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“Now, listen here, lad. We need this whole thing swabbed today, ya hear?” I say to the young man in front of me.

“Aye, Cap’n,” he says, his voice as sincere as could be. As it always is.

“OK, so, I hear ye saying ‘aye.’ And I feel like ye mean ‘aye.’ But I really, REALLY need ye to work with me here. This ship’s a team effort here, son. Savvy?”

“Aye! It is! Yes, Madame Captain, I’ll do my best!”

“Ok. Because... I mean, last time, I asked ye, and yet, the deck still looked dull as my ol’ Auntie Edith, bless her heart. That is, i' t’weren’t clean at all, if you recollect...” I say. I put my leg upon the wooden crate next to me and lean in against the sway of the boat as it bobs over the waves.

The young lad looks down at his boots. Then his soft brown eyes dare to look up, to meet my own. “Aye, Captain. ‘Tis true. This time, I promise. Naught can stop me!”

“That’s the spirit!” I say with a grin and clap the boy on the shoulder heartily.

The lad beams at me.

“Right, then. I’ll be below deck, fussing with my maps, and doing other such captainly pursuits. You, though? You’re in charge of swabbing this deck.” I grab the mop handle, and thrust it forth.

He takes it into his hand and beams at me. “Aye-aye, Cap’n!”

“That’s a good lad!” I say and pat his shoulder once more before retreating down the narrow staircase to the quarters below.

After a time, I hear scuffling and scrambling overhead. I look at the hourglass I’d set, and the last grain of sand tumbles down. More scrambling overhead. A light crack in the air, and something scratch-scurries its way across the ceiling. Whatever that is on the deck, it is most certainly NOT the sound of steady moppin’ and tidyin’!

I march away from the table. I can feel my face muscles pull into a scowl as I stomp up the steps. “What in Neptune’s great kingdom is going on up here?!” I shout.

“Captain! I’m sorry!” says the lad as he runs over, holdin’ his hat to his head with one hand, other hand flappin’ as he tries to stay upright, slippin’ and slidin’ all the way over to me.

I take stock o’ the ship. There’s dots an’ streaks of black sludge slathered all over the deck, astern to bow. My jaw drops. I gesticulate wildly with my hands, while only sputtering noises escape me.

He cowers. “I- ... I... I don’t rightly know what happened, Madame Captain, sir. It’s... It’s the oddest thing. These kittens. They just... appeared!”

I stare at him, deadpan. “Kittens.”

“Aye, Captain! I know, it sounds crazy, but-”

I cut him off by holding a hand up.

He quietly holds his hat in his hands and trembles.

“This is a right mess. It’s worse than when I left ye! I’m so far past the line of cross I can’t even be seein’ it no more, and I don’t need any fibs about KITTENS.”

“I swear it, Madame Captain!” he cries.

As he speaks, a kind of crack sounds in the distance. A black speck appears in the sky. What is that? A bird? It grows before me eyes! It’s a right large crow, flying straight at us. I duck, but it’s too late. The bird smacks right into my chest. And I feel a pain like I been hammered with a club of sharp nails!

“Mew,” the crow says.

“This is no crow,” I say, pulling the clump away from me, eyeing the teensy cutlasses at the end of its wee paws. I drop it on the deck, where it skitter-scrambles away. “WHY is there a KITTEN covered in TAR on my SHIP?!” I screech.

“This is what I’m sayin’, I don’t understand it, I started moppin’, and next thing I know, these landed, and I been trying to grab ‘em, and there’s not just one, Cap’n, there’s loads...”

“Stop! STOP! Lemme think and stop runnin’ yer mouth, lad!”

Another crack sounds in the air.

“Cap’n, watch out!” the lad cries.

I duck again, and another mass of black hits the deck with a squelch, then gives a tiny, happy, “mew,” and that mass scrambles off too. “Huh, they do just land on their feet,” I mutter.

The lad chases after it.

“STOP chasing them!” I command.

“But I’ve almost got them! I can'na' stop now, Cap’n!” he shouts, not even looking back once. He runs straight through the tar, dragging it across the deck, eyes glued to the newest kitten.

“Mew!” I hear from the left. Another, “MEW!” answers in response on my right.

I glower into the distance, and on the horizon, I see it. The outline of... well, of something headed straight for us. It comes closer and closer, at great speed, and as it does, I see a mess o’ mirrors wound up in knotted rope hanging from the mast. Both masts. Wait. Each of three masts?! What am I even lookin’ at here?

