In this chapter, I introduce this story's old person! Yay!
Window to the Past
Chapter 11: Three Sheets to the Wind
The water rushed past Alice, sweeping her further down the ravine as helplessly as a leaf in a windstorm. She tried to scream, in hopes that anyone could help her, but her body froze up. She couldn't move. Alice was petrified with fear.
Adrian was shaken awake quickly. The water was freezing; he wasn't prepared for it. Trying to keep above the water's surface to retain the ability to breathe proved useless when sudden undertows tossed him downwards, smashing into the riverbed. Adrian, surrounded by what he was sure would be his watery grave, couldn't move. He was petrified with fear.
Toby was thrust into the water. The last thing he remembered was passing out in front of his diary; now he was in the middle of rapids. Terror welled up in his throat before the water did. Toby began to panic, choking on a mixture of water and tangible phobia as he was thrown carelessly further downstream.
One by one, everyone got thrust forward in a desperate attempt to save themselves. One by one, they fell victim to the water. One by one, they fell victim to fear. Their brain frantically switched between each of them, hoping that one would be able to grasp the situation, that one of them would be able to save them. But none of them could.
Alice was drowning. Adrian was drowning. Toby was drowning. David was drowning. Daphne was drowning. Tristan was drowning.
Their eyes closed as the surface grew further and further away. The warmth of the sun faded, being replaced by only cold water, harsh motion, and pain. In unison, each one of them let their last breath go, watching it float up to the sky they would never see again.
David felt so warm...Something was covering him. He wanted to find out what it was, but sleep felt so much more enticing right now. So he didn't even open his eyes. David let the slow gentle rocking motion lull him back to sleep...
But he found he couldn't. His body, no matter how much he figuratively pleaded with it, would not let slumber take it. Sighing, David rolled onto his back, and forced his eyes open.
David was indoors, in a small room. The quiet sound of water lapping up against a wall sang to him, in tandem with the smells of salt and...pasta. The room was coloured in a very warm colour-scheme. Light browns and warm oranges. It was all very relaxing. He was lying on a bed, covered halfway with a blanket. This was a little awkward due to the shape of his body; the blanket barely covered a quarter of him to avoid resting over his mouth. Nonetheless, he was quite a bit lot warmer than he had been when
David shot up, the memories of drowning coming back to him. Was he dead?! David tested this by moving the blankets. Well, he's not a ghost, at least.
"So," he said quietly to himself, "I'm either alive or in heaven."
Now that he was sitting up, David could look at the rest of the room. The room was clad with only a dresser, an armchair, and a small bed, which he was currently on. Throwing the covers off, he slipped off and onto the ground. His balance was a bit off, and he teetered back and forth, trying to regain his equilibrium. David braced himself on the bed, catching himself. He blinked twice. Did the room just move?
Accompanied by the sound of water, David shakily made his way to the door, swerving back and forth on the floor as if he were drunk. A sudden bump threw him against the door with a small 'thump'.
David rolled over on the ground and sat with his back against the door. He looked carefully outwards towards what looked like a small corridor. It was indeed small; only a bit wider than David himself. At the end, he saw some stairs leading upwards. On the other side of the corridor was what looked like a small bathroom. Since he didn't really need to use the facilities right now, he decided to go upstairs and see if anyone was there. After a few light collisions with the walls, David grabbed onto the railing. He climbed up the stairs, now getting the hang of the inherent swaying.
"Ay, you're up again, then?" David heard another voice call from up the stairs. "D'you need another drink, or are you going to explain yourself past you bein' a 'pilgrim'?"
David was instantly confused. Pilgrim? He hardly knew him! Climbing up the top of the stairs, he looked to his left to see an old man staring over his shoulder at what looked like the helm of the boat. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a lighter blue pair of pants. His hair was white, along with the large mustache and beard on his face. His grey eyes were crinkled, betraying a small smile underneath his mustache. "Uh...excuse me," David said quietly, "but where am I?"
