After working on Haunting Question, I rolled right into writing this second picture prompt. Again, I’d forgotten about the image and its corresponding rough draft. As a result, I skimmed through the original idea, and I kept a portion of it. While it was an interesting idea, it was missing something else. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I needed another character to interact with. In fact, I didn’t realize I had made this choice until after I started writing this mystery character’s first line of dialogue. Despite the abruptness of this new voice, the drafting process flew by.
There are stories the sea doesn’t give up easily. They are tales told in half-whispers, wrapped in fog and drawn down by disbelief. There are coastlines where the locals speak of a ship that doesn’t dock, it doesn’t drop anchor, and it rarely appears the same way twice. It’s called the Drifter’s Mercy, and it is a vessel bound not by wind or tide, but by something more powerful. Some of those who see it claim it ferries the dead. Others declare this vessel is nothing more than a myth. But those who’ve glimpsed its lantern-lit silhouette rarely speak of it in more than hushed, uncertain tones.
In this story, we follow Lena, a young captain seeking fame and fortune, and Zachary, her reluctant and more seasoned companion. She’s drawn by obsession, curiosity, and perhaps something more, while he hopes to temper those ambitions. However, she’s committed to chasing a phantom that many fear to name. What they find off the coast is not a storm, nor a monster, but a question hanging in the salt-laced air. What price is worth paying to claim your prize?
This tale isn’t about treasure maps or swashbuckling. It’s about the moment you realize the thing you’re chasing has been chasing you all along.
Lena stood tall behind her ship’s wheel, staring at the endless depths of the ocean, lit only by the stars and the pale moon. As the wind whipped past her hair, she drew in a deep lungful of the salty air as she turned toward her companion. “Have you caught sight of the Drifter’s Mercy?”
Zachary, rubbing his face, emerged from below deck and extended his arms, like a gull attempting to claim the breeze to reclaim its position in the sky. “Why are we hunting a supposedly cursed ship? Isn’t that a little crazy?”
“We’d be famous,” Lena said, examining the radar beside the wheel. “Don’t forget, no one remembers when this thing first appeared. The only common thread in its tales is that it drifts silently along the coast. They also mention a dense fog that clings to its hull, provided it never touches the shore.”
“This all points to the fact that we shouldn’t be hunting it down.” Zachary stepped beside her and poked her side with a finger. “The rumors also talk about how those who interfere with it go missing.”
Lena chuckled, though unease tinged her mirth as she rolled her eyes. “You realize those ‘witnesses’ are completely unreliable. They also claim that this boat, with its same crew, has been traversing the coast for several hundred years.”
“I’m going to regret telling you this.” With a groan, Zachary tugged on Lena’s shoulder as he pointed at something looming behind them. “But I think we found your white whale.”
Lena’s gaze swiftly shifted to the vessel, moving smoothly across the water as if dictating the tide, instead of being compelled by it. Several lanterns dangled from its railings, their glow flickering and yet somehow never fading away. She released the wheel and turned toward the mysterious ship. Despite the isolation, Lena rubbed her ear and scanned the horizon, as if trying to locate the source of whispers.
She whirled back to the wheel, spinning it, sending her smaller vessel off to her right. As it raced away from the larger vessel’s wake, she glanced over her shoulder and studied the ethereal passage of the Drifter’s Mercy. She couldn’t explain the boat’s hold on her thoughts, yet it held her captive. Once they were safely perched outside of the ship’s path, she wrapped an arm around her companion’s shoulders. “I’ve spent years collecting eyewitness accounts of this vessel. Yet, despite the depth of their tales, the ship’s beauty was never included in their description.”
Zachary lifted a trembling finger toward the ghostly craft. “Are you sure about this? Don’t forget all the stories you’ve been chasing revolve around this tub ferrying the dead.”
“You believe those tales?”
“You do!” Zachary spun her toward him and snapped a finger in front of her eyes. “We’re both aware of the tales regarding souls who hadn’t made peace with their deaths and get drawn to it as it glides near the coast. Then, once it’s added to its ghostly ranks, the ship departs, heading back into the darkness until the sea itself forgets about its transgression.”
“I’m not afraid of it,” Lena said, pulling a camera out of its case. “It’s a lovely craft.”
Zachary’s head swayed as his gaze followed the ship slicing through the water. He squeezed Lena’s shoulder. “So’s a starving bear, provided you’re not standing between it and its next meal.”
“That’s a little over the top,” Lena said, shrugging out of her companion’s grasp. She inched forward and took several pictures of the ethereal vessel. When she finished, she lowered the camera and looked at its display to review the captured sights. “Well, that’s odd—”
“What did you expect?! Of course it’s not photogenic!” Zachary thrust a finger toward the retreating craft as the fog swirled around their boat. With a curse, he rushed to the wheel and threw the engine into reverse.
As they inched away from the ship, the lanterns lining the railings intensified, glowing with a brilliant golden hue. Beneath their boots, the undulating fog flailed as they escaped its grasp. Lena stepped toward the ship, head tilted slightly. Her shoulders slackened as the lantern’s light shimmered off her eyes. Zachary said something, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she pressed one hand to the hull and clutched her camera tightly.
“I’m not sure why we’re here,” she said, her head shifting. “Can you really offer peace?”
“Lena!” Zachary’s gaze fluttered amongst her, the Drifter’s Mercy, and the open sea behind them. “Snap out of it and help get us out of the fog!”
She began blinking as she turned back to her companion. “Zachary… what’s… happening?”
Lena’s boat whined as it stopped moving away from the ghost ship. A second later, a groan escaped the engine, as if chains were stretching to the breaking point. With a curse, Zachary released the wheel and raced over to Lena, grabbing her by the shoulders. He shook her, and after several moments, Lena slapped Zachary.
“Nice of you to wake up.” Zachary jerked his thumb at the wheel. “Though I’d rather escape the fog first.”
With a shaky nod, Lena rushed to the controls. Within moments, the groan vanished into the wind as their boat drifted away from the ship. The moment their ship breached the undulating fog, sunlight bore down on them. Instantly, they transitioned from midnight to midday.
“That’s impossible,” Zachary said, rubbing his cheek.
“It corroborates some of the more pernicious rumors,” Lena said as she shook her head. “According to a handful… a few of the lost individuals have returned, only to realize they’ve lost years to their encounter with the Mercy.”
“They spoke to you, didn’t they?”
Lena nodded as she grabbed the radio.
“What were they saying to you?”
“They wanted me to join them.” She turned to Zachary and brushed the cheek she’d struck. Her eyes closed slowly as she turned away. “If you hadn’t insisted on coming with me… I’d have been another lost soul.”