Disclaimer: I don't own the titanic, but if I did, I wouldn't b making that
much of a profit considering it's SUNK. Lol. Maybe I *do * own it, and my
family are forcing me to write this for money cos we have no other source
of income! :S
I don't want to own it! So that gets me in the clear! :-D
p.s Don't Sue me!
Business men Cant swim.
Jed looked out of the small porthole, seemingly trapped inside the ship, in his 2nd class compartment; a tiny steel bubble in which condensation fogged up the windows. He paced up and down, nervous at the thought of travelling at night, this was never going to be easy for him, and he had heard too many horror stories about ships. He decided to get out of his steel box, and go for a walk around the deck. This, he thought, might calm his nerves. He turned out into the corridor, the white painted wood carved into ornate patterns, He stepped out onto the deck, alone except for one or two people gazing out to sea, their eyes drawn to it, an unknown hazard lurking beneath them, not known to be friend or foe.
He glanced at his watch, which read 11:37, and carried on walking around the ship, putting his hand on the safety rail, flimsy, yet a precaution against death. He had a bad feeling about this, ever since they had set out from Southampton, he had been cautious. He didn't trust the stewards, or the captain for that. He hadn't wanted to go on the ship; but, he needed to get to America, and this was fastest. The ship, he had been proudly told, was competing for the fastest Atlantic crossing, and was making it's way straight across. Jed had seen, as the Titanic was setting off, a smaller boat, the name 'New York' proudly emblazoned on it's side, get sucked towards the screws of the Titanic. It had nearly ended in disaster before it started. The hull of the ship had glistened on the water, a swan among frogs, a beautiful child, proudly displayed by parents, shown off to anyone who would listen; which, viewing the grandeur of the Titanic, many people would stop and gasp, something which gave the creators a feeling of pleasure, making them smugly reel off facts, sometimes, when a difficult question was asked just laconically giving off a posh laugh and hastily changing the subject. He shook his head and decided that he wouldn't use this ship again. Who knows what will happen? Jed paused, his head cocked, as he heard a bell ringing distantly near the crow's nest. The ship had been fitted with new telephones, so they could communicate. Jed had been told all this during his first night here, over dinner. The captain had proudly reeled off statistic after statistic to the audience eating in the diner. Jed was just a businessman, and superstitious. He was selling sailing equipment across the Atlantic, so, his bosses had rather jokingly suggested, why didn't he travel by boat?
It was all right for them, Jed thought; they didn't have to travel on this God-forsaken thing. He would have liked to have used the chapel, with it's mirrors and decoration, displaying a vain gloriousness, it all seeming rather empty, the people coming and going from it. He couldn't though; it was reserved for the crème de la crème of passengers, with enough money to buy their own Titanic. After New York, they were going to cross the equator, and be given a naff certificate congratulating them on crossing. It wasn't that big an achievement, Jed considered.
A shudder ran through his feet, as thought the ship were in pain, and he was thrown forwards, off his feet, and crashing onto a bench. He got wearily back up to his feet, rubbing his head, and feeling slightly woozy.
He grabbed hold of the side rail, peering over to the 3rd class deck, the crummy people of the world, who, although able to afford a ticket, were shunned by the posh people who had considered the ship as a tribute to the magnificence of the ideological world in which most of them lived. The deck was a polished affair, although the soot from the funnels had covered the deck, a dark snow, polluting the world, covering it like a blanket, smothering it. There were few life rafts down there, Jed noticed with a shudder. A couple of benches were arranged facing out to sea, staring, empty to a dark nothingness, except two lone life rings attached to the safety rail.
Several men dressed in threadbare dressing gowns were on the deck, calling to each other through the cold, ice lying on the deck, placed to make goal posts, on a pitch of splinters. The men didn't seem to care, they were too immersed in the football, giving the lump of ice serving as a ball a half- hearted kick, before giving a yelp of pain, and chasing after the lump, slithering into each other. They looked quite comical, Jed observed. The women were leaning out of the doors onto the deck, surrounded by children, running about giggling.
