A Midnight Deal

In a century, the cruise never stays in the same location twice.

It arrives every midnight unannounced and stays open for the whole night, accommodating visitors with their entertaining acts and huge features almost too surreal to forget.

The day is still far too earlyㅡ the cruise does not leave the port yet. Once the ship is filled with passengers, it leaves without warning, moving from one place to another during its allotted time for show.

It makes an appearance and vanishes silently.

The place in the port where it docked is nothing more but an empty space that was occupied not too long ago. No one knows how long the cruise will move or where its next destination will be. Occasionally, it stays for a few days or so before travelling to its next location, vanishing before everyone's eyes. In a blink of an eye, the passengers are back at home as if nothing had happened. Like a candle's flame, it dies without notice, disappearing without a word and never returning.

A cruise present yesterday gone without a trace today.

It has been a favorite topic for many years: the enchanting performances, the perfect atmosphere, and the mysterious cruise that never re-appears in its past venues.

Or that no one has ever lived too long to ride twice.

Some travel the world blindly, stopping by different ports in different cities as they chase the cruise in hopes of stopping by coincidentally where it would appear. Some spend years travelling from town to town, and city to city, spending a large amount of money to see the cruise for a second time and, if possible, experience its splendor once again.

However, there has never been a trace. No tickets, no records, no pictures. Nothing. As if it simply vanished into thin air.

As if it never really existed in the first place.

There have been several rumors circulating in people's lipsㅡ rumors too good to be true. No one knows any fact about the cruise aside from its ability to perform and entertain. Even the most qualified followers, those who wasted years of their life running after a disappearing dream, do not have any clue. They enter the ship once, visit each tent and watch each performance, and leave the cruise clueless, as if they had not been inside. The feeling of being a part of the audience can still be remembered by those given access. However, there seems to be something lacking. They can only remember the sheer excitement and wonder but not the exact memory.

They know they have been there. They know the food tasted heavenly yet they cannot remember everything as if their memory had been clouded. 

The ship itself is a mystery, a locked door waiting to be opened. Some think it was nothing but a mere dream from a good night's sleep. Others think it was because of the stories spread by pirates and merchants years ago, fueling the imagination of both the young and old.

The answer still remains a mystery.

A woman leaned forward, drinking up the wine in the goblet she played with in her hand. The place was silent if not for the rain pouring down mercilessly on the concrete road. At eleven in the evening, a few people were running towards any shelter they could find, tugging on their long, fashionable dresses as they ran free from any rain droplet. Others were prepared, equipped with an umbrella in one hand, walking calmly as they searched for a place to rest while a few stores were open and ready to receive customers.

A few more sounds of the door's wind chime and the place would be filled. The stores merchandising coffee, in particular, were already filledㅡ with more still arriving. For once, she wished she had opened a coffee shop.

For one thing, coffee was most people's choice of drink during rainy days. Coming from a distant country, she had no idea that the place was rainy most of the year. Owning and running a coffee shop would permit her to stay indoors and be sheltered, especially during the rainy season. She could always get a free cup and enjoy the perks of earning more as more customers entered.

But, on the other hand, a liquor house wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if only people didn't feel sick and throw up afterwards.

Besides, she preferred coffee over wine. It's such a shame she decided otherwise.

Coffee shops offered warmth and happiness. It was a place where people could meet up and have a good, relaxing time. The atmosphere it gave was light, as if it was a mixture of clouds and beautiful, warm days. Wine houses offered the oppositeㅡ it was a place where troubled people went. The atmosphere was usually sorrowful, a mixture of heavy rain and the wish to forget. Some were mourning for their loss while others had their hearts broken by sailors and pretty maidens.

She was robbed when she decided to put up a liquor store.

"No customers today?" her bartender asked, whisking out a bottle of wine as he emerged from one of the cellars. She shook her head, glaring at the coffee shops just across the road.

He chuckled, sauntering over to her and refilling her cup as he glanced at the coffee shops too. He let out a small groan.

"I knew I applied at the wrong store," he scoffed, pouring himself a glass too.

She nodded, sipping her wine. "I knew I put up the wrong store," she sighed, averting her gaze. "Any news about the ships at port?"

He pondered for a bit before motioning for her to move closer. She frowned, gesturing to the empty place to which he replied with a firm no. She leaned forward, humoring him.

"I've heard that the Spanish ships arrive tonight at around a quarter to twelve," he whispered. "Ah, and the ships from the north leave before the Spanish ships arrive. I've heard that you were planning to sail to France. There's a ship that goes straight to the Le Havre port. It'll take a few days."

"Any unregistered ships from Russia?"

He looked confused for a second. "No, but from the west, yes. It arrives in a fortnight. I told you, only Spanish and Northern ships arrive today."

She paused for a bit before waving her hand in dismissal. Taking a final sip from her wine, she stood up and began walking away.

"Thank you," she replied. "Close the shop before going elsewhere. Have a great evening, Donovan."

It was raining cats and dogs as she walked along the sidewalks, steering away from the droplets as much as she could. From a distance, she could barely see the port. If not for the lights that lit the area, anyone could walk into it and accidentally fall into the water as it was too dark to see anything, and the fog wasn't of any help.

