and threw it away, this story actually has nothing to do with me.

In the last second of the paper out of the fingertips, someone behind me shouted, "Jack, wait for me ......"

Fingers suddenly tightened, and with such force that my bones ached I grabbed the sketch as it flew up, holding the boy's face fiercely in the palm of my hand. I turned quickly and ran toward the place where the voice had come from, crying out before I could even look, "Jack, Jack Dawson!"

Don t get on the boat, don t win that lucky ticket, someone wants you to live, and the woman who wants you to live ...... I damn well owe her my life.

I've never been so eager to fulfill this hellish mission that represents repayment, to do everything in my power to save the hero of the Titanic for once, because the woman draped the only blanket over me, and I'd have to hand it back to her for once.

She wished the talented Jack Dawson well, and I would have to keep wandering around the harbor bar as best I could.

Someone stop me from yelling around like a crazy person, my shoes don't fit at all, my toes are constantly grinding as I run around frantically, and I can almost smell that familiar rusty odor coming from my worn out toes and soles.

I pushed my way through the crowds of people who had come to see me off with my hands, leaping thrillingly between two brand new vintage cars. There were still some stacked sacks of cargo at the dock, and I jumped on them in stride, and then quickly off again when I couldn't stabilize them. I heard the direction of the voice calling for Jack, but there were so many people that I couldn't find him at all, and had to keep running desperately in that general direction, hoping to bump into him at the last minute.

That said, did God throw me, who was supposed to be in hell, into early twentieth century England just so I could come here and yell? And miraculously, I still had to.

The rhythm of my footsteps had been constantly increasing, and it was as if I could hear shouting from the soles of my feet, each stride off the ground seeming like a leap. I suddenly felt heartfelt joy that I could feel the health and strength of these feet in the midst of running so intensely, that every bone that represented standing and walking possessed the strength to support all my extreme movements.

Even if I am poor and without a nationality, my black hair becomes blonde, my face is westernized, I don't know where I will eat my next meal, I am wearing the coat of a dead body, and I will never see any of my relatives again, I am grateful for this rebirth because I once again have a pair of feet that can run and jump.

As long as I can run, as long as I can jump, as long as I can spin around, I can have it all.

I called out viciously and loudly, "Jack." God knows if that person was him or not, I saw a particular resemblance in the side of a boy's face from a distance and rushed over to him without hesitation.

Several brand new, gorgeous cars with gilded front ends suddenly honked and drove by, stopping on the dock just in time to block my path. I had no more time to linger, skipping even a detour, and jumped hard into the front of one of the cars with a lift of the hem of my jacket. The driver sitting in the back of the front of the car looked at me in amazement, as if he had seen some incredible Seven Wonders falling apart.

The front of the car was smooth glass with a light brown wooden roof, and in one swift motion I reached up and braced myself to jump onto the roof, the hidden strength in my soft limbs deftly used. I stood directly on the roof of the car and looked around, underneath the car was a crowd that was still as busy as the number of ants fleeing from a major earthquake.

I could hear shrill whistles, the sounds of chatter, footsteps, and the sound of the wheels and axles of the machinery that carried the goods mixed into a cacophony that was impossible to distinguish from the rest.

Black smoke billowed from Titanic's smokestacks, and a gray-winged, white-bellied seagull flew down from the blue sky to rest beside a gangway elevated high above the hull of the first-class upper deck.

The time was passing by the minute, and it was getting nearer and nearer to eleven fifty-nine. My movements began to be sharp and rough, panting lightly with impatience.

The door under the roof was suddenly opened, and I was ready to jump, when I stumbled too quickly, and my body had an inclination to fall forward in the nick of time. A gentleman's cane was already sticking out of the door, followed by a dark gray man's yarmulke, and a man happened to come out on his cane, raising his voice in some annoyance at the interruption and asking, "What's going on?"

Then he finally looked up, and with my unsteady posture I was about to jump out of the car, and the two men just happened to be facing each other one on top of the other. The first thing I saw was the other man's eyes, the pupils of his eyes were as transparent as glass beads, they were the common light-colored eyes of westerners, with a bit of yellowish brown, and it seemed that the color of displeasure from being disturbed still remained in them.