Bright colored ribbons of various lengths whip wildly in the wind. A cannon on this odd skipper makes a crack in the air, and suddenly – SPLICK. “Mew!” the black blob announces happily. And that one scuttles off, too. “Mew! Mew! Mew!” the kittens cry, echoes coming from every direction as they sprint around the ship.

I ROAR with all my might – “STOPPPPP!” but it is no use.

“Aah!” I cry and cover my eyes, as the glare of one of the incoming ship’s mirrors throws sunbeams directly into my face. “CURSES!” I cry.

“Is that any way to greet a friend?” a deep voice bellows out. I look up again, and the ship with three masts, a sprinklin’ of mirrors, and a herd of kittens running in all directions, has pulled up just next to ours.

“FRIEND?” I ask, incredulous. “What kind of friend pelts someone with tar covered kittens?”

“Here, kitty, kitty,” cries the lad as he runs past me. *stick stick stick* His tar covered footsteps are destroying my current patience AND any spare wells I might’ve had for at least the next fortnight!

“LAD! STOP!” I cry, to no avail. He doesn’t even hear me. Sometimes I think I’d’ve tossed him overboard ages ago if he weren’t me own kin!

The tall man on the other ship chuckles to himself. “He won’t stop,” he says, and strokes his long black beard.

“Why are you doing this to us?” I ask.

“I am Captain Aydee, Hinderus Distractora, ruler of these seas. I need no reason to do as I please!” He set his hands on his hips, proud as a peacock. “You can call me Captain Aydee, H.D., if you please.”

“You... You must have a reason for launching these kittens over here, surely?” I pry.

He smiles widely at me. “I don’t always launch them from a cannon. See?” He picks up a kitten, dunks it in a bucket of tar at his feet, and tosses it toward me. It lands on the edge of the ship’s railings. “Mew!” it announces and jumps aboard.

“That doesn’t answer me question at all!”

Cap’n Aydee laughs heartily. “What? Anyway! I just do what I want. And right now, I want to do this!”

“You right bastard,” I sneer.

“I know, right?” he says, with a pompous air about him.

“GO AWAY!” I shout.

“Oh, ALL RIGHT, I will. But... I’ll be back. And you’ll never guess when. I just come and go as I please.”

“Just GO!” I shout.

He shrugs. “Fine, fine,” he says. And he calls to someone to steer the ship a different direction. Is that-? Is that a monkey at the helm?? Before I can rightly tell, the ship pulls away, and I watch him go, rainbow ribbons, shiny mirrors, and sails pointed every which way.

I shake my head. I survey the damage, then take a deep breath. I call out to the lad.

“Yes, Cap’n?” he asks. He’s holding 4 sticky kittens in his arms as he runs up to me.

“Wash these kittens. There’s a good soap should do it downstairs.”

“By myself?”

“Nay,” I say. I reach out and ruffle his hair and give him a wee smile. “I’m afraid to leave ye alone after that. Weird things like this always seem to occur around ye, lad.”

“That weird Captain guy, I maybe’ve seen him before? I reckon he follows me.”

“Aye,” I say with a nod. “Methinks ye may be right about that, lad. Come, let’s wash up these kittens.”

We scrub and wash and scrub some more, and it’s hours that go by before we’re through. But at last, the kittens are all clean, and all tuckered out. It’s time to turn in, but I don’t know that I can. Not just yet. I tell the lad to turn in while I go to the deck to throw down soapy water mixed with the ol’ deck shinin’ oil, and scrub heartily to clean up the footprints of so many kittens and one excitable lad. I do what I can under the light of the moon before heading back below deck.

I feel the ache in my bones. I make sure the young lad is tucked into his bed, soft quilt wrapped around him. His rosy cheeks and long lashes give him the look of angel. It’s been a long day. A pile of kittens sleeps soundly on the bed with him.

I sigh, and strip down to me skivvies, and crawl into me own bed. I watch the kittens, and me boy, and smile. What adventures will tomorrow bring? For now, it’s quiet, and at least I know whatever may come our way, we’ll face it, and we’ll do just fine, as long as we do it together.
megatronix: (Default)
I am already gripping the bony hand to steady myself when it occurs to me to wonder how I got here. I look up to face whomever is helping me onto the boat, wobbly in the unsteadiness of wood on water. A tall shrouded figure seemingly grows taller as I sink onto a creaking plank of a bench. The robed figure looms over me, meets my gaze, but within the hood, there is only black, inky darkness, a gaze with so strong a pull that I am nearly lurched out of my seat into infinite oblivion. I somehow tear my gaze away, rest my hand on my heaving chest, panting to regain control of my breath.