Jed turned back to his deck, noticing that now, people had come out onto the deck, wearing evening wear, clutching cocktails, snooty laughter ringing in the air. Stewards were running furiously, trying to persuade people to put on lifejackets. "Madam, please, just slip it on, just as a safety precaution, it probably won't matter, but you should just practice.There that's better yes, see? Now, if you could just ask your husband to do the same." Most, though weree refusing, calling it a joke, and kicking the lifejackets away, with polished leather shoes. A man came on deck, standing on a wooden box. "Now! Ladies and Gentlemen, please do not worry, it was just a minor fault, but for health and safety matter we do require you to wear lifejackets. It should be sorted out soon, but for now, we present to you the Titanic's very own classical quartet." A smatter of polite applause broke through the air, tinkling in the cold. They start up a lively piece, encouraging an atmosphere. Jed mingled a little, a Manhattan in his hand. A steward came on deck again, the muusic stopping as he cleared his throat. Jed could see sweat on his forehead the man almost trembling. Jed focused on the floor, watching as a mouse scuttled by, unnoticed by the elegant ladies and gentlemen standing on deck. If it had been noticed, there would be almost certainly a lot more noise. "...Yes, now if the ladies would like to return to their quarters to collect any personal objects of utmost importance, along with any children that there may be, and then proceed to the lifeboat stations Numbers 1 and 2." A general silence settled over the audience, as what had just been said sunk in. They had all realised that the ship was going to sink. Jed felt a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach, turned, and was sick into the sea, floating down like a balloon. Someone screamed, piercing the night air, and a commotion started. A man reached into his jacket, and flinging his arm straight up, fired two shots from a small pistol. There was more screaming, and Jed backed away, as fights broke out, men fighting men, women fighting women, struggling to get to life boats, all thought of valuables forgotten. Jed backed away, not wanting to be caught up in a fight. A man leered up to him, clearly drunk and thrust his face right up to the Jed's head. Jed staggered backwards, falling over the same safety rail he had remarked on earlier striking his head on a metal stanchion. Jed gave a groan, and rolled over. The world turned into a kaelidascope of colours, and, oddly, he realised he was going to die, and a poem he had learnt in University English class repeated over and over in his head, and not in a desperate way, but as if it was the only thought In his head.
'Full fathom five thy father lies, Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them, - ding-dong bell.
-William Shakespeare'
He was left lieing in a pool of his own blood, as his eyes glazed over, all he could hear was screaming, and a dull ringing.
Kinda short, but Review! Pls!
Business men Cant swim.
Jed looked out of the small porthole, seemingly trapped inside the ship, in his 2nd class compartment; a tiny steel bubble in which condensation fogged up the windows. He paced up and down, nervous at the thought of travelling at night, this was never going to be easy for him, and he had heard too many horror stories about ships. He decided to get out of his steel box, and go for a walk around the deck. This, he thought, might calm his nerves. He turned out into the corridor, the white painted wood carved into ornate patterns, He stepped out onto the deck, alone except for one or two people gazing out to sea, their eyes drawn to it, an unknown hazard lurking beneath them, not known to be friend or foe.
He glanced at his watch, which read 11:37, and carried on walking around the ship, putting his hand on the safety rail, flimsy, yet a precaution against death. He had a bad feeling about this, ever since they had set out from Southampton, he had been cautious. He didn't trust the stewards, or the captain for that. He hadn't wanted to go on the ship; but, he needed to get to America, and this was fastest. The ship, he had been proudly told, was competing for the fastest Atlantic crossing, and was making it's way straight across. Jed had seen, as the Titanic was setting off, a smaller boat, the name 'New York' proudly emblazoned on it's side, get sucked towards the screws of the Titanic. It had nearly ended in disaster before it started. The hull of the ship had glistened on the water, a swan among frogs, a beautiful child, proudly displayed by parents, shown off to anyone who would listen; which, viewing the grandeur of the Titanic, many people would stop and gasp, something which gave the creators a feeling of pleasure, making them smugly reel off facts, sometimes, when a difficult question was asked just laconically giving off a posh laugh and hastily changing the subject. He shook his head and decided that he wouldn't use this ship again. Who knows what will happen? Jed paused, his head cocked, as he heard a bell ringing distantly near the crow's nest. The ship had been fitted with new telephones, so they could communicate. Jed had been told all this during his first night here, over dinner. The captain had proudly reeled off statistic after statistic to the audience eating in the diner. Jed was just a businessman, and superstitious. He was selling sailing equipment across the Atlantic, so, his bosses had rather jokingly suggested, why didn't he travel by boat?
