And She Follows

The ghostly mirage danced on the horizon. Taunting us. Begging an approach. Her three-masted form barely discernable through heat haze or fog. Squalls did not slow her down. Rain, storm, or shine, she followed with unnatural precision.

I still remember when she first appeared. A simple spectral form silhouetted by the full moon. We were drunk on rum and fright, sharing tales of demons and devil spawn. Canton the cowardly accused our cursed tongues of releasing her from hell. I did not believe him then.

I do now.

That night she appeared, we paid little mind. She was too far out to be a threat. And if she dared to get within range, we’d simply sink her. There was not much to worry about if we kept her in sight.

I took the first watch, and as night gave way to dawn, I grew increasingly unsettled. She barely moved, remaining a fixed point on the horizon for hours on end. In all my years on the water, I’d never seen anything like it. Chills ran down my spine as the morning fog enveloped me. And despite losing sight in the tendrils of mist, I knew she was still there. Waiting.

Days went by and she followed. Despite our course changes, she remained out of reach, stalking silently as a shark. The crew grew superstitious as our companion remained. Even more so when men began to disappear.

On the third morning, Canton went missing.

The fourth morning, two disappeared in the night.

At suns rise on the fifth day, men spoke of a whisper in their dreams. They could not see her face, but she spoke in an unnatural pitch, uttering obscenity that made the most hardened men blush. Each woke to utter the phrase, “no port in a storm.”

Fear spread through the ship like a disease. Men shouted and cursed our pursuant as if it would help. Curses turned to bargains, bargains to begging, begging to silence.

After a week we swung the ship around to see if we might be able to catch her head-on. Still, she remained fixed on the horizon off our stern. It was not possible for a ship to anticipate our movements so precisely.

That night, I prayed to a God I did not believe in.

Men continued to disappear in the night. The woman still whispered. Our crew dwindled and grew ever more suspicious and mad.

Against the growing dark, I tried to hold onto a glimmer of hope. We would find land soon. We had to. This horror would end and be nothing more than a story to tell on the decks of ships and around fires. We were three days from landfall. We only had to survive those three final days.

But land would never appear. The maps and compasses showed nothing. Even the stars were of no help to us, disappearing one by one into the black void. We saw nothing but open water, and her.

Weeks have gone by, and only I remain. Her voice is still there. It echoes in my skull, telling me there is no reprieve. No rest. No place to make berth.

I tried to give up, to jump overboard and end my suffering but it never ends. I wake the next morning in my bed once more. An endless loop of pursuer and pursued.

Perhaps I died long ago when we first saw her. Perhaps this is the price I must pay for a life of pillaging and piracy. A boat with no crew, or treasure to find. Condemned to sail on an empty sea.

And she follows.