It was a young man, dressed in a decent gray striped three-piece suit with a white stand-up collar shirt. Wearing reddish-brown leather gloves and carrying a man's cane directly in front of him, his eyebrows were raised on one side and the corners of his mouth were tilted downward, arrogance and impatience on full display.

I didn't even have time to adjust my body to stagger out of the encounter, the impatience on my partner's face switched to surprise and his body immediately leaned back a little to back away, I had fallen head first off the roof of the car with such force that the impact sent the two of us crashing into each other. My face was rubbed against the buttons of his suit on his chest, and the pain made me a little dizzy, and the person I hit couldn't stabilize his body, and was forced to fall straight to the ground with me in his arms. He sucked in a breath of cold air and gurgled something painfully at the back of his throat before finally raising his voice in anger and slurring out, "Lovejoy, what the f**k is this?"

Guess what the f**k.

I hastily braced myself and the men's hat, which was on the wider side of my head, fell away, big blonde wavy curls cascading down openly, thick strands of hair splintering and falling into his furious face. He visibly froze for a few seconds, his expression rigid, his long hair momentarily isolating him from the busy world outside as we stared at each other.

Breathing close, I could easily smell something like perfume on him, some kind of men's perfume, I think.

Unfortunately, it wasn't my favorite type of perfume.

"Sir?" Someone shouts hurriedly, seemingly pushing through the crowd to approach us.

The voice brought me right back to my senses, and the spot where I'd been hit hurt vaguely. I tilted my head back in a hurry to try and stand up, my scalp suddenly flaring up and I hurt so much that tears flew out of my eyes as a certain strand of hair was snagged on the man's suit, seemingly caught in the silver watch chain of the suit jacket's inner pocket.

The man had obviously just come back to his senses, and the corners of his already sagging mouth pursed very hard, even the laugh lines were hardened. The expression was tinged with inexplicable anger, and there was not a hint of the politeness with which he treated a lady in his expression, just short of spitting out some unattractive expletive.

Over the din I heard the crewman already yelling even harder, "Third class passengers please line up this way at once." The whistles from the mouths of the Titanic's crew sounded once more, as if urging the wheels of time to move quickly, and the fateful set sail was about to begin.

I no longer had time to untangle my hair, my fingers grasped the taut strands, and with a vicious tug, the hair snapped in silky strands. Then I pushed myself away from the other man in a lurch at the fierce mingled surprise in his eyes, and got up from his body with my hand still pressing hard against the man's near abdomen, lending a hand that wrapped around something from pulling back too quickly. The waiter who had followed this man had come running, and I turned and ran.

I don't want to get tangled up in a ball of twine with these so-called superior people because of these trivial matters at all right now.

I heard the man groan a little in chagrin, getting hit by a heavy object wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. He said something forcefully to the waiter who came up to him, and the next thing I knew, a couple of people were running my way.

I was just in time to turn back, and in my eagerness to run I couldn't brake my footsteps and jumped backward twice very lightly, a beautiful dance move that maximized my balance.

The man stood up with the help of a butler-like attendant, his hands supporting his waist, his eyes rolled upwards a little, the corners of his mouth turned downwards, enduring the pain and still trying to keep up a look of elegance. He looked my way, and for a second I was sure he was going to rush over and press me into the sea and let the huge ship run me over.

I felt like I shouldn't have been so kind, this guy looked like one of those arrogant, rude, cold people with no forgiveness. This society is full of such people, and if he is a rich man, then congratulations, the world has one more robber without compassion.

I took a deep breath and shouted loudly to the attendants who were planning to drag me over before they touched me, "Don't get on the boat." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I leapt to my feet and made a clean spin to avoid those rushing at me. Diving headlong into the crowd, I ran under the white gangway and drowned in the sea of people.

The man seemed a little familiar, though, and I quickly put that trivial suspicion to the back of my mind.

Author's note:

Carl can also be called Cal