Shipwrecks are scary things. It's amazing anyone can survive them at all, and yet a simple google search shows many tales of those who manage to live - mostly by chance.
Below is a story about two such survivors, one a hero in the time of need, and the other, a latent hero.
Author of a Shipwreck
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Ryan stood blocking the way to the gangplank, both hands resting gently on her shoulders.
Amanda avoided making eye contact and saw the huge expanse of dark blue behind him that threatened to take her in. She met Ryan’s gaze and nodded with a determined purse of her lips.
“Yea. Let’s do this.”
She knew this trip was as much for him as it was for her. After all, he had been there on that ill-fated day. But he seemed to cope with the tragedy far better than she had.
He held her hand and led her onto the gangplank—awkward, since it was only wide enough for one person at a time. But she refused to let go and fixed her eyes on his back. She tried to dismiss the image from her mind of walking the plank of her own execution.
Soon the walkway was replaced by white and wood: she had reached the ship. It was a much smaller vessel - so very unlike the last ship she boarded, the MV Senopati Nusantara. And yet, the lifesavers, the rafts, the railings and stairs of the main deck all reminded her of that ship. For a moment her steps faltered. When Ryan noticed she had stopped, he turned to her with concern writ on his brow.
Amanda breathed deeply and took the lead as she made her way toward the seating at the bow as they had previously agreed. She wanted to see what was coming at all times.
She sat alone in her own silent world, the white knuckles of their clasped hands the only telling sign that something was off.
“There. This doesn’t seem so bad.” Ryan smiled at her.
Ryan, the forever optimist. But that is what I love about him.
He had stuck through this thing with her, even when she told him she couldn’t remember what happened. Or when she was afraid to take a bath. Or when she couldn’t write anymore. But he seemed to understand her struggles, even if he didn’t have the same issues, and supported her. It was a rough first year of marriage. She felt bad that she wasn’t able to be a better wife for him.
I’m sure he didn’t expect the “for worse” part of our vows to come quite so soon.
She couldn’t even remember their honeymoon. At least she recalled the actual wedding and reception, and even the flight to Indonesia. Anything after that was veiled, like trying to remember a childhood dream.
They had decided to go on this boat ride up the coast of California hoping that she could remember and move on with her life.
She saw a crew member stand by the railing and remove a shiny silver object on a chain from his neck. Was that a whistle? He brought it to his lips and blew into it…
…Amanda awoke to the sound of a sharp, high-pitched whistle of a teapot. A soft breeze played with the gauzy white curtains that partially covered the doors to the balcony and the ocean view.
She sighed as she lay back in bed, basking in the memory of her wedding two days prior. The latch on the bedroom door clicked softly as Ryan crept in. Amanda, pretending to still be asleep, saw through her eyelashes that he had made her breakfast with her favorite tea. She couldn’t keep up the facade any longer and broke into laughter as he approached with the tray, an equally wide smile on his face…
...Amanda blinked back to the present, watching the crewman who had just blown the whistle, a silly grin on his face. One of the other crew members looked disapprovingly at him.
“Quit your fooling around, Mikey.”
“Ya, ya, I know.” Mikey sulked off to some duty while the other crewman announced over the ship’s PA that their departure would be in just a few moments.
No sooner had he finished speaking of the emergency evacuation procedures - to which Amanda listened intently - than did the ship lurch into motion. Amanda took in a breath through clenched teeth, watching the dock and dry land and everything that was safe slip away from her. She gripped the seat with her other hand and looked at Ryan pleadingly.
“This was a horrible mistake! I have to get off!” She sprung to her feet and made for the lifeboats, but Ryan wrapped her firmly but gently in his arms. “Hey, hey now...it’s OK. You’re gonna be fine. See? There’s not a cloud in the sky, and I’ve been checking the weather every 10 minutes.” He pulled out his phone to show her the weather was all clear for the entire week.
She stared at the the lapping waves of the harbor, but all she could imagine were torrential currents beneath the deceptively calm surface. When she looked at the sky, however, there was not a cloud to be found.
“I’m...I’ll be OK.” She calmed a bit and sat down shakily.
Just then, a loud sound of metal grating on metal came from the ship…
...the sound came from deep within the ship. She knew it shouldn’t sound like that. They had been ordered below decks due to the storm, but the ship felt more like a rusty coffin than her savior. The ship lurched again, as if it were a plaything for the sea, a feather for the wind. Amanda felt a coldness seep into her feet and she realized the ship was taking on water and was already up to their ankles.
Screams of the passengers, who up until now had been polite and obedient to the crew, rose in cries for help. The crowd, like the sea with its own surging power, undulated toward the stairs, toward the lifeboats on deck. Amanda was swept away with the tide of people, her hand slipping from Ryan’s as everyone tried to make their escape.
The water, up to her knees now, no longer seemed cold. It was the air that was cold, the people in this room who sought only their own survival. The crew had abandoned them at the first sign of trouble, taking lifeboats well before the passengers knew what was going on.
Amanda struggled to reach Ryan, somehow able to pick out his voice amidst the other cries. She saw his face in a fleeting moment, quickly covered up again by torsos and arms and faces that meant nothing to her.
She fought to reach where she last saw him, taking any opening left by those wanting to get past her just as much as she wanted to get past them. But when she arrived there, he was nowhere to be found.
A hand grabbed her arm in a vice grip and she turned to see Ryan, a look of relief plain on his face.
“We have to get to the lifeboats!” They held each other closely to create an impenetrable bulwark as they waded in the waste-high water, side by side toward the freedom of the steps...
...Mikey had reappeared from the upper deck with a rope and had opened a rusty hatch that grated in protest. After tossing the rope in, he had simply let the hatch fall with a crash. Amanda jumped with a yelp at the sound, and Mikey gave a sheepish look as he murmured an apology and scuttled away.
