A Circle of Clowns by Mike Lee
A Modern Tale of Terror (SEE NEW PART OF CHAPTER 2 AT BOTTOM OF PAGE)
(DON'T TRY TO READ THIS ONE WHEN YOU ARE ALL ALONE IN THE DARK)
Chapter 1The Sea Nymph (REVISED, SORRY FINALLY GOT ARROUND TO READING THIS CAREFULLY AND FOUND A FEW ERRORS)
(A Modern Terror Story)
Chapter 1The Sea Nymph
It was
the evening before the first day of tourist season on the coast. By twelve p.m.
the fog was thick all along the coast of Humbard Bay and so the normally busy
Captain and crew were convinced that they would have the next day off. They were busy drinking whiskey shots and
boilermakers on the patio of the Salty Dog Bar on Decker Street until the wee
hours of the next morning.
The Sea Nymph, an old but sea worthy vessel,
sat tied to the North East boat dock, next to Humbard bay. At that time, the whole town was quiet. Only the spirits walked at that time of
morning along the causeway. The local TV
weathermen had all called for it to be calm, overcast and for am even thicker
fog cover later that morning, so it was a bit of a surprise when at three a.m.
the wind picked up and began to blow the fog off. By this time, the good Captain and most of
the crew were drunk and sound asleep in their bunks and had no idea, they would
have to work, until old Captain Flynn
got the call from the Harbor Master that the forecast had been revised and that
fair weather was expected for later than morning. As Captain Peter
Flynn, who cussed his bad luck, arrived on the dock, at seven a.m. surfers and sunbathers
were already out in full force all along the beach. Sea gulls circled looking for handouts
usually minnows and dead fish.
Earlier
that morning, Captain Flynn had his morning coffee with the First Mate at the
dockside Café and gulped down several cups of coffee and several aspirins on
his way to the boat. Not one to miss
work, his head was swirling around him, crashing over him like waves. over his
normally even temperament.
"Dammed
weathermen, what the hell do they know about such things. I seen the signs and I should have heeded
them," he said to the First Mate, who joined him at the boat.
Most
of his crew was already aboard preparing for the day's tour of the harbor and
for the tourist who would fish off both
sides of the long fishing craft.
Some would as usual, complain that the tour company had advertised this day trip in the newspaper
as a "deep sea fishing tour" and that it was in fact bay fishing
instead. The only one missing on the
boat was the First Engineer, who normally would have been greasing, starting
and warming up the engines.
"Where
is Scully?" the Captain said trying his best to maintain his patience.
"In
his bunk, I presume," said the First Mate.
"Ok,
get him on the phone and get his lazy butt out of his bunk.” said Captain Flynn
"Aye,
Aye Captain."
"He's
not there," said the First Mate, "They said they haven't seen him
since yesterday."
"Great,
well we're sure not going to wait on him.
We've got a schedule and I haven't missed casting off on schedule in five
years and I sure ain't missing it now."
"Cast
off the bow line, Mr. Sowders."
"Aye,
Aye Captain."
"And
the aft."
"Aye,
Aye, Casting off, Sir."
"Slow
to Port."
Several
hours later, many of the tourists having caught a large catch of rather puny
sea trout were complaining about how small the fish were that they had
caught. Just about then, as the Sea
Nymph, the First Mate at the wheel, rounded the north jetty, struck a hidden
sand bar, splitting the hull nearly in two, and the vessel began to list to one
side. The Nymph was less than five
miles from its mooring, heading for the dock, when the opening in the hull
began flooding the engine compartment and both engines stalled. Unfortunately, the crewmember who normally
handled these types of emergencies had never gotten on board that morning. In fact, he had suffered a massive heart
attack on his way home the night before after a long night of partying and
drinking.
Therefore,
as was standard procedure, Captain Flynn put in an immediate distress call when
the ship suddenly began to founder and list to one side. Just then, several of the buckets containing
fish bait slid off the main deck into the water.
"Oh,
my God! We are sinking," said one of the tourist
"I
am afraid God has nothing to do with this," said his friend in a
wheelchair.
It was
about then, that both the crew and passengers spotted several rather large
shark fins circling in the water around the stricken vessel. These were large sharks slowly circling the
distressed ship. These were not just
any old large sharks, either. These were
Great White Sharks. Even the landlubber
tourists and the newest crewmembers recognized this fact from the length and breadth
of those grey circling harbingers of death.
Each imagined themselves inside those mouths of endless razor sharp
teeth as the sharks silently circled, churned up the water behind them. As the ship went slowly down, death kept
circling, circling and circling.
"Sharks,
Captain."
"I
know, I see them bastards," said Captain firing his pistol at several of
the circling large fins, hitting one of them, the water turning red, as the
Nymph got lower and lower in the water. The other sharks quickly attacked the wounded
shark and tore it to pieces.
At
first, the tourists did not comprehend that the ship was actually sinking, but
as they started to notice the boat getting lower and lower in the water, they
began to panic.
"Sea
Nymph to Coast Guard, Sea Nymph to Coast Guard, Mayday! Mayday! This is not a drill, We urgently need
assistance. Ship is in peril. One hundred souls on board. Sharks in the
water. South by Southwest of Humbard bay. Urgent assistance is needed.
Chapter 2 the Circus
All that long
hot summer, the cicadas, fireflies, and wharf rats relentlessly swarmed through
the tall marsh grass and cornrows.
As chickweed
and children ran wild everywhere, soft voices whispered secrets and magic,
hidden and dark, as the children with dirty faces caught fireflies in glass
bottles, burned the flies with gasoline and then played fiercely in the tall
under brush and marsh grass.
Ghosts,
shadow creatures, and dark spirits roamed the sleepy town at night.
Old stories and rumors persisted as rocking
chairs everywhere on the old plantation house porches, rocked endlessly, even
when empty.
One lonely night, Elmer
Smith, the local undertaker, became severely depressed and hung himself in his
barn, putting pallor on the otherwise cheerful summer.
The local police arrived on the scene at
Elmer's home behind the Parson's funeral home, just fifteen minutes too late to
save poor Elmer, who had already planned his funeral far in advance.
Thus, he directed and attended at his own
funeral dressed in his finest pressed black funeral attire.
SOON TO BE AVAILABLE ON SMASHWORDS.COM AND AMAZON KINDLE
Copyright © 2013 by Mike Lee
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