"What's this?" he asked, his eyes' expression changing from wry to surprised. "You're actin' a bit different than I last remember you. Y'were a mite more curt with your way of speakin'...'I'm thirsty', I believe you said," he looked up at the curved white ceiling of the room. "The way you said it almost sounded like a command!"
David wasn't sure what he was talking about. All he knew was that he was dizzy, this guy was talking to him, and there was a lot of water out of the window. And the guy didn't answer his question.
"Where am I?" he asked again, realizing his mouth wasn't really moving the way he wanted it to.
"You're on my beaut, the Daybreak. A while back I saw you bein' swept out o' Niccola Ravine at a mighty fast pace. T'wern't movin', neither. O' course, that not movin' made you sink like a stone, so I acted quickly. I got your bag, too, though the stuff inside's a bit damp."
David nodded absently, what this man was saying barely making it into his head. Everything seemed distant to him, as if he were watching it from far away. "An' who're you?"
"I told you already," he said, his eyes crinkling up again. "Though that were before I 'lifted your spirits', so t' speak. I go by Glenn Charleston, but m' friends call me Glenn."
"Can..." David paused as if he forgot what he was about to say. "Can I call you Glenn?"
Glenn broke out into laughter. "Mate, unless you're a filthy no-good rotten scumbag, you're a friend to me! The only filthy no-good rotten scumbag that I consider my friend is my wife, but..." he stopped and leaned in. "I never said that, right?"
David, not getting what Glenn was implying, simply nodded absently.
Glenn straightened up, then turned back to the wheel. The two of them stood in silence a bit, before Glenn spoke again. "You feeling alright, mate? Y'seem t' be three sheets to the wind."
"Huh?" David drawled. "Oh. Uh...I've just been dizzy since I got up."
"Hmm...y'must have a low tolerance, then," he said quietly, as if to himself. "In hindsight, feedin' you whiskey might not've been the best idea."
"Whiskey? Izzat like, whiskers?" David asked.
Glenn broke into laughter again. "No, no, mate. Whiskey's a pick-me-up. Made from...grains, I believe. Tell you what; go out t' the front deck. The night air should clear up your mind."
David nodded but stayed where he stood. Glenn gave a gentle nod to a door near him, and David took the hint. Staggering over to the door, he pushed it open.
The warm night breeze gently caressed David as soon as he stepped out of the cabin. His mind did start to clear a bit, but he decided a little exposure wasn't enough. He wanted this headache to end. He stepped out into the night air.
Tracing his right stub against the wall of the cabin, David walked forward along the front. The polished wood felt cool and smooth against his feet and the soft wind felt pleasant. The smell of salt was stronger here. As he walked forward, he felt small bumps, as if the ground were moving. A side glance told him his sack was on the 'front deck' as Glenn had referred to it. Stumbling forward, David rested his chin on the railing and looked down.
All Daphne saw was water.
"AAH!" she screeched, backpedaling madly from the railing. She tripped on a deck chair and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled out on the deck.
"Y'alright there, Mabel?" Daphne heard a voice behind her call, as if behind a pane of glass. Looking back, she saw that he was behind a pane of glass.
"Y...yes, I'm fine, thank you," Daphne called back, dusting herself off. In the back of her mind, she wondered who had introduced themselves as 'Mabel'. Probably Alice; she was the only girl, besides her.
"There y'go again," the man marveled. "D'you have bipolar 'r somethin'? Naw, that'd be two, wouldn'it? And you have three, at least."
He's talking about the alters, Daphne conceded. I suppose I could tell him.
"I have Multiple Personality Disorder, I believe," Daphne said slowly, staring up at the man through the glass.
The man motioned for her to join him in the cabin.
Here we go, she thought tiredly.
"So there's six of you?" Glenn asked, completely enthralled. "That's amazin'. I can't imagine livin' like that. And you're Daphne, you said?"
Daphne nodded. "Yes. The others are Toby, who's quiet and apologetic; Adrian, who's...er...assertive; Alice, who seems interested with what the others think; David, who simply seems to be an excitable child; and Tristan. I admittedly don't know much of him, because he revealed himself only yesterday."
Glenn nodded. "I think I understand. It's somethin' straight out of a science fiction novel, but I get it."
