Neurotica Page 8
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Out on the forward deck, Christopher revelled in the moonlight. The storm had long since passed. The harbour lights were visible, on the horizon, straight ahead. He leaned over the railing, scanning the waves, alive with eels, breaking alongside the ocean liner. The sea was so alive with eels that its surface boiled with activity for as far as the eye could see. They seemed to be the sole cause of all wave action, the wind having died down to almost nil. Every once and awhile, staring down at the water, he'd get a chill, like electricity flowing up his spine, performing acupuncture on his neck. Rubbing his neck, he stepped away from the railing, fearing another bout of decapitation. He learnt his lesson the first time; he was a quick study. Two arms wrapped around his waist from behind, startling him, but there quickly followed a familiar sense of comfort.
“Letting curiosity get the best of you?” Clea kissed the back of his neck, having just returned from getting changed.
“I suppose,” He smiled, letting her sway him back and forth, “I've always been fascinated by the sea.”
“Oh look,” Clea released him, stepping up to the railing, watching the eels boil up and splash across the water's surface in the moonlight, “isn't it lovely. So romantic!”
The couple paced slowly around the front deck, hand in hand, admiring the stars overhead, encountering the odd overzealous eel that had somehow ended up on the deck, knocking it overboard. Only the gentle sound of the ship's engines and the splash of eels far below accompanied them.
Soon the ship was sliding into port, surrounded by eels. The harbour was alive with them! An eerie mist coated everything in the harbour, cancelling out the moon and the stars. The first officer, sensing his duty, climbed on top of the control room and began to ring his bell, warning other vessels in the harbour; visibility had become that bad. From high atop the deck, however, Christopher and Clea could make out a long line-up of sailors, no doubt waiting to board; the Captain's new crew.
“Here we are,” the Captain came up behind and squeezed their shoulders. But he did not startle them; they could smell the vodka approaching. “Safe and sound - a true success!”
“We appreciate everything you've done for us,” Clea shook his hand. “You really helped us to see through it all.”
“Make no mention of it,” the Captain waved his hand, shaking his head, laughing, “it's all part of my job. Besides, Christopher did most of the work. It was just up to me, and my first officer, of course, to help him along. Of course,” he gave her hand a friendly squeeze, “it wouldn't have been possible at all without you. If you weren't there for Christopher, in his time of need and self-doubt, then we all would have gone down with the ship! But now,” the Captain became quite serious, “let's get you two home, where you belong.”
Down on the dock, finally on terra firma, Christopher and Clea were greatly relieved. Of course, the cruise had been a worthwhile experience for them both. They had learnt so much, but they were too exhausted to attach any more significance to it; they just wanted to get home and rest.
They followed the Captain along, as he inspected his new crew. They had no choice; it was too foggy to venture out on their own. The first officer sat atop the Captain's shoulders, ringing his bell, warning people they were coming through. The sight thrilled all the sailors, gathered on the dock. They looked upon the Captain, with his first officer atop his shoulders, bell ringing, the third eye gleaming, and they knew that adventure was in store. The line-up of sailors seemed endless. It seemed like the inspection would never end!
“My new seamen!” the Captain raised his arm, smiling proudly, his first officer almost falling from his shoulders. “Soon my vessel will be full again!”
They finally veered away from the never-ending line-up. Christopher and Clea had no idea where they were being led, but they trusted the Captain and his first officer implicitly. Surprisingly, they were not alone in the fog. Several other young couples floated in and out of view, in various states of dress and undress, some clad in nightgowns, housecoats, and pyjamas. Several of them approached the Captain, asking when the next departure time was. But the Captain, determined to lead Christopher and Clea home, exhausted from having his first officer atop his shoulders, and still somewhat drunk, hardly had the patience to answer their questions.
“Tickets are available down at the dock,” was all he'd say, waving his hands, pressing on, his third eye gleaming.
“Was it worth it?” a young woman grabbed Clea by the arm, clutching her husband's head in her right hand. He seemed quite embarrassed by it all.
“Yes,” Clea held Christopher closer, “yes, it was.”
The Captain urged them on. The gateway was in front of them, and the path leading up to their house. Home at last.
“Here we are,” Christopher smiled. “I don't know how to thank you - we don't know how to thank you.”
“Once again,” the Captain waved his hand, “it was my duty, and it wouldn't have been possible without the two of you, working together. But I really must be going; my shoulders ache terribly and I need aspirin. Got a new crew as well, waiting for me. My work never ends.”
“Thank you, once again,” Clea shook his hand, reaching up to shake the first officer's hand as well.
“You're welcome,” the Captain smiled shyly. “I'm sure you'll enjoy a bright future together; he has a good head on his shoulders.”
Christopher and Clea, standing at their gate, waved goodbye to the Captain and his first officer. The first officer, turned right around on the Captain's shoulders, waved and waved until they disappeared into the fog. Only the ringing could be heard, and even that was fading as they headed back to the harbour.
Inside the house, preparing for bed, Christopher and Clea were almost too tired to utter another word. In fact, Christopher had dozed off in his suit and tie! Clea lay next to him, watching him breath softly. She gently caressed her stomach. She decided to tell him the good news in the morning.
“It” – Monster from the Unknown