25 Short Stories for Cruise Ship Travelers

The Breach

The Breach

I had never felt such peace. The gentle sway of the cruise ship upon the Norwegian channels created a mesmerizing effect; with my eyes closed, I could imagine myself in a realm of clouds, or else floating, without body, in the dark, star-ridden void. My earbuds encapsulated me in the sounds of sitar and soft Indian chanting. I began to lose myself. The void, the music, the beautiful Nordic scenery that I unconsciously knew was floating by - all this helped to provide the most relaxing setting for meditation.

It was early March and my vacation along the Norwegian fjords had only just begun. A few nights spent in the mildly bustling heart of Oslo and then I was off, off on the tranquil journey I had so long saved for. Now there was nothing to do but enjoy the peace and quiet. The jangling sitar in the earbuds gradually faded to the sounds of water softly splashing. The water sound gained momentum and began to roar. My meditation became so deep that I began to drift towards sleep. I sunk deeper and deeper, eventually into a dream. My dreams took me to unimagined places. I saw an island in the distance, surrounded by pirate ships en masse, flying flags of an unknown, confederate nation. In my mind’s eye I saw sandcastles of unimaginable height crumble, become tortoise shells, and return to the sea, where a mermaid scooped them to her ample bosom. I dreamt strangely, deep and long, of the old gods and their cohorts who ruled the sea long before maps had charted them.

Suddenly, I was jarred rudely awake. I woke with a gasp and clutched the side of my head, which smarted sharply. My hand came away covered in blood. I was disoriented; I couldn’t fathom what had happened. Here I was, meditating and dreaming, when suddenly I was woken, bleeding as if I had been assaulted by one of the weird creatures of my dream-reverie. I was laying on the floor and my clothes were soaking wet. I pulled myself up by hugging the side of the bed, still unbalanced from the wound I had received to the head, and tried desperately to get my bearings. Water seeped steadily in from the cracks between door and hallway. I made my way to the door and jerkily threw it wide, alarm now starting to inhibit basic motor skills.

Water gushed down the hallway in a way I can only describe as wild. It was like the scene from a disaster film; the overhead alarms sounded and cast everything red. The overhead lights flickered, some blown out completely. The sound of the water rushing through the ship was immense; it flooded my senses, its thunderous roar recalling the same sound that I had just a short time ago meditating upon – that had swept me away to the land of dreams.

Using the molding on the walls as purchase, I began to make my way down the hall and towards the nearest emergency exit that I knew of. Struggling against the current, I began to become faint, the strength leaving my body the longer I prodded along. I was almost given out when I finally came upon the steep stairs that led up to the exit. But I was not the only one who had made their way to this spot, as a long line of passengers were halted on and around the steps, nobody moving, only grumbling and cursing their luck. Many wore life-vests already, which reassured me, and I began to look around for some crew member in order to secure my own. There were none to be found. This vast throng of people were all fellow passengers, ranging from small children to the advanced elderly who had wished to look upon the beautiful fjords before they died. The ship began to vibrate in a violent manner, causing a wave of hysteria to work its way through us, as some fell into the churning water and others braced themselves as best they could. I took a young girl by the hand so that she would not slip and tried to give her a reassuring look, though whatever she saw in my eyes only made her begin to cry and beg for her mother.

Ever so slightly, I began to feel the ship roll to its side. It was tipping; this was it. I was experiencing the kind of capsize that one only reads about. My heart began to pound and I was afraid I squeezed the little girl’s hand so hard that her cry became a pitched, anxious scream. Just when I thought all was lost, I saw the crew approaching us from the opposite direction wearing red vests, making their way against the frothing current. The lurid red light of the overheard alarms washed over them in rounds and they seemed to come towards us at a snail’s pace. When they were within shouting distance, I heard one of the leading crewmen scream, “There are no more lifeboats. They are all gone! You must jump! Into the ocean with you all! It is your only chance!”

What followed his announcement was utter pandemonium. Parents and children alike began to wail. Even the elderly, who were previously stoic and composed, started to cry, to curse Jesus and Poseidon alike. At some point I lost the girl. I began to push others aside and struggle towards the steps, which was no easy feat given that most were frozen and weighted down by fright, unable to muster the awareness to make way. It was like wading through a crowd of sleeping buffalo. When I eventually reached the top of the stairs I looked out upon dark waters, the near frozen straights of the Norwegian fjords. Let me tell you: I could see the cold. I gazed into those steel grey depths and doubted my courage to do it - to take the final plunge.

“Jump, damn you!”, I heard someone shout from behind me. Without turning, I began to make my way closer to the edge.

“Jump you damn fool, or I will throw you overboard myself!”

Still I could not. Hesitantly, I began to retrace my steps. Suddenly I felt someone’s hand press against the small of my back and I was pushed violently off and into the water.

The last thing I remember was striking the water. It was blinding cold. I gasped in spite of myself and my lungs filled with ice. And then, complete darkness.

All was dark. I drifted in a sea of black, in a place seemingly without current. I did not know if I was up or down, which way was which. Nothing seemed to matter at that point. I rolled in the afterlife, the nothing that is nonexistence. But to my surprise I soon spied distant lights, like strange willow-the-wisps which flitted about in these blank depths. What could it possibly be? I began to feel the bubbling of consciousness and I willed myself towards them, not swimming, but harnessing a kind of locomotion which simply carried me along.

These luminous spots were not willow-the-wisps at all, nor any other strange creature out of a fairy tale. They were lamps, and they illuminated an underground city of shell and coral. Stalagmites soared upwards from the ocean floor in myriad colors, and around them twisted vague spirits – bearded men, nymphs, ghostly sea-sprites. They beckoned me…forever onward…

I was drawing closer. They were the sea god’s couriers, guards, and statesmen. And I belonged to their kingdom.

“She is waking up. Oh god, she made it.”

I heard the voice as if from a great distance. I opened my eyes and looked about wildly, expecting to be surrounded by those strange denizens of the fjord’s bottom. Only they were ordinary people. They were my fellow passengers, gathered and looking down at me. I recognized the interior of my cabin. There was the Degas, the one of the Parisian milliners; The fire extinguisher attached to the wall.

“Wow, she was really out cold. Are you ok, miss? You must have bumped your head,” said an elderly woman as she reached to feel my forehead. “You are bleeding.”

A miracle had occurred. I gingerly peeked under my shirt and saw that my bra now consisted of two small tortoise shells, held together by rough twine. I noticed that my hands were somewhat webbed. I wiggled my toes. I had been chosen, had I not?

I’m coming Father. I’m coming Poseidon.

I shouldered my way through the concerned crowd and made for the emergency exit.