Deep Sea Embers

The hard, black face of the wooden goat head stared up at Duncan and gleamed with an unnerving sense of expectations in those obsidian eyes – that’s despite not being able to show emotions.

This wasn’t the first time the statue had urged him to “set sail.” In fact, the goat-headed figurine had done so every time he came here. It’s unsettling and painful because there’s always a silent murmuring from the ship to do the same. It’s one reason he always returned to the apartment and didn’t stay longer.

Duncan didn’t utter a word for a while as he darkly contemplated the issues at hand. There are two problems he has to resolve if he wants to set sail:

First, he was the only one on the darn ship and manning this giant behemoth himself was out of the question. As a wind sailed ship, Duncan roughly estimated the Vanished at a hundred fifty to two hundred meters in length, meaning it takes no less than a few dozen experienced sailors to man or a hundred inexperienced ones to figure out.

Second, stripping out the professional factors mentioned above, another critical problem stood in the way of his voyage – he didn’t know how to drive a ship anyways, regardless of how giddy the manchild in him was behaving at the prospect.

Duncan could perhaps ask the goat for advice on using the steering wheel, but the prospect of the endless yapping coming out of that mouth gave him anxiety attacks.

Then again, he didn’t need to ask. Perhaps by fate or some supernatural will, the goat head took the initiative to speak: “Captain, do you have any concerns? If you are worried about the Vanished, rest assured that the ship is always ready to sail with you to the ends of the world. Or are you worried the voyage will be inauspicious? I know a little about divination, but what type do you believe in? Celestial signs, incense reading, and crystals are all OK too. Speaking of crystals, you remember…”

Duncan struggled to hold his inner urge to strangle the head right there and then. With suppressed annoyance, “I’ll assess the situation first up on the deck. You be quiet and stay here.”

“As you wish, Captain. But I must remind you that the Vanished has been drifting blindly for far too long. You must take charge of it as soon as possible to get the voyage back on track…” The goat head said before returning to its normal posture following a wood rubbing sound.

Peace instantly returned to Duncan’s world in that second. Breathing a sigh of relief, the throbbing resonance in his brain gradually subsided as he picked up the flintlock handgun from the table and walked out of the captain’s room.

The rather old-looking flintlock gun he found while exploring the ship was accompanied by a one-handed sword currently hanging from his waist. They gave him confidence in moving about on the vessel. Although there weren’t anyone alive here in the last few days he explored.

Talking “items” excluded of course.

The salty sea breeze hitting Duncan’s face somewhat calmed his irritable mood as he subconsciously looked up to the sky – thick clouds as far as the eye could see, no sun, no moon or stars, only a looming black cloud that never dissipates on this endless ocean. For a while, he wondered if there’s ever been such a thing as a normal weather in this world at all….

Then swinging around to face the captain’s quarter again, Duncan saw a line inscribed on the beam above the door. He didn’t recognize the letters, but once his gaze fixed on that line, he directly understood its meaning:

“The door of the lost.”

“The door of the lost… The Vanished,” Duncan muttered to himself, “this ship has a suitable name.”

He then strode around and up the stairs at the edge, leading to the stern’s upper deck. This part of the wooden platform had the broadest view and the black steering wheel for the helmsman.

This caused a frown to form on Duncan’s face. For some reason, he’s got this senseless urgency to do something at the sight of the black steering wheel. This didn’t happen before, only this time!

As if in response to the anxiety in his heart, an unexplained, chaotic wind blew across the deck, and the initially calm sea around him was instantly flooded with waves. Although this wind and wave did not impact the huge “Vanished,” Duncan was nevertheless on alert. The next second, he was staring forward at the ship’s bow in surprise.

There, between the chaotic and hazy ocean, an endless wall of white suddenly materialized out of thin air and caused him to pop his eyes in shock! This whiteness surrounded and isolated this world. Like a cliff connecting heaven and earth, this strange phenomenon reminded him of the same murky fog from his apartment.

Worst of all, the Vanished was driving itself towards the fog!

Duncan didn’t know what this whiteness did or what was in the depths of it, but he instinctively sensed danger with the firm notion he didn’t want to go there!

Subconsciously rushing over to spot where the wheel was, he wanted to do something, anything! Unfortunately, a sense of great helplessness gripped his figure once he got to the helm – he still didn’t know how to drive this ship….

Then when he least expected it, a familiar voice came from the copper pipe next to the wheel. It’s connected to the captain’s quarter down below, where the goat head sat, and its tone was unusually unnerved and frantic.

“Captain, there is a border-collapse up ahead, and we are approaching the limits of reality! Please adjust the course now!”

Listening to the frantic voice of the goat head, Duncan almost broke out yelling. He wouldn’t be standing here acting all helpless if it was so easy to adjust course. There’s no one else to help him for god’s sake!

Then he realized something, which only made him even sadder. Forget about adjusting course; the truth was, those masts in front of him were nothing but poles without a single sail!

For the first time in days, he had voluntarily placed his hand on the steering wheel in acceptance. Under these strange and dire circumstances, he had no energy left to resist the urging that constantly haunted his sanity.

But then in his blank state of hollowness, a great something incredible happened on this ghost ship….

The sound of a mountainous roaring exploded inside Duncan’s mind. As if tens of thousands of cheering men were standing on the shore to send him off for the maiden voyage, he got a strange notion that he was no longer alone but surrounded by working sailors on board shouting out commands in the captain’s name. Even weirder, he could hear the iconic merry pirate song in his ear!

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me

We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot

Drink up, me ‘earties, yo ho

We kidnap and ravage and don’t give a hoot

Drink up me ‘earties, yo ho…..

While his mind tried to wrap around the strange phenomenon, something weirder occurred – a green flame caught his attention from the edge of his vision. Looking down, it was coming from his palm that’s holding the steering wheel of the Vanished. Then before he knew it, the small blob of ghostly fire had spread across his whole body!

Under this satanic ritual, his flesh and blood transformed, turning hollow and illusory, and his uniform became worn and ragged like it’s soaked in the sea for hundreds of years. He’s not even human anymore, but a ghost captain with coursing flames as blood and flesh with a skeletal figure of unquenchable death.

Yet, despite the change, he did not feel the slightest pain from his loss. Rather, his perception widened as the ghost fire continued to sweep across the ship. First the helm, then over deck, then across the mast to form intertwined netted sails to give life to this vessel.

The Vanished, has finally started sailing again, continuing on its long voyage with an unknown destination.