Captain Grue's wicked cool portfolio

One

As a child she remembered swimming in the ocean and getting her right foot stuck under a shifting rock. Caught under the surface and unable to scream for help, Kylie ripped her foot away while scraping a chunk off her leg. With a burning wound she made it back to shore where she could see her father standing idly by, watching. He would morph into a hooded abomination twisting out of shape as Kylie blacked out.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The deadline loomed over her like a cloud of black smog. She had no more extensions remaining; the article had to be in by 9:00 PM tonight. Her boss wanted an outsider piece. A sense of inadequacy drowned her in a tsunami of self-doubt, one that would drag her into the sea where all manner of deep creatures would tear her from limb to limb.

Twenty unanswered calls from her father. She scrolled through them, knowing she could no longer delay it. Her friends always pinned him as the perfect profile piece, but Kylie was concerned. He was an eccentric with far too many mystical superstitions whereas Kylie was consistently facing the harsh realities of urban life. The strange stories her father told were not ones of adventure, but instead ritualistic cults connected to a trail of missing bodies. The disappearance of her mother had always been a touchy topic, one that Kylie and her father had an unspoken agreement not to talk about. The city was an escape from her father's domain, away from the coast of luring waves.

She had 12 hours and it was incredibly unlikely she would stumble upon another candidate for the interview. Hesitating, she slowly gathered her things. Pen. Notepad. Voice recorder. Minutes later she was driving out of the city, the steel and machinery replaced by grassland and sheep. The horizon was an eternal blue.

##

'I've been looking forward to this, sweetie. I made lunch.' He said, holding out a plate with a neatly made sandwich sitting on it.

The voice made Kylie shudder, and the crooked smile on her father's face seemed like it hadn't changed for years. His presence took up the entire doorframe, his skeletal figure dawdling over Kylie. The sandwich smelled of tuna. The house stood in sight of the ocean.

'I'm not hungry,' she said as she pushed him aside and moved past him, heading towards the lounge where she immediately began setting herself up. She gave the place a couple glances, and a shiver took hold of her shoulders as she realised not a thing had been moved out of place since she lived here. The checkered couches, the way the closed curtains would let in just one sliver of sunlight to expose a starscape of dust. That dreaded nautical scent, of ocean bile and rotting fish. One click and the recorder turned on. 'Let's just get this done. '

'I don't see why you didn't get back to me sooner. Do I introduce myself?'

'No.' she replies. 'How does life differ in Australia as compared to your home?'

'By a huge amount. In the Fatherland we were restricted in every liberty we wished we had. If it was money, our parents taxed us. Liquor, they would set it alight. Electricity was a taboo in our town. We lived upon the coast, and yet it was condemnation for anyone who touched the water. Here, one can hope for redemption. Are you getting my calls?'

Kylie gave her father a snide glance. There was a shake in her hands as she struggled to hold her pen against the paper. Her voice became blunter.

'No. Your upbringing led you into a cult. Tell me about that.'

Her father grew rigid, and his voice became wobbly.

'Well... We formed a belief system based on our ancestor's religion. For us it was the only way we could liberate ourselves, and become one with the ocean.'

Kylie continued to act dry, trying not to pay too much attention.

'Sounds very Lovecraft. What prompted the move to Australia?'

His mouth gaped open in instant response, and it took him a moment to properly formulate a response.

'Excuse me?'

'I need the question answered.'

Her father seemed genuinely confused as he spoke to Kylie like she had forgotten his name.

'Because of what happened to your mother, Kylie.'

The confusion hits Kylie and breaks her impenetrable expression. For a moment her face drops in sadness, then one of reluctant defeat.

'I wasn't thinking about that... Fine, whatever, we'll skip it.'

'What will it take to redeem myself in your eyes?'

'You think it's so easy?' Kylie rose out of her chair, towering above her father as her voice rose in fury. 'Think you can just keep up your demeanour and hope things will be the same? You scared me, dad. You just stood there and watched me!'

Her father was weak, shuddering and trying to sink into the couch.

'I was terrified too, my dear.'

'Are you kidding? I was drowning!'

He pulled himself out of his chair and faced the closed windows. His voice was struggling, losing a battle but fighting to be heard.

'I was frozen. All I could think about was your mother, those awful people, those waves I pledged my life to!'

'Why don't you just tell me what you did? You think it's worse than the nightmares I've had about you? Christ, I'm terrified about having my own kids because I'm worried they'll have your eyes. And you're scared about what; that me knowing the truth will hurt your reputation? That you won't be able to sleep? Deal with it!'

Kylie stood still and watched her father. Her eyes were wide and welling up with tears. He opened up the window, letting a rush of ocean air into the house.

'I tied her down onto a slate of rock. Each one of us cut her. We took her out on this old fishing boat and let her sink. That was the ritual. It had to be a loved one for it to work.'

Kylie had her hands clasped around her mouth. There was no falter in his voice, and the silence that ensued was broken by another click. The recorder turned off. She did not pick up her things. She headed outside to her car. Her father stayed inside the house, whose windows were closed once more. Kylie looked out towards the ocean.

For the first time, she found the smell refreshing.

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