The musty scent of stagnant water and rotting fish filled the humid night air as the small dinghy slowly made its way upriver. Ten years at sea for one day ashore was a steep price to pay, but a man in love will do anything for his lady and that is exactly what David Jones had done. The goddess Calypso herself had bestowed upon him the job of ferrying the souls of those who died at sea to the other side by making him the captain of the Flying Dutchman. Ten long, agonizing years he sailed between the world of the living and the dead, but now he returned to the living once more for his one day. And it was her he planned to share it with.
As he sat pondering all of this, a shack sitting over the river head came into view. His heart raced wildly and beads of sweat trickled down his entire body. He imagined that if he closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he could smell her scent above the river's stench. The though of running his coarse and calloused hands over her silky smooth skin thrilled him. As he came up to the small dock constructed at the shack's entrance, he didn't even bother to tether the little boat, but merely leapt up. He could always swim out tomorrow and retrieve it.
He cleared his throat and, after wiping his sweat-drenched hands on his pantaloons, rapped on the door. Silence answered. He tried again and this time the door slowly swung open. He peeked in cautiously and saw dozens of candles burning, casting a cheerful yet eerie glow about the room. Upon entering the room, he noticed all sorts of odd nick-knacks strewn about the room. Yet everything in the room and in his mind vanished as a feminine giggle resounded from an upstairs room. He smiled and quickly began to ascend the stairs. His heart raced faster and his mind spun amid the exhilaration of finally being with Calypso. He ached for her, body and soul. To feel her in his arms; to become one with her. He paused momentarily to steady himself. As he exhaled a deep breath, another giggle called from the other side of the closed door at the top of the stairs. She's waiting for me. She saw me enter and she's waiting, he thought, imagining she was lying in bed, eager to taste his kiss once more.
His smile faded and the happy thoughts vanished as he pushed open the door. She was in bed alright, but she wasn't alone. A young man, quite possibly no more than 16, was fondling her breasts with his tongue, but upon seeing David, he lost his balance and fell to the floor with a distinct thud. "Calypso…" began David, tears pooling in his sea-blue eyes. "Hello David," she said coolly in her thick Caribbean accent as she sat up.
"Hello? That's all you have to say?"
"What did you expect me to say?"
Meanwhile, the young man had managed to pull his pants on. David turned toward him angrily, his hand on the hilt his sword. "David, your quarrel is not with him," Calypso intervened as she rose up from the bed, not caring that she was completely naked. "The compass is on the table downstairs boy." The young man nodded and hurried out of the room and down the stairs. "One day," he heard David protesting angrily, "One day ashore and I come back to find you with that , that boy. He's practically a suckling!"
He quickly put on his shirt, not caring to hear the remainder of the argument, then picked up the compass and fastened it securely to his belt. The compass…it was what got him into the whole mess in the first place. "That compass," she said, as he had examined it closely, "points to the thing you want most in the entire world." No sooner had the words left her mouth than the needle stopped spinning , pointing directly at her. She had then led him upstairs…
Now he shook his head. He didn't particularly want to remember what happened next. Suddenly, a large clap of thunder shook the shack and lightning split the sky and rain fell in torrents. Great. Just my luck, he thought. He gazed quickly around the room, searching for a hat or a cloak he could wear, but all he found was the red cloth his compass had been sitting on. Better than nothing, he thought as he tied it around his forehead.
He paused to look in a mirror hanging by the door and was slightly horrified at the person staring back at him. It wasn't the same innocent, naive boy who had first entered. He was long gone now. In his place stood a young man, tainted by childish lust and the vexations of a heathen goddess. He released a deep, sorrowful sigh and headed out into the storm, unaware that he had come face to face with the greatest evil he would ever know.