Tears welled up as she turned to Ryan.
“Oh God! There were so many people! And they died, Ryan! They all died!” Her words turned to dampened sobs as she buried her face in his shoulder.
Amanda remembered pushing people out of her way in panic. Of getting in a lifeboat and not wanting to let anyone else in because they’d jeopardize their survival. Unlike her, Ryan had helped others get aboard. His selflessness had shamed her in that moment. It had shamed them all.
“Shhh…not all of them died. There were other survivors like us.”
He was right. The long days floating on the raft, the endless waiting for rescue. They had pulled in as many survivors as they could and divided their sparse rations with them. Their shared suffering had galvanized them somehow. Instead of competing for survival, they had needed one another to survive.
After the helicopters brought them to safety, however, none of them had tried to get in touch with one another. They had all gone their separate ways to return to the life that was before the shipwreck. Before they were faced with their own shameful selfishness.
Amanda’s crying subsided, her emotions spent for the time being. Her grieving wasn’t over yet, but she now knew what she had to do. She pulled away from Ryan and looked up into his strong, blue eyes.
“I need to write about this. About what happened, and how ugly we were, and how beautiful we were. And how so many didn’t make it out alive.”
Amanda studied the ocean. Its gentle waves told her it was finally sated, that it no longer wanted to pull her down with the others it had claimed.
“I need to write this for those who survived.”
Note: the whistle that Mikey blew on is known as a Boatswain’s or Bosun’s whistle, used in previous centuries on naval ships to give orders to crew members. The sound is eerily similar to that of a teapot boiling.
Source
This story was written as a submission for @steemfluencer's Shipwreck Creative Writing prompt challenge. Special thanks to the Writer's Block for the editing assistance!
If you enjoyed this post, please follow, upvote, and resteem. I write posts on music, food, and short stories about anything.
Great way to rearrange the initial prompt! I love how you packed so much in here, including the flashbacks, and the very realistic emotion. Good story!
Thanks, I hope it's OK that I broke up the initial prompt like that. I tried to stay true to the information given in the prompt and the feelings associated with it.
I loved the flashbacks as well. Gave it a depth I don't think you could obtain as well otherwise.
When I looked into and thought more about being in a shipwreck, I figured there was probably a lot of PTSD in survivors from that, so that gave me a good reason to split up the prompt and start the story from after the wreck instead of before.
I could almost taste Amanda's fear and survivor's guilt. We all would like to think we'd react like Ryan in this situation, but we don't know until faced with that kind of fear. Excellent story, @morodiene.
I was recently in a minor car accident, but it took quite a while before I didn't reflexively brace for impact at having to use the brakes a bit more heavily to avoid hitting someone. I can imagine that for something even more traumatizing, the effects would be even more far-reaching and lasting. I'm sure it's very hard to recover from - and that's even without the survivor's guilt tacked on.
I am awed by this.
You @morodiene, are a genius. I am flabbergasted. Thank you for this amazing story. Just, wow.
Thanks, @jonknight! I'm really humbled by your response.
This is so good, moro! I definitely felt her emotions, both in the flashback and in the present. I love how this came out, well done! Good luck!
Thank you, @therosepatch! I imagined how I would feel having survived something like that - permanently scarred and feeling guilty for having lived. 'Did I cause someone to die by pushing them out of the way - by my own survival?'
Makes me think of being on the ferry crossing incredibly choppy Lake Michigan on the way to a wedding in Michigan years ago. The captain had said he'd never seen the water that turbulent, but that it was late in the season and could happen. A front had come through the day before dropping a tornado or two in Michigan. Glad to be on terra firma after that. And yes, the wedding was beautiful!
Ah yes, luckily, the tornados were not a foreshadowing of the subsequent marriage. :)
We were very glad you all arrived safely. Did you take the ferry back, or drive the long way around? I forget.
I guess we must've gotten a round trip ticket on the SS Badger because we returned the same way. However, it was smooth sailing, so to speak. One notable difference other than that was that Matt entertained us - and others - with his karaoke talent.
It's really an amazing story!
Thanks for reading!
Well done @morodiene! Let me leave a more detailed impression by tomorrow, because I'm almost falling asleep. Enjoy a great Friday night!!!!
I've just announced Round 2.
Thanks and sleep well!
Awesome story!!
Glad you enjoyed it!
It's sad, that no one tried to get in touch with the others after they were all saved.
I enjoyed the story. Associating the present with the past using that retrospective line is a strong backbone. If done well it's very well accepted most of the times. In my opinion you did it excellent. It's now jury's turn.
My assumption is that most people would want to forget that moment, especially if they acted in a manner that doesn't coincide with how they view themselves normally. If you think you're a good person and then under such pressure you act in a very not-good way, that's a hard truth to face. I guess most people would rather ignore that fact.
I wrote to this prompt, too, and I LOVE your take on it! You did a great job incorporating the prompt and the shipwreck into this survivor story. I’m impressed! Great job!
Thank you for reading! I plan to get around to reading everyone's responses this weekend - I'll definitely be sure to check yours out. :)
Wow, I am absolutely blown away. This is really good, and no doubt better than my own entry.
I'm always reminded of how long I have yet to go to become a really good writer when I read competing entries and other pieces of fiction from those I know from the Block here on Steemit. This time is no exception, on the contrary, it's a prime example.
Really, really good take on the prompt. Amanda wouldn't have done it better, ha!
I liked the angle you took on this too. At first, the prompts seemed really restricting. But what's cool about that is it forces us to be more creative in how we make it work. Thanks for the complements!
Wonderful way to approach the assignment with someone that is terrified of water. I thoroughly enjoyed this read!
Thank you for reading, and welcome to Steemit!