The Fisherman Wakes at Dawn

Content Warning: Death and non-graphic mentions of blood

Marshall very rarely remembered his dreams, but as of late, they had become so vivid. Perhaps it was because they were not dreams, but instead distant memories of a time when his worries were soothed by a careful sway and a white noise that beckoned his eyes to slip shut. 

He could still feel the rocking of the ground beneath him, swaying gently to lull him into a restful sleep. His entire world was nothing but this subtle swing, but there was no soft cushion of a cradle. He shifted restlessly, for the bed beneath him was cold, hard, and damp. 

Marshall tried to take comfort in the sound machine his mother had turned on for him to quiet his crowding thoughts; thoughts that screamed to him that something was wrong. The sound machine perfectly replicated the flow of the ocean. He could hear how the endless water would rise to both overtake and meld into itself as the wind commanded its sway. It was a soft, melodic sound that brought him comfort in a time where his life was completely devoid of it. 

There was something about the sound machine that bothered him, though — it didn’t crackle like one of those cheap two-way radios you buy with your best friend. No, it was clear as day, the slosh of the water audible even beneath the hard surface he slept on. If he quieted his thoughts, he thought he could hear a song. It was a beautifully low, deep groan that pleased his ears like the call of a whale.

It wasn’t until he parted his lips to call for his mother that he realized they were severely chapped. He licked at them, only to find his tongue was hardly even damp. It was a dry piece of meat in his mouth that was fruitlessly trying to rehydrate cracked lips. 

Slowly, Marshall was coming to. What finally brought him to reality was the taste of salt in the air, the nip of a freezing cold night, and the painful sting of a long-empty stomach.

Marshall attempted to open his eyes, only to find that they were crusted shut and unable to part. Perhaps this was a sign that he should just go back to sleep. Real or not, his dreams were a far more suitable world than the one that had left his life adrift in the hands of the hungry and merciless sea. He didn’t want to see anymore, because he was afraid that if he did, he would be completely alone.

In the end, the young fisherman knew he no longer had any choice. He was forced to literally pry open his eyelids just to break the crusted seals. 

After blinking away the crumbs from bloodshot eyes, he weakly crawled out from under the wooden seat to get a good look at the rest of the small oak boat. There wasn’t much to look at, but when surrounded by an unending horizon of blue, it was his salvation. He was relieved to find that he was not alone. Resting in the other seats were three of his fellow crewmates, slumped in their rotting seats. The first rays of dawn were just beginning to show themselves, soon to replace the biting cold with stinging heat. His skin was already painfully red, as were his friends’. The first light of dawn was just enough to illuminate their faces, revealing how they were staring at the vast ocean behind Marshall, spiritless.

The shaggy-haired blond in the blue coat was Gerard, who could barely keep his eyes open. Beside him was Kendal, who was woefully unprepared for the cold, with his goosebumps visible from where Marshall was kneeling. At least a full black beard was beginning to form, though he doubted it provided much warmth. Lastly there was Terrance, who was best defined by the haunted glaze over his eyes. They all had survivor’s guilt to some degree, but as captain of a fishing vessel that had long since capsized, he undoubtedly had it the worst. Marshall hadn’t been close to any of them before they were forced off of their ship, but now he couldn’t imagine never seeing them again. 

Noticing how their trained eyes never once wavered, Marshall followed their gazes and looked over his shoulder.

Land. It was land. It was far off in the distance, barely a tangible shape, but it was clearly there. Marshall rubbed furiously at his eyes before taking another look, questioning if what he was seeing was even real. “Is tha—?”

Terrance lunged forward from his seat and clamped a hand around Marshall’s mouth, looking at the fisherman as though he’d gone completely insane. 

Marshall was grateful for the intervention. In his tired state, he’d almost condemned each and every one of them to a burial at sea. They were as still as statues, listening closely for any sign that he had been heard. After a full three minutes, Terrance lowered his hand, giving the man a scolding look. Marshall nodded in a silent apology, though he would have preferred a verbal lashing rather than the cold stare. He would give his life just to hear another human speak again, but he wasn’t ready to give away the lives of others. Terrance sat down to observe the waves, and so Marshall did the same.