The figure faces away from me now, and I know it is only by the grace of their decision to release me that I am still sitting here in one piece. My hand trembles, and I take a long deep breath, feeling the dank air in my lungs, as vague memories of an attic, or could it have been a basement?, drift to the surface, stirred up by the scent of this place.

The figure holds a long staff, and pushes it into the water. The boat gives a small heave forward and the current ushers us along, slow and steady.

Mists crawl along the water’s surface, and the lapping water sounds like whispers; secrets determined not to be uttered, yet yearning to be heard.

I dare to risk a glance beyond the shores to our left and right as we pass. I see only swaths of darkness, with the barest hints of light, a mere suggestion of the concept.

"Here," says the figure, and each of my bones rattle at the sound of this utterance.

I raise my eyes just enough to see that he has extended something to me, a stick perhaps? I take hold of the gnarled twisted thing, and notice the splintered frayed bits at one end. The waters move us and we round past a pile of boulders, through a low hanging stone arch. I pull my head down low, and feel my hair brush lightly against the low ceiling of the tunnel. Sounds of water rushing grow louder. Our skiff moves through the tunnel, and jerks forward over a small wave, picking up momentum, as we enter a more open cavern, with tall walls and high ceiling. Stalagmites and stalactites surround us, reaching out for one another like hands across a divide. Perhaps even they seek each other’s comfort in this place.

The shrouded figure still impossibly standing, turns to face me, black cloak flowing around him, like the river itself.

"Choose," he states with a voice that is at once nowhere and everywhere.

Once again, a shudder flows through the whole of my being.

Just beyond my guide, there are two tall towers of calcification, and atop each one, a fire burning bright, beacons lighting the space, illuminating two potential paths. For beyond the towers sit two cavern entrances, each entry a precipice as dark and black as the shrouded figure's faceless void.

Our craft travels straight ahead, surging toward the rock wall separating the two caverns. Now I understand. My eyes dart back and forth and I yell, “That way!" and point with my gnarled frayed stick to the cavern on the right.

My guide barely waves his hand, and the boat changes directions, flowing toward the path I'd chosen.

Then, a voice from the left cavern rings out. And I know it. I know the voice! "Stop!" I say. But the shrouded figure has turned away from me and does not look back. Our boat stays the course. I stand.

"STOP!" I scream. The boat goes on.

I stumble with the pitch and toss of the wooden craft over the current. As we pass the large stalagmite torches, I make another decision: I leap!

I land hard against the stalagmite tower, and my hands struggle to gain purchase of the calcified tower. I desperately grasp at it. My fingers and wrist find their place among the many levels of tiered rock. I cling with earnest. Granules like salt sift beneath my fingertips, tiny bits and shards fall between my fingers and disappear into the waters rushing just below my feet. Even my feet and knees now grip with everything I’ve got as the mists snake around my ankles.

What have I done?

What do I do now?

Just then, from straight ahead, from deep within the cavern I'd chosen, I hear it - music. The darkness emits the most beautiful sonorous melodies I have ever heard. Without even thinking, I reach a hand towards it as if to grab hold, so compelling is the force of its beauty. And it is then that I see that I'm still holding the twisted stick in one hand. Tears fall down my face as I listen to love and life in keys and chords. I soften my grip and lean toward the music, filled with it, yearning to be closer to it, to become it.

And then... I hear it again. That voice. I know nothing… But I know that voice.

The left cavern is fading into darkness, and with it, the voice. I lean that way to listen, to make out the words. What are they saying?

In front of the dwindling torch, the darkening entrance, fading as the torch fades, the flame dwindling down, down to an ember, and then, to nothing.

It's gone.

The tower, the cavern, disappear from view, and the voice along with it.

Something stirs within. NO! I can't, I can't just... I won't let it... be gone!

I thrust my hand upwards and jam my stick into the fire overhead. I reach as high as I can and within moments, a flash. The frayed ends ignite.