It was all right for them, Jed thought; they didn't have to travel on this God-forsaken thing. He would have liked to have used the chapel, with it's mirrors and decoration, displaying a vain gloriousness, it all seeming rather empty, the people coming and going from it. He couldn't though; it was reserved for the crème de la crème of passengers, with enough money to buy their own Titanic. After New York, they were going to cross the equator, and be given a naff certificate congratulating them on crossing. It wasn't that big an achievement, Jed considered.
A shudder ran through his feet, as thought the ship were in pain, and he was thrown forwards, off his feet, and crashing onto a bench. He got wearily back up to his feet, rubbing his head, and feeling slightly woozy.
He grabbed hold of the side rail, peering over to the 3rd class deck, the crummy people of the world, who, although able to afford a ticket, were shunned by the posh people who had considered the ship as a tribute to the magnificence of the ideological world in which most of them lived. The deck was a polished affair, although the soot from the funnels had covered the deck, a dark snow, polluting the world, covering it like a blanket, smothering it. There were few life rafts down there, Jed noticed with a shudder. A couple of benches were arranged facing out to sea, staring, empty to a dark nothingness, except two lone life rings attached to the safety rail.
Several men dressed in threadbare dressing gowns were on the deck, calling to each other through the cold, ice lying on the deck, placed to make goal posts, on a pitch of splinters. The men didn't seem to care, they were too immersed in the football, giving the lump of ice serving as a ball a half- hearted kick, before giving a yelp of pain, and chasing after the lump, slithering into each other. They looked quite comical, Jed observed. The women were leaning out of the doors onto the deck, surrounded by children, running about giggling.
Jed turned back to his deck, noticing that now, people had come out onto the deck, wearing evening wear, clutching cocktails, snooty laughter ringing in the air. Stewards were running furiously, trying to persuade people to put on lifejackets. "Madam, please, just slip it on, just as a safety precaution, it probably won't matter, but you should just practice.There that's better yes, see? Now, if you could just ask your husband to do the same." Most, though weree refusing, calling it a joke, and kicking the lifejackets away, with polished leather shoes. A man came on deck, standing on a wooden box. "Now! Ladies and Gentlemen, please do not worry, it was just a minor fault, but for health and safety matter we do require you to wear lifejackets. It should be sorted out soon, but for now, we present to you the Titanic's very own classical quartet." A smatter of polite applause broke through the air, tinkling in the cold. They start up a lively piece, encouraging an atmosphere. Jed mingled a little, a Manhattan in his hand. A steward came on deck again, the muusic stopping as he cleared his throat. Jed could see sweat on his forehead the man almost trembling. Jed focused on the floor, watching as a mouse scuttled by, unnoticed by the elegant ladies and gentlemen standing on deck. If it had been noticed, there would be almost certainly a lot more noise. "...Yes, now if the ladies would like to return to their quarters to collect any personal objects of utmost importance, along with any children that there may be, and then proceed to the lifeboat stations Numbers 1 and 2." A general silence settled over the audience, as what had just been said sunk in. They had all realised that the ship was going to sink. Jed felt a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach, turned, and was sick into the sea, floating down like a balloon. Someone screamed, piercing the night air, and a commotion started. A man reached into his jacket, and flinging his arm straight up, fired two shots from a small pistol. There was more screaming, and Jed backed away, as fights broke out, men fighting men, women fighting women, struggling to get to life boats, all thought of valuables forgotten. Jed backed away, not wanting to be caught up in a fight. A man leered up to him, clearly drunk and thrust his face right up to the Jed's head. Jed staggered backwards, falling over the same safety rail he had remarked on earlier striking his head on a metal stanchion. Jed gave a groan, and rolled over. The world turned into a kaelidascope of colours, and, oddly, he realised he was going to die, and a poem he had learnt in University English class repeated over and over in his head, and not in a desperate way, but as if it was the only thought In his head.
'Full fathom five thy father lies, Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them, - ding-dong bell.
-William Shakespeare'
He was left lieing in a pool of his own blood, as his eyes glazed over, all he could hear was screaming, and a dull ringing.
Kinda short, but Review! Pls!