Authors' Note: This is the prologue. It could also be considered a story
by itself (which it was originally) but then Maureen Epps a.k.a. Rain
Ocampo and I (HappyBunny1) decided to make it into two stories. All the
chapters written about the future (Maureen and her life after the Graza and
how things are going for her) are written by Maureen Epps a.k.a. Rain
Ocampo. All the chapters written about the past (Jack and Death) are
written by me (except for the prologue which is by me as well).
Summary: [Ghost Ship] The future, the past. In the future, Maureen Epps is dealing with her life after the incident on the Antonia Graza. In the past, back on the Graza, Jack needs Death's help to get rid of Maureen after he kills Dodge. But does Jack succeed? I think not...
Disclaimer: We do not claim Ghost Ship or any related matter. :-)
*~*~*
Alone in the Dark
It was dark. And I don't mean nighttime dark. I mean in-your-face-and-you- can't-even-see-your-own-feet dark. The kind of dark where you know something will lunge out at you. The kind of dark where looking over your shoulder will do you no good because you can barely even see your own shoulder.
Do you understand the picture I'm painting for you?
Because this is what Maureen Epps was seeing. She was walking blindly through complete darkness, but it all seemed familiar to her. She had been here before. She knew it.
She could hear her feet slushing through water and she could smell the rancid stench of death everywhere. She saw nothing, but she knew everything. She was on the Antonia Graza. The ship that was practically possessed by the vengeful spirits of poor innocents and wretched sinners alike.
As this realization hit her, she tripped on something. She didn't fall. She just flew forward a little. She bent down and let her hands search the three inch deep water for whatever it was that almost made her land right on her face. Her right hand finally came upon something. She picked it up and suddenly, without a second thought, she knew what it was: a flashlight.
Her fingers searched desperately for the switch to turn it on. She had to find it, and it better work, or else she would go mad from fear. Yes, that's right, Maureen Epps was actually scared. She was truly afraid. Not because of the darkness that seemed to claw at her from all sides, but she felt, she knew, she wasn't alone. She could feel someone watching every move she was making, even though she couldn't even see her own movements herself.
She quickly flipped the switch and, amazingly, the flashlight turned on. This surprised her a bit but she decided to just take advantage of this stroke of luck.
She shined the flashlight around and she saw her guess was correct. She was walking down one of the corridors of the lower decks of the Antonia Graza. And that wasn't a good feeling at all. It was rusty and decaying, just like it had been when she and her crew members came aboard.
She shined the light farther down the corridor and saw that her worst fear was confirmed. She wasn't alone. Her fear slowly faded away when she saw who it was, though.
"Katie?" Maureen yelled to the small figure that stood at the end of the hallway. "Katie!"
Katie smiled and giggled and then ran off to the right, down another corridor that intersected the one that Maureen was on.
But Maureen immediately knew something was wrong. Katie wouldn't just do something like that when Maureen had called her. Katie would warn her, or tell her what's going on, or at least say SOMETHING. She wouldn't just run away.
But Maureen, always being the curious one, followed. She ran down to the end of the corridor and glanced to the left. She then went to the right and continued to run faster at seeing that Katie was now running up a flight of strairs.
As she continued to run, everything seemed to get lighter. It wasn't much, just enough for it to be noticeable. Maureen turned the flashlight off and shoved it in her overly-large pocket.
She watched as Katie dashed through a door at the top of the stairs. It slammed shut with a thud but then it slowly opened an inch or two.
At the bottom of the stairs, Maureen paused. There was something ominous about this all. She knew that there might be something really bad on the other side of that door, or, for all she knew, there could be a pretty little garden of roses. She tended to doubt the latter, though.
She slowly walked up the metal staircase, her eyes never leaving the door. Her hand was slightly shaking as she grasped the railing and her boots clinked as they hit each stair.
The clinking of her boots and even her breathing echoed all around her, and she could even hear the faint, rapid beating of her heart. It was a very eerie feeling. It seemed like something out of a Hollywood horror movie.
As she got to the top of the stairs she stood in front of the door for a moment. She wouldn't dare look through the small opening of the door. Her terror was at a peak at this point, but she knew she had to suck it up and open the door.
And as soon as she did she regretted it completely.
