Hey people! In honor of the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, I've written this story. It's my very first published story, so please be nice! I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors! I also apologize because this isn't really relevant to the movie "Titanic." I placed this in this archive because it was about the Titanic.
If you feel I should move it somewhere else, please, let me know. I'm sort of new at this.
Anyways, without further ado, enjoy!
"Titanic, name and thing, will stand as a monument and warning to human presumption" - The Bishop of Winchester, 1912
April 15, 1912
The freezing air whips around you, piercing your skin and mind like a million swords. The pain is relentless. You hear the cries of fear from all over. People you knew, people who were strangers, even people you called your family are now wading in the icy Atlantic water.
Everyone is calling for the boats to return – everyone except you. You finally spot your family floating by one of the many pieces of debris around you. Your throat constricts when you lay your eyes on your shivering little brother. Andrew had been so young, so innocent – not that you were much older. You know that you are going to die; that there is little hope of the boats returning to rescue you. But still, you hope that they do return. Not for you, but for Andrew.
Try as you might, your limbs refuse to paddle over to your family. Your strength is failing you, it is being stolen away by the cold. Surely your lips are blue by now. Violent tremors are coursing through your body.
You try to think of a solution out of this. Always, your family has looked to you for Plan A, and if it failed, they had plans B and C to back you up. But you find that you are unable to think. All you can do is feel the intense pain from the water. You try not to think about it, but it is futile, and the more you think about it, the more it hurts. But it is all you can think about. The water's cold grip was stealing your strength, and now it was stealing your mind.
Finally, a piece of driftwood floats by you, and you eagerly latch yourself onto it. With the little strength you have left, you haul yourself onto it, allowing your body to have a rest from the bone-chilling water. You are still freezing, but the pain has subsided slightly now that you are out of the water. You mentally thank your luck for the wood, but then curse it for causing the ship to sink.
The ship…such a marvelous ship it had been. It seemed to have everything. It had friendly crew members, wonderful room conditions, and delicious food. It even had a lovely name. Titanic. It was supposed to be the "Ship of Dreams", the unsinkable ship. Nothing was supposed to be able to sink the Titanic.
But the ship had sunk. The unsinkable ship has sunk and now it lies at the bottom of the Atlantic. You had not seen the iceberg yourself; no you had been fast asleep at that time. But when the ship shook horribly, you had awoken. Silently, you crept to the cabin door to see what had happened, but you could see nothing. Not out the porthole or out the door. So, naturally you decided to crawl back into your bed and continue to sleep.
Except you found that you couldn't. Deep down, you knew that something was wrong, and your body refused to allow you to become vulnerable. And when crew members had informed your family to put on their lifebelts, you did not hesitate. You felt lucky. You spoke English as did the crew. But what of the many immigrants who knew little to no English at all? What became of them? Did someone inform them of where to go or what to do?
You highly doubt that someone did.
A loud cough takes you from your memories. Looking to your right, you see the young steerage boy who taught you and Andrew to play marbles. Your eyes meet and you share a small, sad smile. You both know of your fate.
You try not to cry, as you fear that the drops will freeze before they roll out of your eyes. So you allow your eyes to burn and your throat to squeeze. Although it hurts, that pain distracts you from your freezing body. That pain shows that you are still alive…for the time being. It is uncomfortable but you take it. One shouldn't be too greedy when facing death.
But soon, the pain from your throat subsides. You realize that even if you want to cry, you won't be able to. You have no energy to cry. Your energy has been washed away with the passing waves, and you are tired. Lying your head on wood, you find that your eyes feel unusually heavy. Your body in general feels heavy. With a start you realize what is happening.
Scared, you refuse to close your eyes. You even hesitate to blink. You make an effort to raise your head from the wood, but even that is a struggle. You decided to keep down, saving your energy.
How much time had passed? A minute? An hour? You are not sure. You feel that it doesn't matter. As more time passes, it becomes clear that no boat is going to return. You still don't know how long it has been, but to you, it seems that if they were coming back, they would have already.
That thought does not faze you. It brings no tears to your eyes, nor does it upset you in any way. You have already accepted it. Crying will do nothing.
The screams and cries for help have long since died down, and the water is deathly quiet. You quickly wish that you had rephrased that last statement. More than likely everyone is dead, or almost dead. You want to check on your family to see if they are still alive, but you cannot move. You body is too cold and stiff, and your energy is spent.
Sighing, you begin to wonder why you are trying so hard to stay alive. You know you are only going to die, as no one will come to rescue you. But just as something inside you warned you about the iceberg, something is telling you to hold on. Something is urging you to live.
But you are so tired. Although your body aches, you are quickly becoming numb. You can feel it. You are either developing hypothermia (if you didn't already have it) or you are simply starting to freeze. You figure that it may be a combination of both. Either way, you are sure that both mean certain death. Lying on a piece of driftwood in the middle of the icy Atlantic Ocean with hypothermia, if it was even that, was surely a death sentence.
