Short Stories, writing

Short Story Part 1

Chapter 1

Secrets survive only where they can be untouched, unspoken, and unseen; here they can remain what they are: secrets.”

January 24, 2005

2:23am

A still moon hung over hushed waters, disturbing the darkness only by its eerie, pale light that sometimes would fade with the drifting clouds. The water paralleled this stillness, neither rippling nor bubbling and, instead, taking on the likeliness of glass: smooth and untouched.

The air, however, was different that night; it quivered. If any intelligent soul were to have passed by in the moments spoken of they would be able to portray an anxiousness, an anticipation, and perhaps a form of preparation of future unknown happenings. Such a feeling could compare to that experienced just moments before the drop of a roller coaster or the split second after lightning flashes, with all waiting for the free fall or crack of thunder. Something was upon the horizon tonight, yet no hint at its encompassings was to be found.

The night carried on in this manner for some time, silent and waiting never with any elusion of what was to come. In fact, if an onlooker were to have witnessed any sort of event that particular night, they would have had only the warning of a singular light beam illuminating the surface of the water in a blood red hue. The light source, though unknown, appeared to originate from below the ocean’s surface and continued to grow in brilliance by the passing second. Eventually the beam shown to such blinding brightness that its power sliced through dark water and up into the patchy sky, casting its red aurora against the scattered clouds and moon. For several minutes it stayed this way, increasing in brightness as if whatever its source was intended to rise from the depths. However, for nearly an hour this was not the case

For reasons that will later be known to the reader, the time was approximately 3:41am when the beam began to form a shape. At first its dimensions could not clearly be made out, as the water was now rippling a bit. Eventually the red light arranged itself into a perfectly measured hexagon, resting on the water’s surface as though it floated from below. The water once again began to ripple, as if being moved by some life form from underneath. Slowly, another light took its place in the center of the hexagon and continued to increase in brilliance and size. The water in the center of the hexagon was now swirling in a small whirlpool manner and a slight breeze could now be felt. The light in the center of the hexagon now appeared close and formed itself into the shape of an X.

Faster and faster the whirlpool swirled, as if controlled by some unseen force that had taken control of the ocean’s once calm stature; and rising up in the center of it all was the ominous X appearing ever closer, ever brighter.

Finally as if all the night had built up to a singular anti-climactic moment, all went silent; all went dark. The night and its waters nearly returned to their original state: calm and untouched with no signs of the previous unknown disturbances. However the air still quivered and shuddered with anticipation. The night air was still tense and prefaced the return of what had suddenly and mysteriously hidden itself.

In a burst of fury and monstrosity, the smooth water was sliced by the surfacing of an abnormally large submarine. The red X once seen at the surface now shown on the top of the craft, and in its circumference shown the original red hexagon.

The ship continued to rise from the water in a never-ending size and strength and its revelation gave view to windows surrounding its perimeter. Pressed against the glass of one window, the face of a man was present. While his supposedly white hair was hidden by the brim of a captain’s hat, his white bearded face and chin gave reference to his current age of 62. Despite his gruff and aging appearance his piercing blue eyes performed like that of an eagle’s, surveying all that he had come across; all that he could see. His nostrils were also flared as if angry, yet from his stance it could be seen that such an emotion was not his.

He turned from the window for a moment, motioned to something or someone behind him. The latter could be assumed considering the youthful, freckled face that suddenly arrived in the window as well. This younger man has sandy brown hair that was spiked near the front and a longer, crooked nose that appeared to have possibly been broken several times. His brown eyes, in contrast to those of his supposed captains’s, wrestled with the unknown and with the fear of what he saw and he immediately recoiled from the glass and disappeared elsewhere in the submarine.

Only the captain’s face now remained, stoic and poised peering out over the dark ocean he floated upon; and it was in this slight pause that all other disturbances seemed to hold their peace and the captain’s lips could be seen forming the words, “We have now arrived.”

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