She could her the echoes of her shoes as she walked, glancing for the final time to stare at the coffee shops and making a vow to open one after she returned from her trip to France. The wind blew her hair, messing it as it raked over her soft, black waves. It kissed her face as if it was calling herㅡ urging herㅡ to come to the sea.

Upon arriving at the port, she waited for the said ship to arrive. There were a few people lined up on the other side of the port, staying as far away from the rain as possible. She stood under a shed and patiently waited.

A memory of a decade ago flashed into her mindㅡ the storm, tough waves, a humongous ship, and midnight deals.

When she was younger, on her eighteenth birthday, as she waited in line to board a ship to Russia, it rained hard. Most of the people left while others patiently waited for the rain to die down. It was not long before a mysterious ship arrived at the stroke of midnight. It was as dark as the night sky yet held wonders she never would have imagined.

She could remember walking up the bridge, confused as to why the ship was nothing she had ever seen.

Ah, right.

For a moment, she turned pale after a few hours of roaming around and looking for her place inside, thinking she boarded the wrong ship.

She rushed back to get off only to watch the ship sail away to who knows where. With a few deep breaths and the move to calm herself down, she rumaged through her things, looking for anything to give just to pay, owing to the fact that she had not enough gold or bronze to fund the luxurious fare.

She had nothing but her ticket, and clothes, and she doubted clothes would be acceptable.

"Tickets, please," she heard a voice say.

The passengers handed their tickets, smiling as they went to their respective rooms. She could feel her heart pound as the man kept getting closer and closer. After a few agonizing seconds, he was in front of her, politely tipping his hat.

"Tickㅡ"

"I think there has been a mistake," she immediately said, holding her hands up as if to surrender. He looked at her with confusion, raising a brow at her hands.

"Is anything the matter?"

She nodded, "Where is this ship headed, sir?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular," he replied with a smile, holding back a chuckle of amusement. He extended his hand and, in a blink of an eye, held a brown piece of paper in between his thumb and index finger. "I believe this is your ticket, ma'am."

He waved her ticket in front of her with a friendly smile. Unconsciously, her hands found her way to her pockets, confusion flooding through her as she realized that her ticket was no longer in her possession.

She looked up, but he was no longer there.

The cruise was nothing she had ever dreamed of. She grew up traveling from different countries, boarding large galleons and passenger ships. All were uncomfortable, and were nothing compared to this. It was too good to be true.

For days, she roamed around, admiring the view and the accommodations it offered. The services were splendid, and the shows every night were delightful. Some illusionists would do tricks in front of a large audience, impressing them.

In spite of the splendor, there was something about it that just didn't feel right.

She stared at the darkness as she stood alone in silence, leaning forward to admire the beauty of the sky and the waves.

A voice shook her from her silent thoughts.

"Can't sleep?"

She glanced sideways, watching as the man who took her ticket approached her. She nodded. He gave her a friendly smile, "Don't worry, you're on the right ship," he assured her.

She did not respond.

He pulled out a deck of cards, shuffling them in front of her. "They say midnight deals are tempting yet deadly," he began, holding up a card between his index and middle finger. "Want to play?"

She hesitated.

He waited before tilting his head. "Well?"

She obliged, reaching out to participate in his little game.

Then she woke up.

She was in her bed in Russia. The boarding house smelled of old wood and something she couldn't quite describe. The landlady knocked, calling her out. She stood frozen in bed, a hand running through her waves as she tried to remember how she arrived but nothing sat right. She knew she boarded the wrong ship, sailed on a fancy cruise, yet, in a blink of an eye, she was at her destination.

It was like a dream. A fleeting dream.

"All passengers sailing to France!" a loud voice called. She quickly walked up to the queue, imediately falling in line and following a group of people as they boarded a ship.

It was dark and foggy. Surprisingly, the rain had stopped and the area was oddly silent. She continued to walk to where her feet would lead her, shrugging off the unusual air that welcomed her aboard. A breeze touched her face, passing by as it blew her hair the other direction.

She shivered, glancing around. She squinted her eyes, noticing how the people were no longer around.

She was alone.

Her eyes roamed the ship, scanning her surroundings. Waves of nostalgia washed through her as the familiar sceneries appeared before her.

The ship began to move.

"Wait!" she yelled, snapping back to reality as she glanced at the port but stopped upon noticing that she was the only one there. All the people standing earlier were gone.

A chill ran down her spine, forcing her to check her pocketwatch. It was twelve o'clock.

A hand tapped her shoulder, making her turn around. The familiar features of a soft and friendly yet mysterious man greeted her, followed by the tipping of his familiar black hat. It was the man she had seen a decade ago. What puzzled her more than the missing people or the re-appearance of the ship was the fact that he and the crew never appeared to age.

He held up a card, blowing it to her face to which she was about to swat away, halting midway upon noticing that, like the people on the port and, supposedly, but unfortunately not, on the ship, it vanished.

The man smiled.

"Tickets, ma'am?"