The door creaked as it opened and Maureen looked on in horror at the massacre that lay beyond. She completely forgot about Katie for the moment as she looked at the dead bodies of men and women that were scattered all over the ballroom floor, tables and chairs. It was obvious that some had been shot while others were just lying on the ground, pools of crimson had formed around their bodies. Many were draped over bowls of soup, their bodies stiff and unmoving. Everything was frighteningly silent.
But as Maureen's immediate panic wore off and she got used to horrid smell of the atmosphere around her, she realized that she shouldn't be in the ballroom. She never remembered walking up a set of stairs to get directly to the ballroom, and besides, it was supposed to have double doors. Maureen turned around just to prove to herself her own theory, but all she saw was shiny new double doors (that were closed). That's something else she noticed. She was now on the ship the way it was back in 1962. It was no longer rusty and dull, but it was now sparkling new.
Maureen spun back around, completely confused, horrified and bewildered by these strange goings-on. Fear set in her bones and a chill ran down her spine. She got that feeling again, like she was being watched. She felt completely defenseless as she looked all over the ballroom. Oh my God did she hate that feeling. When she felt defenseless she felt weak, and weakness was something she did not want attributed to her character, especially since she once worked with men.
Along with her fear then came a sense of danger. She felt that something not really good was about to happen and she knew she had to leave immediately. She was a woman. She had this kind of intuition.
She turned around and grabbed the handles to the double doors. She tried pulling. She tried pushing. Nothing happened. They wouldn't budge. She turned back around to face all the dead bodies, the dead bodies that lay calmly and quietly in their final resting place.
Maureen had no idea what to do now. The only way out was through those doors but they were jammed. Since the doors were glass she figured that she could just break them and make a mad dash out of there.
Without warning, a man stepped out from behind a large pillar at the end of the room. A deep masculine voice then said, "I suggest you not do that, Maureen." Perhaps she was thinking out loud, or maybe she was thinking TOO loudly, or it just might've been he could simply read minds, but he knew what she had planned on doing.
Maureen stared. She just stared. The man wore a nice black suit and, unlike the corpses around him, not one drop of blood stained his pricey, new clothing. His brown hair was nicely slicked back, not a single strand was out of place. Maureen could not believe what she was seeing. This was the Soul Collector, the Graza's Angel of Death: Jack Ferriman.
Maureen Epps was a person who generally didn't let her fear show, but now she was so scared that Jack could practically smell her terror. It's one of the most basic instincts for humans and Mr. I-Collect-Souls-for-a-Living was always good at bringing that feeling out in people.
The tense silence between them was unnerving. Jack had his hands in his pockets and he seemed perfectly comfortable with the gore-fest around him. His icy, stone-cold blue eyes captivated Maureen and prevented her from looking away. Behind his eyes, though, there was a darker side. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing and Maureen knew it.
But then Maureen remembered Katie. "Where is Katie?" Her voice slightly echoed and Jack acted like he never even heard her say anything. "Where is she, Jack!?!"
"You really don't think that was Katie, do you?" He raised an eyebrow as he spoke. Maureen thought, by the tone of it, he was questioning her intelligence. Her silence gave him all he needed to know.
Maureen should have known. Well, actually, she did but she didn't want to believe that she was tricked by the one person who blinded her completely by his "charm".
Maureen stopped her pondering when she saw Jack walking over the dance floor of the ballroom towards her. His hands were still in his pockets and his eyes never left hers. He calmly walked over each body he came to, missing the puddles of blood by mere centimeters.
He walked up the several stairs to get to Maureen and when he got to the top he stopped. They were no more than six feet apart by now and Maureen couldn't back up anymore because she was already up against the doors behind her. She wanted to defend herself, she wanted to get the hell out of there, but that couldn't be done.
He slowly moved forwards, watching the fear in her eyes grow stronger and stronger. He knew that she wanted to cry, that she wanted to scream but her pride and dignity got in the way.
They were about two feet apart when Jack suddenly stopped. Maureen watched in dread as he pulled his right hand out of his pocket and slowly held it up for Maureen to see. There, in the center of his palm, was a scar, the mark of the trident. The mark that the Devil himself had given Jack so he could steal the souls from the world. Maureen assumed he had it but she never saw it on him for herself.
