ELDRITCH NIGHT (Rough Draft)

Chapter Fourteen: Homecoming

"Hello, Gus," said a familiar baritone.

I opened my eyes and took in the scenery around me. Blue sky stretched out above me, a canopy untouched by even the barest hint of clouds. The water that stretched out around me jumped and shimmered as it reflected the warm light of the sun. Small waves crested and splashed against the hull of a wooden rowboat.

I sat at the stern of the boat, facing forward. Across from me sat a man wearing a pair of white, linen shorts and a worn orange t-shirt. He faced me as he rowed with a strong and steady pace. His face was beginning to show its age, his hair now more salt than pepper and crow's feet were deepening around his eyes. A tight, close-mouthed smile touched only half his face as he chewed on a blade of grass.

A quick hiss and the clink of metal on glass woke me from my shock as the man handed me an opaque green bottle.

"Here you go, son." He winked as I accepted the beer by reflex. "Let's just not tell your mom about this one, all right?"

"Dad?" I said. "How are you here?"

I looked around me once more, "Where are we?"

The water seemed to stretch out infinitely in all directions, as if the small boat was adrift in the middle of the ocean. There were no gulls or the familiar sounds that would indicate nearby land.

I recognized this boat, but we'd only ever used it on the lake at my cousins' place. It wasn't built to go out this far.

"So many questions," he said. "Why don't we just fish?"

He reached down and picked up an old bamboo rod with a cork handle, as he did my eye was drawn to an old tackle box. The box was grey and dented, still bearing the scars of two generations of father-son fishing trips. On the front, just below the clasp, was an old sticker, peeling and faded. I could barely tell what cartoon it depicted, but I remembered putting it there as a child.

The memories hardly felt real, as if they had happened to someone else. I just couldn't reconcile that time with the way the world was now.

"This isn't real," I said. I stood, steadying myself as the small boat rocked. I threw the bottle smashing it across the bow. It shattered, raining small pieces of glass onto the floor as the rest sank into the ocean.

I found it hard to get angry. Despite trying to rile myself up enough to confront this imposter I remained calm. Unnaturally so. I could only act out what I felt I would do if I was truly angry.

I yelled, kicking at the side of the boat causing it to tip further before steadying itself.

"Isn't it, though?" said the thing wearing the face of my father. He ignored my outburst, as if he saw through the act.

"No," I said. "You can't be real. This is an illusion, a fantasy."

"Oh, that." He waved his hand in dismissal. His smile now crossed his face from one ear to the other. "This place is as real as any other. The fact that it doesn't exist hardly matters.

"We can feel, interact with, and even change it." He cast a line into the water and I could hear a small splash as a red and white bobber gently rolled on the surface of the water. "And do not believe, even for a moment, that what happens here doesn't have consequences."

The boat rose up as a wave passed under us. A massive shadow now darkened the water beneath the row boat. I leaned over the edge of the boat to look, the shadow moved quickly but was massive enough that it still took almost a minute for it to pass. As it went I saw the bobber disappear with the twang of a broken line.

"Things exist here, churning beneath the water. Things best left alone," said the voice of my father.

"And are you one of those things?" I asked. "What do you want with me?"