As the minutes ticked on, he wasn’t able to tell if it was getting closer or drifting further away. He didn’t want to fruitlessly hope for salvation, but he couldn’t help himself. He turned his gaze towards the waves as a distraction. His fingers twitched at the desire to use his hands to start paddling the boat closer to land. However, he was sure the others would throw him overboard for such an idea. He wasn’t stupid by any means, but he was desperate, and desperate men tend to do stupid things.

The waters shifted and crashed gently against the wooden boat, rocking it like the cradle Marshall so desperately longed to be back in. As the morning rays began to further reveal themselves, they danced along the waves, creating odd shapes here and there. Marshall momentarily thought he saw something moving just beneath the surface, but realized that it was just his mind playing tricks on him due to severe dehydration. 

In his under-stimulated mind, he wondered, briefly, if fish knew that land existed. It’s not like they would be able to poke their heads out of the water and see — they just didn’t possess that kind of curiosity. Instead, they swam until their world ended, and then simply turned around and swam back. They didn’t care about what lived above the waves. They had greater things to worry about.

Marshall had never once cared about what lived in the world beneath the waves, nor would he ever dive in out of his own curiosity. When he boarded that ship two weeks ago, he didn’t realize he was leaving his world and entering another. He would give anything just to never again see the world that welcomed him just as kindly as dry land would welcome a fish. 

So entranced was Marshall by the waves that he almost missed how the boat swayed to the right a tad farther than usual. Had he not been so in tune with the waves after two weeks on the water, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it, and even now he was doubting his own senses. 

Marshall glanced back at his colleagues, finding the three glancing at him and each other with eyes as wide as his own, needing verification that they’d all felt the same thing. Marshall had never been more still in his life, gripping the edge of the dinghy to feel for even the slightest vibration. His eyes were locked onto the waters, but it was too dark to see if anything was lingering in the bottomless world below. He was afraid to even swallow, worrying that it might be heard.

For the next two minutes or so, the three were left silent and incredibly tense. The only movements they made were with their eyes, both to check the water and to lock onto each other with fear.

Something bumped into the bottommost part of the hull, jolting the boat and nearly causing Marshall to jump out of his own skin. Panic barely had time to set in before another, more forceful jolt rocked through their vessel. His eyes locked with Terrance; even now, in this moment of crisis where ranks no longer mattered, he still held that instinct to follow his captain. Terrance’s lips were parted in shock, but soon they hurriedly moved to form the first words Marshall had heard in over twenty-four hours: “She’s back.”

At the sound of this, the other three men scrambled to find something to grab onto. Staying silent and unmoving was no longer an option. 

Terrance slid himself under one of the seats, but Marshall wouldn’t follow. The gash in the back of his head had just barely healed from when a sudden lurch had slammed his head into the top of a hard wooden chair. Kendal had chosen to lay curled up on the floor of the boat, hoping the strategy would save his life. 

Marshall swore under his breath as his time was draining, desperately reaching for the length of rope placed in the middle of the dinghy. If he could secure himself to one of the seats, he had at least a chance of survival. Gerard had the same idea, and they ended up grabbing both ends of the rope at the same time. They locked eyes. There wouldn’t be enough rope to anchor both of them.

Before either could make a rash decision, something rammed into the bottom of the boat, jolting it and forcing both Marshall and Gerard off their feet. In his surprise, Gerard had let go of the rope, allowing the other to snag it. This was directly before the boat lurched again, forcing him onto the floor and slamming him against one of the oak seats. He groaned in pain and struggled to rise, but was filled with alarm as the rope was nearly yanked from his grip. His gaze met Gerard’s. Neither wanted to sacrifice the other, but neither wanted to die. 

A rough crash against the right side of the hull and nearly sent them toppling over the edge. Only a second passed before the left side got the same rough treatment, causing them to stumble and crash into the other side of the boat. These actions repeated, tossing the inhabitants around like they were toys to be played with. Marshall didn’t understand why she was trying to throw them off instead of capsizing the boat like she had done with the original ship. He momentarily thought that she enjoyed playing with her food, but such a thought nearly had him vomiting.