Maureen was too busy examining Jack's palm to see the wicked smile that played upon his lips. He always said that humans were oblivious to the small details that matter so much. And by Maureen not seeing Jack's look of amusement, she didn't expect what was to come.
The scar on his palm began to glow a light, cloudy, orange-yellow. Before Maureen could realize what was happening, his right hand flew out to grab her own. Maureen looked into his eyes but all she saw was the darkness that hugged his entire soul. She tried to pull away but her resistence was doing nothing except making his grip even tighter.
Maureen yelped in pain when she felt her palm burning. The pain was more excruciating than anything she had ever felt in her life. Perhaps this was because he was stealing who she really was, he was taking her soul without the intent of ever giving it back.
But she was still alive and kicking, she wasn't even dying. How could he even do this?
Maybe because it was all a dream.
An ear-piercing scream filled the summer night air as Maureen's eyes shot open. She quickly sat up in bed, her breathing heavy and labored. Her eyes darted all over the dark room, searching for the antagonist that haunted her dreamworld, but she never found him because he wasn't there. He was never there when she searched for him. She had this nightmare many times and each time she woke up at the same point: when her soul was stolen from her. And each time she had no control over any of it. It was like she was watching a movie, seeing herself in this hellish nightmare but not actually being there.
Now that Maureen was up, every little creak in the floorboards, every little bump in the night, every little shadow plastered against the wall made her look over her shoulder in suspicion or hug the sheet even closer to her already sweating body. She was terrified of everything around her, unsure if suddenly Jack Ferriman would appear in the shadows and drag her off to the deepest pit of Hell.
Maureen suddenly thought about the people in the world around her. They didn't know about people like Jack Ferriman. She felt this immense pity for them because she knew some other innocent person might be next, but they had no idea of the torture that awaited them if their soul was taken by Jack.
Her thoughts then retrogressed back to her own problems. She felt she wasn't safe, not even in her dreams. But that had to be the most frightening thing in the world: she couldn't even stop her dreams from being invaded by the dark force that we call Jack Ferriman.
And as she huddled closely to the backboard of her bed, she realized how alone she was. Alone with her thoughts, alone with her nightmares, alone with her fears, alone, completely alone, in the dark.
*~*~*
Authors' Note: Do you like? Do you not like? Do you have to criticize? Than please review!
Summary: [Ghost Ship] The future, the past. In the future, Maureen Epps is dealing with her life after the incident on the Antonia Graza. In the past, back on the Graza, Jack needs Death's help to get rid of Maureen after he kills Dodge. But does Jack succeed? I think not...
Disclaimer: We do not claim Ghost Ship or any related matter. :-)
*~*~*
Alone in the Dark
It was dark. And I don't mean nighttime dark. I mean in-your-face-and-you- can't-even-see-your-own-feet dark. The kind of dark where you know something will lunge out at you. The kind of dark where looking over your shoulder will do you no good because you can barely even see your own shoulder.
Do you understand the picture I'm painting for you?
Because this is what Maureen Epps was seeing. She was walking blindly through complete darkness, but it all seemed familiar to her. She had been here before. She knew it.
She could hear her feet slushing through water and she could smell the rancid stench of death everywhere. She saw nothing, but she knew everything. She was on the Antonia Graza. The ship that was practically possessed by the vengeful spirits of poor innocents and wretched sinners alike.
As this realization hit her, she tripped on something. She didn't fall. She just flew forward a little. She bent down and let her hands search the three inch deep water for whatever it was that almost made her land right on her face. Her right hand finally came upon something. She picked it up and suddenly, without a second thought, she knew what it was: a flashlight.
Her fingers searched desperately for the switch to turn it on. She had to find it, and it better work, or else she would go mad from fear. Yes, that's right, Maureen Epps was actually scared. She was truly afraid. Not because of the darkness that seemed to claw at her from all sides, but she felt, she knew, she wasn't alone. She could feel someone watching every move she was making, even though she couldn't even see her own movements herself.
She quickly flipped the switch and, amazingly, the flashlight turned on. This surprised her a bit but she decided to just take advantage of this stroke of luck.