"And I want to thank you for saving my life," Daphne said. "I appreciate that."
"Y' appreciate it?" Glenn let out a small breath. "Well, it's thanks, though I've ne'er heard it expressed quite like that."
Daphne's professional smile faded a bit at that comment, but Glenn didn't seem to notice. "You said you talk t' the others through a journal, ah?"
"Right," Daphne confirmed, silently cursing herself for not saying something.
"That...might be a problem," Glenn's mustache curved downward. "As I told you, you were in the water...an' I'm assumin' the journal was in the sack..."
Daphne's eyes bulged as she caught on to what he was saying.
"Not to worry, though," Glenn quipped as he turned around. He turned back towards Daphne holding another generic journal. "I hope this'll do?"
Daphne took it carefully from his hands. "Yes, thank you. You don't mind if I write now, do you?"
Glenn waved his hand. "Go ahead. I need to drive the boat, anyways."
A boat, Daphne realized, blinking. We're on a boat.
"Necessary update," Alice wrote. "The man's name is Glenn Charleston. We're on a boat called the Daybreak. This is our new journal since the last one got wet. I think he got David drunk."
"He did WHAT?!" Alice wrote harshly. "He got David DRUNK?!"
"Man, I wish I was there," Adrian wrote, smirking. "I hear the little ones get really wild when they're wasted."
"...Are you usually like this?" Tristan asked.
"Glenn's watching me," Toby wrote slowly. "Should I be concerned?"
"No, he's simply interested in the concept of having multiple people in one body," Daphne explained.
"It is kinda wierd," David admitted. "It's not normal, is it?"
"Hold on...we're on a boat?" Alice asked. "As in...a boat on the water? Shouldn't we avoid water? Remember what happened the last three times we got water? The first time we almost drowned, the second time we got our stuff stolen, and the third time we almost drowned!"
"Well, we don't really have much choice," Adrian said matter-of-factly. "If any of you want to abandon ship in favour for land, I invite you to Wait, don't. I'm stuck with you idiots. If you jump ship, I'll strangle you to Dang it, this frickin' disorder makes it so hard to threaten you."
"Poor Adrian can't make us feel bad," Alice wrote. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll think of something. It's your calling, after all."
"Look, I know you're all having fun, but does anyone know where this boat is going?" Tristan asked.
"I can answer that for you," Glenn said from over Tristan's shoulder, making him jump. He whipped around to face the sailor, his breath quick and shallow.
"I didn't mean to startle you like that, er...Tristan," Glenn apologized as he looked over at the page. Tristan quickly turned around and shut it before facing Glenn again.
He gave a wry smile. "We're headed to the northwest coast of Ostlea, specifically the city of Wayford. I have a small shipment I'm making there."
"Wh...I have no idea what you're talking about," Tristan's breathing didn't slow. He didn't care what the others said; he didn't know Glenn, and this guy could strangle him at any moment.
"Right, Daph told me you got yourself amnesia, too. Right bad luck you have, there. Ostlea's the continent. Pretty varied as far as climates go; though it's pretty southern, so y'have to go north to Corfort for colder weather. Wayford's a harbor city; lotta business there, 'specially for someone like me. I've been going back and forth between Wayford an' Newdell on the south side of Ostlea for a pretty long time. There've been times I've gone further, even to far-off places like Vertlea an' Byholt, but I'm gettin' older, and the oceans aren't treating me as well as they did some twenty years ago."
Needless to say, the most Tristan got from that was that he was taking him to a city, and he had said a lot of names that he was probably going to forget. Without saying a word, he turned back to his diary and wrote down where they were going.
"We're headed to Wayford, not Corfort. Corfort's a continent," Glenn corrected quietly.
Tristan gave a curt nod, crossed out Corfort, then hunched over the diary so Glenn couldn't read over his shoulder anymore.
Amused, Glenn stood back up and gripped the wheel again. "You're an interesting one, you are. I won't soon forget about you."
