Short Story: The Ghost Ship

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Richard Line 10 - Red

Short Story: The Ghost Ship

I twisted the stiff doorknob, my hand slipping against the wet shiny brass. I clenched tighter and tried once more to rotate it, this time succeeding. I had to keep a tight grip on the handle as the screaming wind nearly threw the door against the inner wall. I placed one sodden boot inside the door and onto the mat, squinting at the uncomfortable squelching noise produced. I twisted my body, so as to position my weight behind the door, still with one hand firmly gripping the knob that refused to be held by my numbed hand. I pushed against the door until I heard the satisfying click of the door locking. The angered wind still persistently pounding against the frail wooden door, which, I feared, would not last very long. I turned, every individual movement making the icy water penetrate deeper into my rapidly declining dry layers of clothing, peering through the thick layer of hazy cigarette smoke that made my eyes water and it nearly impossible to make out detailed objects in the room. I realised that after my struggle with the door I had forgotten to wipe my feet, consequently doing so, allowing time for my eyes to adjust to the thick smoke. The bar was empty apart from three figures to my right, who silenced as they saw me, and a man behind the bar. I approached the small plump barman, who was leant upon the bar, as I did so the figures began to whisper to each other again. In front of him stood a glass with the reminiscence of a strong spirit. His face was as red as a tomato, this must have been what first attracted me to him as it was as though his head was a beacon among the deep grey smoke, and he had not one hair upon his head.

"Evening, Whiskey please - on the rocks" A large bolt of lightning illuminated the dimly lit bar area, as it did so I caught a glance at three other haggard males in the worn red seating area, who ceased to whisper when the one facing me noticed I was watching.

"Make it a double."

He nodded and turned his back to me, pulling a large dusty glass from above his head. He placed this underneath a small tap and gave it a quick rinse. Still with his back to me he pulled a tattered dishcloth from his waistline, dried the glass inside and out and held it up to one of the rare points of light in the bar - the whole process making little improvement to the quality of the glass that he was using. He turned and swiftly grabbed his own glass and proceeded to fill both of them. As he handed me my glass he raised his own.

"Cheers" I said handing him the correct change in exchange for my drink, he checked his handful of coins briefly and nodded in reply.

I was just about to retire from the bar with my drink and take up a seat in a dark corner of the worn seating area when the red-faced barman began to speak.

"You travel alone?" he said in a monotonous deep Scottish accent.

"Yes, I'm from London, I thought I'd come up North to relax," I replied "Is the weather always this bad?" I gestured towards the door, which nearly flew open with a sudden gust of wind.

"Once a year, for four days," he lowered the tone of his voice, "when the ship returns" He picked up my empty glass along with his and glanced at me, but I raised my hand shook my head.

"Ship?" I was confused; once again he filled his glass with his back to me.

"The ghost ship." He said blankly

"Sorry, I thought you said 'ghost ship'" I chuckled, he turned to face me. He knocked his head back, the liquid vanishing almost in an instant, and slammed the empty glass down on the bar. I stopped chuckling after noticing his face carried no emotion, but still upheld a friendly smile.

"Yes, the ghost ship" He said, still blankly.

"Oh right, ok," I said nervously, both intrigued and confused at the same time, "What sort of 'ghost ship?'"

His faced changed now from the still and blank picture that it was before, to a face that held the basis of terror, a terror unknown to myself. I was therefore prompted to be petrified before the barman even opened his mouth, and wondered whether I should have asked this question, but then realised that it was too late to change my mind now. He opened his mouth but I could barely here the words before they were whipped away by the surging draft creeping in between the gap underneath the door.
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"See these men here," He pointed towards the three shadowy figures in the far corner of the room that I had noticed on my entrance, I nodded in return, "These men have seen the ship."

"But..." I tried to quiz him further on this 'ship'.

"Go find out for yourself, but I'll warn you now, it's no story" He turned and began to polish his glass again, I took this as my cue to leave my place at the bar, and reluctantly made my way towards the three shadowy figures. As the distance between the shadows ...

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