She shined the flashlight around and she saw her guess was correct. She was walking down one of the corridors of the lower decks of the Antonia Graza. And that wasn't a good feeling at all. It was rusty and decaying, just like it had been when she and her crew members came aboard.
She shined the light farther down the corridor and saw that her worst fear was confirmed. She wasn't alone. Her fear slowly faded away when she saw who it was, though.
"Katie?" Maureen yelled to the small figure that stood at the end of the hallway. "Katie!"
Katie smiled and giggled and then ran off to the right, down another corridor that intersected the one that Maureen was on.
But Maureen immediately knew something was wrong. Katie wouldn't just do something like that when Maureen had called her. Katie would warn her, or tell her what's going on, or at least say SOMETHING. She wouldn't just run away.
But Maureen, always being the curious one, followed. She ran down to the end of the corridor and glanced to the left. She then went to the right and continued to run faster at seeing that Katie was now running up a flight of strairs.
As she continued to run, everything seemed to get lighter. It wasn't much, just enough for it to be noticeable. Maureen turned the flashlight off and shoved it in her overly-large pocket.
She watched as Katie dashed through a door at the top of the stairs. It slammed shut with a thud but then it slowly opened an inch or two.
At the bottom of the stairs, Maureen paused. There was something ominous about this all. She knew that there might be something really bad on the other side of that door, or, for all she knew, there could be a pretty little garden of roses. She tended to doubt the latter, though.
She slowly walked up the metal staircase, her eyes never leaving the door. Her hand was slightly shaking as she grasped the railing and her boots clinked as they hit each stair.
The clinking of her boots and even her breathing echoed all around her, and she could even hear the faint, rapid beating of her heart. It was a very eerie feeling. It seemed like something out of a Hollywood horror movie.
As she got to the top of the stairs she stood in front of the door for a moment. She wouldn't dare look through the small opening of the door. Her terror was at a peak at this point, but she knew she had to suck it up and open the door.
And as soon as she did she regretted it completely.
The door creaked as it opened and Maureen looked on in horror at the massacre that lay beyond. She completely forgot about Katie for the moment as she looked at the dead bodies of men and women that were scattered all over the ballroom floor, tables and chairs. It was obvious that some had been shot while others were just lying on the ground, pools of crimson had formed around their bodies. Many were draped over bowls of soup, their bodies stiff and unmoving. Everything was frighteningly silent.
But as Maureen's immediate panic wore off and she got used to horrid smell of the atmosphere around her, she realized that she shouldn't be in the ballroom. She never remembered walking up a set of stairs to get directly to the ballroom, and besides, it was supposed to have double doors. Maureen turned around just to prove to herself her own theory, but all she saw was shiny new double doors (that were closed). That's something else she noticed. She was now on the ship the way it was back in 1962. It was no longer rusty and dull, but it was now sparkling new.
Maureen spun back around, completely confused, horrified and bewildered by these strange goings-on. Fear set in her bones and a chill ran down her spine. She got that feeling again, like she was being watched. She felt completely defenseless as she looked all over the ballroom. Oh my God did she hate that feeling. When she felt defenseless she felt weak, and weakness was something she did not want attributed to her character, especially since she once worked with men.
Along with her fear then came a sense of danger. She felt that something not really good was about to happen and she knew she had to leave immediately. She was a woman. She had this kind of intuition.
She turned around and grabbed the handles to the double doors. She tried pulling. She tried pushing. Nothing happened. They wouldn't budge. She turned back around to face all the dead bodies, the dead bodies that lay calmly and quietly in their final resting place.
Maureen had no idea what to do now. The only way out was through those doors but they were jammed. Since the doors were glass she figured that she could just break them and make a mad dash out of there.
Without warning, a man stepped out from behind a large pillar at the end of the room. A deep masculine voice then said, "I suggest you not do that, Maureen." Perhaps she was thinking out loud, or maybe she was thinking TOO loudly, or it just might've been he could simply read minds, but he knew what she had planned on doing.
Maureen stared. She just stared. The man wore a nice black suit and, unlike the corpses around him, not one drop of blood stained his pricey, new clothing. His brown hair was nicely slicked back, not a single strand was out of place. Maureen could not believe what she was seeing. This was the Soul Collector, the Graza's Angel of Death: Jack Ferriman.
