Stowaway

Hey guys!!! So this is kinda a titanic short story. I wrote it for a competition but was to late to enter it.  :( So I have these thoughts about revising it and writing a entire novel/story out of it. But I'm not sure if that's a good idea or not. So please comment with you thoughts, is it good enough to become longer? I need to know!! Haha. Ok anyway please comment, fan, vote!!

P.S. Oh and this is dedicated to my first and hopefully not only fan. Blossom_Peaches Love you!! Also the next chapter in Feather Of Fortune will be dedicated to you as well. :P Anway here we go!!

 Stowaway

         “Get this one!” A voice yelled. Suddenly I felt like I was being lifted in the air. The smell of the sea seemed to be beckoning me. I could almost hear it calling my name. The clean sawdust scent of my wooden crate was almost as strong as the overpowering scent of the ocean. My stomach was fluttering; it felt like a hurricane of butterflies was flying in crazy mixed up circles crashing into each other inside me. I was so scared, yet so excited.

         ‘Thaclunk’ My crate hit the solid deck of the Titanic. I struggled to bring my hand to my head were it had hit the wooden crates wall... ‘Clunk’ I heard a crate hit the ground. ‘Clunk’ there the noise of yet another crate hitting the deck sounded. The continuous thumping of crates hitting the deck was dampening my mood immensely, when would they finish this long loading process? I wondered to myself.

           Not a moment later I heard a gruff voice call out, “That’s the last of ‘em lets go tell the captain.” I let out a sigh of relief and waited for a few minutes until all the footsteps of the workers faded away. The deep bellowing horn signaling the departure of the ship sounded, I immediately got to work getting the lid off my crate.

           I dug around in my roomy trouser pocket until I pulled out my small, worn, pocket knife. I had used this handy tool so often that it fit into my hand comfortably. My hands explored the small splintering walls of the crate searching for a crack or a crevice of some sort to pry at; it was very dark inside my small confining space and I was beginning to get claustrophobic.

           Eventually I pried a small gap in the sealing of the crate. I felt relief at the ray of light which peeked into my crate. I stopped working and thought for moment…If it had taken me so long to make even a small hole in this wood then shouldn’t my oxygen be low? What if I died because of lack of oxygen? I wouldn’t be found until somebody smelled my decaying body and came to inspect, that scary thought caused me to work faster.

           I struggled to lie on my back and swiftly kicked as hard as I could against the lid. To my surprise it flew off. I heard it hit something which was followed by a groan. I cautiously stepped out of the safety of my small wooden crate. I looked around and saw the lid covering the top of a body; legs were protruding out and were slightly stirring. I will be in so much trouble when this person comes to. I not only snuck onto this massive, magnificent ship but now I’ve knocked somebody out.

            Forgetting the fact that I’m a stowaway; I was caught up in the fact that I had just injured someone as I ran to the aid of the stranger lying by the railing. I got down on both my knees next to the stranger.

            “Oh my goodness, are you ok?!” I asked as I removed the piece of wood from on top of the unconscious person. I couldn’t help but let out a stifled gasp as I looked into the face of a teenage boy, he looked about my age, maybe a few years older. His unruly chocolate brown hair fell just over his closed eyes. Impulsively I reached down to push the locks of hair from his eyes and instead jumped in shock as his hand darted out and grabbed my wrist. I opened my mouth to make some sort of excuse but instead said,

             “I’m so sorry, I accidently hit you with the lid of my crate!” My voice clearly displaying my panick. Oh come on, did I just say that? Yeah I did. I slapped my free hand against my forehead, resulting in my cap falling off which caused my long, curly, dark brown hair to fall down and rest against my white cotton shirt. So much for passing as a boy, I knew for a fact that boys got a little more respect then girls. I tried to reach for my cap but the boy's other hand darted out and grabbed my free hand, I looked at the contrast of his sun tanned skin against my own ivory skin. A layer of sawdust from my crate laid coated my body.

         “Please don’t tell?” I said.

            The strange boy quizzically replied, “Tell what?”  His voice had a boyish tone which almost made me smile before I stopped myself.  

         “That I’m a girl!” I said.  

            The stranger gave me a lopsided grin and said, “Does it matter that you’re a stowaway?”           How would he know that? I asked myself. Then it dawned on me, I’m sitting here dressed as a boy, trying to hide the fact that I’m a girl, and above all that I had just apologized for hitting him with a crate lid, my crate lid. “No! I mean yes, yes that matters. Please don’t tell anyone that either!” I begged.

            “Why shouldn’t I tell? I’m not getting anything in return for not telling your secret,” The boy said.

         “Uhh, err,” I stuttered.

         “I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” The boy interrupted.

         “Tell what?” I asked confused.

         “That I’m a boy,” The stranger mockingly said.

         “Err; uumm...why does that mat...” I said.

         “And that I’m a stowaway too,” The boy interrupted gravely with hint of mischief in his eye.

         My jaw dropped. “You’re a stowaway too?” I asked in shock.

            “Yes, and so are you, now that we’re done with the obvious. My name is Niles, what’s yours?” He asked. He let go of my wrists and thrust his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Sawyer,” I said as I cautiously took his hand. His hands were rough, yet his handshake was strong, but gentle. Mid handshake a voice interrupted yelling “Stop, stowaways!”

         “We seem to be pretty popular,” Niles said sarcastically.

         “Haha, if that’s what they call it now days,” I laughed as I dragged him to his feet, “let’s go.”

I couldn’t contain laughing as Niles and I ran around the deck.

            The next few days we spent in hiding, only coming out at the wee hours of the morning, or at night to steal food of some sort, until that fateful day, of April 14, 1912.

            I was just falling asleep behind a stack of crates nestled under a blanket Niles found the other day, when a shudder went through the boat. I sat up and looked around in the darkness. Niles quickly bolted to a sitting position beside me. We sat for ten minutes or so, wondering if anything had happened, when all of the sudden the boat lurched, screams and crying were heard. Niles jumped to his feet. I looked up at him scared for mine and his life. He reached down and offered his hand. “Where are we going?” I asked. I grasped his hand and wobbly began to get to my feet. “I don’t know, anywhere, as long as you’re with me.” He replied softly.

The End