The night sky was more expansive than Toby had ever seen it before. Even in the meadows, it never seemed this wide. The black waters below them provided a mirror image, giving the illusion that the Daybreak was sailing through the stars. The moon was a crescent, though Toby wasn't sure whether it was waxing or waning. Beyond its curved outline, though, Toby could see nebulas and galaxies twisting and arching through the cosmos. He had never seen this much colour in the night sky. Toby always thought it was just black and white.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Deep purples, dark blues, and faded greens stretched across the sky, accenting the white specks scattered across the sky like beads on silk. The soft wind blew Toby backwards as he craned his head up to gaze at the stars.
The best thing, he thought, was the near complete silence of it all.
The only thing he heard was the quiet lapping of the water against the hull of the ship and the soft hum of the motor. Nothing else disturbed him. Nothing else intruded on this moment.
The port side of the ship gave Toby a view of shadowy outlines. He guessed this must be land. From time to time, he spotted flickering lights on the shore, reasoning them to be villages or cities. He was left to wonder how many miles he had traveled now.
Toby felt the rough fabric of a deck chair at his back. Taking the opportunity, he lied down and closed his eyes. Toby slept.
Daphne woke up to relatively clammy air. Forcing her eyes open, Daphne quickly saw that the morning was filled with fog. She squinted but was unable to see anything beyond the bow of the ship. Turning back, she saw Glenn steering the ship. Without much else to do, she entered the cabin to escape the chilly air.
"Glenn," Daphne called. "Are you going to be alright going through this fog?"
The sailor laughed lightly, not taking his eyes off the window. "I told...Tristan, I believe. I told 'im last night I've been up an' down this coast so many times I know it off by heart. I could do it with my eyes shut."
"...You aren't going to, are you?" Daphne asked uneasily.
"Might as well, with all this fog," Glenn answered, gesturing to all the mist coating the boat. "But don't you fret. Barrin' other boats, there isn't any surprises on the way to Wayford."
"That's good to hear," Daphne said simply. The two of them stood in silence for a while, the only noise being the louder rumble of the engine.
Glenn broke it. "So, Daph. What's your plan once you get to Wayford?"
"I...don't know," Daphne admitted. "Really, most of the time, we've simply just been trying to stay alive."
Glenn gave her an approving nod. "A respectable goal, t' be sure. Stayin' alive's most of the time a good star t' shoot for. But when you get to Wayford, how exactly are you going to stay alive?"
"I'm not sure," Daphne said "I'm not familiar with the layout of Wayford. Most of the time, we play it by ear, so to speak."
"Y'might be disappointed, then," Glenn said, shaking his head. "Wayford isn't a city you can simply 'make it' in. It's big an' unfriendly, 'specially if you don't have a job."
Daphne looked down at the ground. "It's that bad, is it?"
"Well...it's alright if you're passin' through. But if you want my opinion, stayin' alive shouldn't be your only goal."
Daphne looked up at Glenn. "What do you mean?"
"Well...you have amnesia, don't you?" Glenn asked. "Why don't you find out who y'are?"
"I..." Daphne trailed off. "I never really thought about that."
"You're a puffball, aren't you? Northeast of Wayford; right below the continent o' Corfort, there's a settlement o' people like you. Respectable size, too. If I were t' hazard a guess, I'd say you're from there. Why don't you try headin' to Wyvern?"
"Wyvern?" Daphne asked blankly. "That's its name?"
Glenn nodded, then looked back out in front of the boat.
Wyvern...for some reason, Daphne didn't like the name. It had a bit of a darker connotation than something like Niccola or Wayford. Perhaps that was where Vi was from?
"Though...I've heard there's some strange goings-on in that part o' the world," Glenn said absently. "If you're gonna go, be careful. I don't want t' read about your death in the papers, y' hear? Though," Glenn gave a small chuckle. "I don't quite enjoy readin' about death in general. Ah, there it is. Wayford."
Daphne looked forward from the bow of the boat. From what she could see, thoughts and opinions already filled her head about what Wayford would be like.
Probably terrifying.
I describe Wayford and how David got drunk next chapter!
...I'm wondering if this story should be rated T...