Maureen Epps was a person who generally didn't let her fear show, but now she was so scared that Jack could practically smell her terror. It's one of the most basic instincts for humans and Mr. I-Collect-Souls-for-a-Living was always good at bringing that feeling out in people.
The tense silence between them was unnerving. Jack had his hands in his pockets and he seemed perfectly comfortable with the gore-fest around him. His icy, stone-cold blue eyes captivated Maureen and prevented her from looking away. Behind his eyes, though, there was a darker side. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing and Maureen knew it.
But then Maureen remembered Katie. "Where is Katie?" Her voice slightly echoed and Jack acted like he never even heard her say anything. "Where is she, Jack!?!"
"You really don't think that was Katie, do you?" He raised an eyebrow as he spoke. Maureen thought, by the tone of it, he was questioning her intelligence. Her silence gave him all he needed to know.
Maureen should have known. Well, actually, she did but she didn't want to believe that she was tricked by the one person who blinded her completely by his "charm".
Maureen stopped her pondering when she saw Jack walking over the dance floor of the ballroom towards her. His hands were still in his pockets and his eyes never left hers. He calmly walked over each body he came to, missing the puddles of blood by mere centimeters.
He walked up the several stairs to get to Maureen and when he got to the top he stopped. They were no more than six feet apart by now and Maureen couldn't back up anymore because she was already up against the doors behind her. She wanted to defend herself, she wanted to get the hell out of there, but that couldn't be done.
He slowly moved forwards, watching the fear in her eyes grow stronger and stronger. He knew that she wanted to cry, that she wanted to scream but her pride and dignity got in the way.
They were about two feet apart when Jack suddenly stopped. Maureen watched in dread as he pulled his right hand out of his pocket and slowly held it up for Maureen to see. There, in the center of his palm, was a scar, the mark of the trident. The mark that the Devil himself had given Jack so he could steal the souls from the world. Maureen assumed he had it but she never saw it on him for herself.
Maureen was too busy examining Jack's palm to see the wicked smile that played upon his lips. He always said that humans were oblivious to the small details that matter so much. And by Maureen not seeing Jack's look of amusement, she didn't expect what was to come.
The scar on his palm began to glow a light, cloudy, orange-yellow. Before Maureen could realize what was happening, his right hand flew out to grab her own. Maureen looked into his eyes but all she saw was the darkness that hugged his entire soul. She tried to pull away but her resistence was doing nothing except making his grip even tighter.
Maureen yelped in pain when she felt her palm burning. The pain was more excruciating than anything she had ever felt in her life. Perhaps this was because he was stealing who she really was, he was taking her soul without the intent of ever giving it back.
But she was still alive and kicking, she wasn't even dying. How could he even do this?
Maybe because it was all a dream.
An ear-piercing scream filled the summer night air as Maureen's eyes shot open. She quickly sat up in bed, her breathing heavy and labored. Her eyes darted all over the dark room, searching for the antagonist that haunted her dreamworld, but she never found him because he wasn't there. He was never there when she searched for him. She had this nightmare many times and each time she woke up at the same point: when her soul was stolen from her. And each time she had no control over any of it. It was like she was watching a movie, seeing herself in this hellish nightmare but not actually being there.
Now that Maureen was up, every little creak in the floorboards, every little bump in the night, every little shadow plastered against the wall made her look over her shoulder in suspicion or hug the sheet even closer to her already sweating body. She was terrified of everything around her, unsure if suddenly Jack Ferriman would appear in the shadows and drag her off to the deepest pit of Hell.
Maureen suddenly thought about the people in the world around her. They didn't know about people like Jack Ferriman. She felt this immense pity for them because she knew some other innocent person might be next, but they had no idea of the torture that awaited them if their soul was taken by Jack.
Her thoughts then retrogressed back to her own problems. She felt she wasn't safe, not even in her dreams. But that had to be the most frightening thing in the world: she couldn't even stop her dreams from being invaded by the dark force that we call Jack Ferriman.
And as she huddled closely to the backboard of her bed, she realized how alone she was. Alone with her thoughts, alone with her nightmares, alone with her fears, alone, completely alone, in the dark.
*~*~*
Authors' Note: Do you like? Do you not like? Do you have to criticize? Than please review!