steps slow. I wanted to go to her, but alas I couldn’t. The young man, Michael, never left her side. I experienced every jolt of her body, every cough, every uncomfortable position. It sickens me to be in this state waiting to be cast again into the nothingness that my immortal body forces upon me. I am bereaved to think that her oncoming sickness could provide a fatal outcome. The effect of my immortal stasis sending me into unconsciousness is coming. Living so many years as vampire I know the signs. I hope and pray that she can withstand what’s coming her way.
I think back on my times lying in death ’s sleep, her face shining brightly as in a dream. She is wearing taffeta and lace. Her feminine form perfection in her womanly dress.
A cadence breaks me from my thoughts of her. A deep rambling is muffled on the air. Evening has fallen, and I pull aside the window dressing and look out of my cabin. On the main deck, I watch the crew by torchlight pulling the riggings and lowering the sails. Another squall must be making its way to us. I hope it is only a storm. The crew is chanting a beloved sea shanty.
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow
And it ’s time for us to leave her.
Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
She shipped it green and none went by.
And it’s time for us to leave her.
Fare thee well , Sybrina, until I may awaken . I fear something always comes back from the sea.
Sybrina:
I am back on the crates with the book so cherished by the crew that it is treated as though it holds the answers to the stars. It is wrapped tightly with a soft cloth shrouding it from the elements of the harsh sea. Gently, I unwrap it and hold it tightly in my hands.
My head aches and I feel the beginnings of a fever setting into my skull. I am unwell but do not wish to disappoint those who have waited patiently all day to hear the story. Slowly but surely, the seamen make their way over from a little crevice here or there, spread out across the vessel. The cook is wiping his hands on a ragged cloth as he makes his way to us. The forms of these seafaring men range from gangly and small to rippling with muscle. Some are barefoot, while others wear worn-out boots. Mouse skips childishly toward me with mischief in his eyes.
“ Hello.” I smile, regaling in the delight of seeing him. His demeanor and disposition are so different from our first meeting. He leans over my shoulder to examine the pages I am ready to read with a boyish exuberance.
“ Good evening. I hope you had a most productive day,” I remark cordially. Mouse grins at me like he has swallowed a secret and inclines closer to me.
“ I did... miss.” He emphasizes the word and steps back to gauge my reaction. I nod in a subtle response. I clear my raw throat.
“ Shall we begin?”
About twenty minutes and a chapter, I am spent. My energy is gone. It must be apparent to the crew. Mr. Tinker takes the book from me with a hearty thank you. “I note a malady comin’ upon ya,” Mr. Tinker whispers when he is close. I signal with a nod. Quietly, the crew mingles and disperses, going back to whatever their charge may be this early evening, leaving topside desolate.
Mouse escorts me to the ladder that will take me back down into the hull of the ship to sleep among my fellow passengers. We are alone under the night sky, the deck vacant. I close my eyes and take some cleansing breaths of the fresh sea air before my seclusion below. My joints ache and my head feels thick; a feverish ailment has befallen me, there is no doubt.
“ You there!” My eyes pop open and I look around, knowing all too well the voice that spoke the words. “You there, I say!” Mouse casts a fearful and pleading gaze as our eyes meet. “Mr. Rufus! Come forth!” A scrabbling Rufus makes his way to us. It is
I think back on my times lying in death ’s sleep, her face shining brightly as in a dream. She is wearing taffeta and lace. Her feminine form perfection in her womanly dress.
A cadence breaks me from my thoughts of her. A deep rambling is muffled on the air. Evening has fallen, and I pull aside the window dressing and look out of my cabin. On the main deck, I watch the crew by torchlight pulling the riggings and lowering the sails. Another squall must be making its way to us. I hope it is only a storm. The crew is chanting a beloved sea shanty.
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow
And it ’s time for us to leave her.
Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
She shipped it green and none went by.
And it’s time for us to leave her.
Fare thee well , Sybrina, until I may awaken . I fear something always comes back from the sea.
Sybrina:
I am back on the crates with the book so cherished by the crew that it is treated as though it holds the answers to the stars. It is wrapped tightly with a soft cloth shrouding it from the elements of the harsh sea. Gently, I unwrap it and hold it tightly in my hands.
My head aches and I feel the beginnings of a fever setting into my skull. I am unwell but do not wish to disappoint those who have waited patiently all day to hear the story. Slowly but surely, the seamen make their way over from a little crevice here or there, spread out across the vessel. The cook is wiping his hands on a ragged cloth as he makes his way to us. The forms of these seafaring men range from gangly and small to rippling with muscle. Some are barefoot, while others wear worn-out boots. Mouse skips childishly toward me with mischief in his eyes.
“ Hello.” I smile, regaling in the delight of seeing him. His demeanor and disposition are so different from our first meeting. He leans over my shoulder to examine the pages I am ready to read with a boyish exuberance.
“ Good evening. I hope you had a most productive day,” I remark cordially. Mouse grins at me like he has swallowed a secret and inclines closer to me.
“ I did... miss.” He emphasizes the word and steps back to gauge my reaction. I nod in a subtle response. I clear my raw throat.
“ Shall we begin?”
About twenty minutes and a chapter, I am spent. My energy is gone. It must be apparent to the crew. Mr. Tinker takes the book from me with a hearty thank you. “I note a malady comin’ upon ya,” Mr. Tinker whispers when he is close. I signal with a nod. Quietly, the crew mingles and disperses, going back to whatever their charge may be this early evening, leaving topside desolate.
Mouse escorts me to the ladder that will take me back down into the hull of the ship to sleep among my fellow passengers. We are alone under the night sky, the deck vacant. I close my eyes and take some cleansing breaths of the fresh sea air before my seclusion below. My joints ache and my head feels thick; a feverish ailment has befallen me, there is no doubt.
“ You there!” My eyes pop open and I look around, knowing all too well the voice that spoke the words. “You there, I say!” Mouse casts a fearful and pleading gaze as our eyes meet. “Mr. Rufus! Come forth!” A scrabbling Rufus makes his way to us. It is
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