Before I can change my mind, I release the rock beneath my grip and slide into the misty waters, hand held high. The icy current pushes me, stronger than I even expected, and I stretch my hand upward to protect the flame. My head bobs under the water, and my lungs burn as I try not to gasp against the cold. I hear a rush of voices, so many sounds, an onslaught of hopeful tendrils of longing. They reach for me. I kick hard and get my head above water and take a deep gasp of air. I kick as hard as I can, and sweep my arm through the water, with willing my one armed swim to be enough, to get me where I need to be.

I feel for it in the darkness and my hand grabs at anything, grabs at hope itself, but slips off of smooth wet stone.

This is it, though, it must be it. The dark tower.

I search desperately with my fingertips as my head goes under again, the cold water stinging my face. I hold one hand and torch still above the water, but only just. My other hand wildly attempts to swim upwards, to rise above the river’s surface.

I open my eyes wide against the darkness, and kick against the current. I do it! I breach the surface again, another gasp, and grab tight with fingertips and fingernails. I pull as hard as I ever have for anything.

There! I have it! I grab hold of the base of the rocky tower.

I latch myself onto the tower, still gripping the torch. I work my way up, inches at a time. With one hand I grip my other wrist, so that I can keep hold of the torch, still lit. I raise my feet, grab a new toehold, and push my whole body higher up, then readjust my arms. Higher, a little higher, until, with my raised torch, I see in the glow the blackened top of the extinguished torch. And I thrust my hand towards it. My torch touches the end, and slivers of black smoke unfurl from it, and roll away. Then, a spark. A flame. The torch is lit. And there is the entrance to the left hand cavern once more.

"HELLO?" I call into the void.

"Lacey!" I hear the voice say.

I look around for the boat. "Come back! I want to go this way!" I shout. But my captain is long gone.

"Laceyyy..." the voice says, quieter this time. The music, the indescribably lovely music calls out to me too, from the opposite side, though I hear that quieting as well.

I look at each cavern, the music, the voice, both fading. The two towerlights fading, the torch in my hand, dying out.

There is no more time to waste. One last look at the direction of the impossibly beautiful melodies, and tears fall as I turn away from it, release my grip, and dive into the frigid water, toward the cavern on the left, and swim as hard and fast as I can, even as the waters push me that way. There are a thousand voices in my head as I swim these waters, an abundance of memory and hope and hopelessness coursing around me, but only one voice I ache to reach...

and then...

Am I swimming in cotton? Am I even moving?

"Lacey? Oh, Lacey! There you are! My god!"

"Mom?" I say. I think I say..?

There are other noises, beeps, muffled things, none as important as the voice I'd heard, now right next to me. Mom's.

"Lacey, no, no, lie still..." Mom says.

“Lacey, can you hear us?” an unknown voice asks.

I watch my mother's eyes, so tired, so happy, as they fill with hope and tears that overflow down her cheeks.

She's holding my hand, the way she always has done when I've had a rotten cold, or any time I just felt sad. She holds my hand now, tight, and kisses the back of it, never loosening her grip, even as the other voice continues to speak.

Then a bright light shines into my eyes, first one, then the other. Ouch.

"Pupils responsive," the voice said. Then continued, "Lacey, can you blink for me, please?I'm Dr. Vanessa Easton. Please don't try to speak. There's a tube in your throat helping you breathe. You've been in an accident.”

I blink.

“It's good to have you back with us,” the doctor says with a smile. Then, to my mom, she adds, “She is strong. This is a very good sign that she pulled through that. We’ll keep monitoring, of course. I think she's really turned a corner. You’ve got a fighter, there.”

My mom nods, and tries to speak. She smiles, tears fall, and she manages, “Thank you..”

I think I like Dr. Easton.

My mother kisses my hand again. “Lacey... you came back to us... Oh, I love you so much. Thank you, thank you.....” she says and sniffles.

It's ok, Mom. I'm here, I say. In my head, anyway. I'm right here.

I give her hand a soft squeeze.

"Oh!" she says and squeezes back so hard it hurts. But I don't mind.

A suggestion of a memory of a melody floats faintly in the back of my mind. What is it?
I'm not quite sure. It just feels like... like some day, I’ll hear it again. Perhaps a long, long time from now. But not yet.

Not yet.

ASAGA

Oct. 21st, 2020 05:26 pm
megatronix: (Default)
All right, it has happened! I've been sorted into ASAGA!



This feels like some weird Hogwart's-Survivor crossover!! haha!

*high fives* to all my fellow ASAGANS!

I'm really glad we got the Teal colored flag. And Australia!! Ah, Australia, always close to my heart.

So excited to play with everyone!!

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