Terminal Ferry

The first thing to hit you when you step onto the train is the smell. The Sky train has its perks but the smell are not among them. Depending on the car, your buffet of aromas can include anything from B.O and foot fungus, all the way to sour milk and disinfectant. It is not the most pleasant of smells to be sure, but I have come to appreciate the breaths of fresh air awaiting those that have made the journey in the iron serpent. Today is different. Instead of taking the usual route to work or to the grocery store, today I am heading for the Ferry. Tonight I have been invited to a special gathering of like minded individuals who enjoy moonlight, dark waters, and the adventurous embrace of the psychedelic mushroom. This is a yearly get together, one I anticipate with great relish every year. Though the trips themselves have not always been pleasant, the results have always left me feeling better, about my life, the world, and my place in it.

The train dings and advises me that we have arrived at the station I need. I step onto the platform and smell the gasoline and dust from the traffic below. Down the escalator and just my luck directly onto the bus. It takes another half an hour to make it to terminal and I put in my ear buds and lose myself in a world of sci fi and fantasy for a while. Outside the window the houses become smaller and less elaborate, farms and fields take their place and I even spotted a lone cow grazing in the early afternoon sun. Clouds drift lazily above promising a storm some time in the future but not tonight. The island weather is always different from the mainland and so even if it began to rain here our event would be safe. I smile at the thought of this. I was very excited about the night’s events.

The bus pulls into the terminal and we found ourselves herded efficiently towards the next gate. Ticket in hand I board the boat and sooner then I expected we are out in the ocean. I stand on the observation deck, watching the seagull’s wheel and dance on the winds above. Suddenly some one is shouting excitedly. I turned my head and see a pod of Orca’s off in the distance. They swim gracefully, playfully. I stand transfixed for a while until something cold and wet suddenly materializes on my left shin. I look down surprised to find a small child smiling a chocolate-stained smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. In disbelief I lean down and scrape the errant ice cream cone from my shin where the child has deposited it. Well. I think. At least I am wearing shorts. The child has on old style a sailor suit , complete with stripped shirt and navy blue shorts. The sort you imagine the kids back in the 50’s. A bit strange and outdated but I figure there is no accounting for taste. Looking down at my hand and shin I mutter ‘thanks kid’. I look around for a concerned parent but find none. In fact this is the first child I have seen all day.

“Now who do you belong to ? “ I ask. The kid giggles and takes off running. Leaving me standing alone and covered in melting ice cream on my hands and running down into my socks. It takes only a few minutes to find the bathroom and clear away the mess. It would be a funny story to tell the others later but the fact that a seemingly 6-year-old child was running around unattended worries me. I go to guest serviced and let them know my concern. The woman smiles at me with an expression I do not quite expect. Something between indulgent amusement and alarm.

“looks like you met Philly. He’s around quite a bit these days”

“belongs to one of the crew does he?” I smile back at her. “cute kid, though I could have done with out the ice cream in my socks” she stops smiling suddenly and looks pale. I feel the need to explain and I say “ he plopped an ice cream cone onto my leg and it ran down to my socks.” I feel stupid saying it and when she continues to stair at me I just keep on talking “I love kids, cant have any of my own but I adore them, so I don’t mind a little ice cream in the socks if it reunites a kid with his family “ I am trying to be funny but she does not even smile. After a moment she composes herself and explains.

“Philly was the son of the first captain of this ship. He had snuck aboard one day when his father had been busy with other things and hid himself. It seems he found the large vats of ice cream and had fallen in. by the time they found him it was too late. Other people have seen him, but I do not think that he has ever ice creamed anyone before. It can’t be….” She looks at me oddly and then her face clears, and the customer service tone comes back into her voice.

“its just a ghost story, nothing to worry about, stay away from the observation deck for the rest of the trip to be on the safe side but otherwise you should be fine!” she says this so cheerfully that it makes my stomach turn. I smile back and turned to leave. Not for a second do I believe I have just met a ghost.

I go back to the observation deck. Determined to find the child and bring him to the service desk so they could find his parents instead of telling ghost stories.

By the time I arrive to the deck, the announcement that we would be arriving shortly began to blare incoherently over the speakers. People begin making their way towards the exits to line up and wait for release onto the island. I spot the child at the railing. Eating another ice cream cone and looking forlornly over the water. I approach him, stand next to him, and casually ask.

 “So where are your parents?” he looks up at me sadly and sighs. Then suddenly the world goes dark.

I find myself standing on the observation deck. Birds wheel overhead, but I cannot feel the breeze. I feel numb and strange.  I looked around slowly. There are people around me, eating, laughing. They sound muted somehow, and far away. For a moment I feel like something is missing, I sniff the air to reassure myself and realized I can smell nothing.  I feel confused. A moment ago, the deck was empty except for me and…I looked around trying to spot the boy and there he was, standing in the same spot eating his ice cream.

I walk over to him, and he looks up at me “did it hurt?” he asks, and my hand automatically goes up to the back of my skull. My hand came away bloody, and I suddenly understood.

“No” I answer honestly “Not much at all.”

“I did try to warn you.” he says sounding sad but resigned.

“I know” I reply as I look out over the water. Before us the islands looked like mountains reached out of the water and trying to touch the sky. Birds fly and whales breach the waters surface in a dazzling display of their aquatic talents.

He reaches up and takes my hand, and I squeezed it in return.

 “I was so lonely “he says looking up at me sheepishly.

“Not anymore, kiddo” I say, smiling down at him.  “Not anymore.”