The quiet air frightens you even more than the terrified screams. The yells confirmed that people were alive. The silence could mean anything. Perhaps they are still alive, but are too tired to move like you are? Sadly you know that this is a blind hope and is more than likely false.
While you still have the energy to speak, you say a quick prayer to God. Your voice is hoarse and it cracks more than once while you are speaking. After praying, you lie you head back down on the driftwood, utterly exhausted.
Without your permission, your eyes close and do not open.
After an indefinite amount of time, your eyes reopen. You realize that you must have fallen asleep. You whisper a quiet "Thank you" to God for making sure you woke up.
You close your eyes again, but you do not fall asleep. You would normally have more energy after sleeping, but you are still exhausted as ever. Perhaps you only slept for a minute or two? Or perhaps the cold was still using your energy for itself.
You figure that it is the latter.
You are beginning to grow even more tired than before. You can barely open your eyes now. Your foot accidently slips into the water. The pain is quick to return, but you can't pull you foot out. You try and try, but you can barely feel your body let alone force your limbs to do as you command.
You have lost all hope that anyone is alive. Your family is surely dead, as are the acquaintances you have grow to enjoy over the last few days. The little boy that played with you is more than likely dead.
The thought of the little boy quickly leaves your mind, and you think of Andrew. What became of him? Is your little brother – the one who you taught all you tricks to, the one that came to you first if he had a nightmare – dead?
All sorrow leaves your body and is replaced by rage. Surely the captain could have seen an iceberg large enough to sink a ship! Why hadn't he done anything? It was his fault that so many lifeless bodies were floating in the water.
Had he made his way onto a lifeboat? Was it his idea that first class passengers had priority over second and third class? So many questions fill your head, but you know they will forever remain unanswered. Perhaps in the afterlife, people will give you your answers.
Your spout of rage gives you a little more energy. It gives you an adrenaline rush, but you know that it would not last long. Using it to your advantage, you slowly lift your head to look around you. Although you may deny it, you know that you still have hope that people are alive, looking into the distance for a lifeboat that will never come.
But your hopes are quickly crushed. Looking around you, you see no signs of life at all. You want to cry once again when you see your family. Your mother, your father, and Andrew are all facing toward the sky, dead.
You let out an anguished cry, but your voice is weak, so very little sound comes out. Everyone that you know is dead, your family among them. For once, the thought of dying isn't so bad. You will be rejoined with your loved ones. What is so horrible about that?
Despite this thought, you still fight to live. Not only is your inner voice urging you to do so, but you know that your parents would be disappointed if they found out that you didn't even try.
Your adrenaline rush is fading, as you knew it would. Unfortunately, it leaves you wearier than ever before. You didn't even think that was possible.
You contemplate giving up.
But you quickly shoot down the thought. You know that you need to keep fighting. So you do. You struggle against your heavy eyelids, your head which feels weak, and your stinging foot, which you have still not pulled out of the water. You mentally curse yourself for not taking it out when you had the energy.
You are sure that your foot has frostbite by now. If you somehow survive this, you are certain that your foot would have to be amputated off. You mentally shudder, as you have no strength to do it physically.
Part of you wonders why no boat ever came back. Another part says that it doesn't matter why they didn't come back. They simply didn't come back and there was no use wasting energy over it.
You try to think of ways to occupy your thoughts. It seems to be easier to fight when your mind is on something else.
So you think. You think of every memory of your childhood, of your good friends Vera and Samuel. You think of your family and your life before the Titanic. And for awhile, you forget where you are. You forget that you are near death. You are too wrapped up in your memories.
Again, you wonder how much time has passed. To you, it feels like days have passed, no, an eternity. But you know it has been less than that. The sun has not yet risen over the horizon, so you are sure that it has only been a few hours.
A few hours to long.
All your energy is gone. Your head feels so heavy, as do your eyelids. You are trying, but it is clear that you are fighting a losing battle. Your body has gone numb. You can feel nothing but the cold.
Finally, after so long, the tears you have kept back fall freely down your face. Your head is rested against the waterlogged wood, and it feels nice. So nice, and so soft. Your eyes are closing once more, and no matter how hard you try, you can't stop them. Once it becomes clear that there is nothing you can do, you stop fighting.
It is your time to go. After all, who are you to argue against God's will? Your eyes continue to slowly close, and your body seems to feel lighter with each passing second.
The last thing you see before your eyes close forever; is a strange faint glow in the distance.
So, what did you think? Did you love it? Hate it? Want to chuck tomatoes at me? Please review and tell me what you thought about it!
Thanks a bunch!
Update: Just fixed a few grammatical errors.
Ps. Anybody know what the "strange faint glow" was? Please Review!