The two were being thrown around left and right, all the while Terrance and Kenal were grasping desperately onto whatever they could just to stay in place. It was as though the boat was a wine glass and its passengers were the wine being swirled around before each sip.

As the lurching of the dinghy grew rougher, Marshall found it harder and harder to keep his footing. After a particularly hard shove against the hull, he was thrown to the right and nearly toppled over the edge. The only thing that saved him was his split second decision to drop the rope and grab onto the boat’s coaming with both hands. Unfortunately for him, Gerard took this opportunity to tie the rope around his waist and secure it to a seat in the center. The boat lurched again, and he held onto the rope to keep himself from flying off of the edge.

Marshall realized that there was no choice but to get under one of the wooden seats. Before he did, he looked over the boat’s coaming and down at the water. Just before the next life-threatening jolt, he needed to see the beast that was plucking them off one by one like cigarettes in a carton.

Something breached the water behind Marshall. He whipped his head around to catch even a glimpse of the Godless beast that so evaded his sight. By the time his eyes met the rippling water, however, she was gone, and she had taken Gerard with her. He didn’t see it happen, but he knew it to be true. A fine mist of water had met his skin, tinged with the burning heat of crimson spatter, and he could taste the salt and iron on his lips. He could still smell the rotten stench of her flesh and had heard Gerard’s pained screams cease instantly upon being dragged into the ocean. All these experiences had clued him in on the fate that had befallen his friend; everything but the sight of the monstrosity itself. It was his right to know, and he wasn’t even allowed that. 

As soon as Gerard was taken, the ramming against the boat ceased. The waters were quick to fall still and a horrific quiet fell upon them. 

After a minute of stillness, Terrance crawled out from under the wooden seat. All the while, Kendal was lifting a pant leg to see how bad the damage was after being tossed around. From the redness of his skin, there would no doubt be a few large bruises. They all had their fair share, but it was still painful to look at nonetheless. Terrance glanced at the traumatized Marshall, providing the only four words he would say for what would no doubt be the another twenty-four hours, or perhaps sooner if the beast’s appetite reemerged quickly. Gerard was a thin man, after all. “She’s gone… for now,” he whispered, his eyes focused on his friend’s hands.

Marshall looked down at his fingers, noticing he was still painfully gripping the deck’s coaming. His knuckles were white, the skin so taut over them that they were near tearing. He let go, but the tension would not cease. 

He scanned the sea. Although more light was reflecting off of the small peaks of water, nothing could be seen underneath. It was simply a wall of blue. She had come, eaten, and left, and that was all there was to it.

Marshall glanced back to where Gerard had last been standing. The only indication he had ever been there were little droplets of blood and the rope that had failed to save him. He trudged over to the rope, picking up its severed end. It had no tears, but instead possessed a cut so clean and precise that one would think it was sliced through with a blade. Unless he was being lied to, Marshall knew that none of his crewmates possessed a knife. Most would scoff at the idea that a sea creature would be able to possess the intelligence Marshall was silently proposing to himself. They say that seeing is believing, but they didn’t feel, hear, smell, or taste what he had.

What the fisherman was more concerned about, however, was the fact that there was no longer enough rope to secure him to the boat. He glanced at his remaining crewmates. There were once nine alongside him, but now only two remained. They looked at him with sympathy, but offered no words. As the waters fell silent, so did they, and it would remain that way until either they made it to shored lands, or the creature tailing them became hungry again.

Marshall focused on the shore in the distance. It almost looked as though they were getting closer, but he didn’t know if he could even trust his eyes. Hope, he knew, would only make his end all the more painful.

By this point, the sun had found its place above the horizon. Finding no reason to linger, Marshall simply gave his companions a knowing nod before crawling back under one of the seats, shielding himself from the sun’s harsh rays. 

Curling up in the shade, Marshall closed his eyes, allowing the sway of the melding waves to be his only comfort. With his ear pressed to the damp floor, he swore he could hear something below. It sounded almost like a whale song, only far deeper and louder than any whale he’d ever met in his time on the waters. It was a sound that would plague his dreams; the few that remained.

Marshall allowed the tension to leave his body as the ocean sang him to sleep. He very rarely remembered his dreams, and he hoped this was the same.