Twisted Imaginings – A Horror And Gore Themed Blog.
The fishing boat Intrepid was late returning home but it had been a good haul for a change. Lars scratched his thick beard as he considered whether a day off was in order. As captain of the Intrepid he knew morale would be boosted by his crew spending time with their wives and family. He stared keenly into the inky black of the sea as he considered his own wife; it would be nice to see Johanna.
He was interrupted by Klaus yelling at him. Irritated, he scowled at Klaus, then in the direction he was pointing. The bruised purple of the clouds was the last thing he wanted to see right now. He then realised the air pressure had significantly changed; this was going to be trouble.
Waves lashed over the sides of the ship and it rocked violently as Lars and his crew struggled to minimize any damage. Klaus was under strict orders to keep due north as the boat veered from side to side. This was every fishermans nightmare come true! To be lost at sea was the very worst way to go. Lars staggered forward grimly, praying to whatever Gods there were that the storm would be done soon. He yelled commands in Finnish at his crew, hoping they could hear him above the rumble of thunder. They ploughed on with all the determination of a crew facing the inevitable, when a faint whisper echoed around them. it was almost inaudible at first but one by one the slowed then stopped as the unmistakeable wail of a foghorn drifted over the boat. Could they have found land? Could they be near home and safety?
Lars almost ripped the door off its hinges, fit to burst with relief, when he stopped, startled by the look on Klaus face. he was white as a sheet. “Wh…what is it?”, he stuttered. “Look at the compass!”, hissed Klaus, as his grip on the helm intensifed ever more. “My God!”, Lars rasped as he observed the wildly flailing compass. It would not remain still! “So…where are we??”, he finally managed. “I wish I knew, Skipper”, Klaus managed, “I tried to keep her as straight as I could”. “Well, at least we have that damned foghorn to guid us”, Lars grumbled, his sense of foreboding calming. In fact he felt eerily calm as he realised Klaus was silently nodding, his wide, bulging eyes staring straight ahead. With a renewed sense of doom, Lars took a breath before turning his head. “Klaus, follow that horn”, he stated quite placidly, as his attention fixed on the same as Klaus and the rest of the crew.
They never knew how, or even when, the storm had stopped and been replaced by thick murky fog, but they no longer had the choice but to follow the sound that would bring them home.
The piercing shrieks, and the sound of bodies entering the depths were as unexpected as the silencing of the horn……