Memories (Of Dreams and Demons)

Prologue Part 3 - Once Upon (2022)

This chapter is part 3 of the draft rewrite of Memories' Prologue. I hope you enjoy 😊

The blaring horn stops – giving me some peace to gather my thoughts. I turn my head back and forth – too much is about to happen at once. Two threats: the gargantuan dreadnaught and the mysterious black figure, and Hannya's barque sailing full wind towards us. How do I follow both? The large steel ship sits dead still in the ocean, there are no sails to steer it or wind to guide it. How does it move? The figure upon its bow unmoving, seeming content to watch. Despite its size, we need to turn our attention towards the imminent threat, bearing down upon us.

Kaiken's eyes go wider then I've ever seen, and she points, glaring at me, 'who is that?'

But there is no time to answer. The barque roars down towards us, seconds away, as we turn against the waves to face it more favourably. I can see its name now, a dark red-hued paint along its side: The Stomach Skewer. No doubt a play on the gruesome death end Hannya provides her enemies. Time seems to slow as we get closer to the inevitable crash, all chaos about to break loose.

Our vessel struggles at the peak of a high wave, now almost frozen still in time, like a movie scene being set to play in super slow-motion. My index finger itches, twitches, for a second wondering if there was also a rewind button. I shake my head, more fantasies. Higher still, the front half of our ship hangs precariously in the air, about to roar down defiantly to slam into the Skewer. Any moment I expect our own to split in two instead before we even reach the Skewer, to break upon the rough waters, but it holds firm, defiant.

Kaiken stands beside me, her held high, her hair whipping about in the wind. She's bloody grinning fiercely, her eyes locked on the ship about to slam into us in return. I follow her stare. Hannya stands upon the deck glaring back. A slender-robed figure, her namesake hannya mask the colour of blood. The wind behind her causes he sails to flap excitedly, eager for the coming conflict. Seagulls from both ships squawk and take flight, sensing the coming crash. We both grab nearby railings, while Ghekre just crosses his burly arms, scowling. The rodent swears.

The Skewer is larger than our own ship. Both crews frantically bustle about the decks, taking care of final tasks before finding the best grip before the crash. It's sailed the seas many years longer too however, the harsh winds of salt and time have not been overly kind to her, despite her upkeep. The wood will be more worn, softer, the frame less stable, when put to the test against our own. We will survive this collision, of that, I am sure.

The moment of collision arrives. Both ships rise high with their own wall of water, before falling to slam directly into one another. I'm jolted forward, and in any which direction, ocean water splashing into my face. Crewmates scream, some in pain, some in fear, or both. The groans of both ships as they grind against one another stubbornly drowns the screams out. But both refusing to yield to the bulky frame of the other. Wood begins to splinter apart, shrieking as it splits, pieces of all shapes and sizes are flung about. The blood of sailors below is spat upon the decks above, mingled with salt and fear.

Kaiken at my side, she instinctively grabs my hand even as I reach to grab hers, our fingers intertwined. At our touch sparks shoot forth, sparkles of light woven instinctively to protect us from the avalanche of destruction that is to come. She squeezes playfully, before a shield of light bursts forth from within us to surround the forecastle deck. Debris flying about from the vessel's collision disintegrates as it hits the shield; a barrier that protects us, as well as nearby denizens as they dive for cover within, from danger. Both ships continue their course to carve gaping holes in one another, neither giving in as each struggle to split the other in half.

The initial crash over, I glance about, surveying the damage. A mast from either ship has split down the middle, one crashing over the side into the ocean, the other caught up in the ropes and sales above us. A chain-reaction of split rope and severed knots has the rigging and lines of both ships tangled. Hannya is nowhere to be seen. Maybe one in four of the crew from either ship lie dead or unconscious from the crash. Bodies float upon the waves, some sailors crying and waving from the waters after being thrown overboard.