Echoes of Her Past II
“…foulest flagon of siren shit I ever had to put in me mouth!” he grimaced, a toothless, foul-odored act, “I dunna care what you say.”
The creak of the hull as the rigger swayed heavily was noted by each man in the room.
“Yer fuckin’ wrong I say! I’ve stomached it n’ar a few times…and ‘ere I stand!” a burly counterpart replied.
Lightning crashed and the pounding of thunder was barely audible over the roaring of the waves on deck.
“Yeah, but you look like a bucket o’ shit!” the first man barked. The sweaty room erupted in a cacophony of laughter and insults.
A piercing wind, howling, cutting through the storm caused all of the seasoned sailors to take pause. The sails overhead jabbered against their restraints.
“Man Jesus! I don’t think I’ve seen it this bad ever!” a young lad in the corner said.
“The storm, the water, I can handle that,” one of the older sailors replied, “I’ve seen worse. It’s that devil’s wind that gets t’ me.”
“Why’s that, Bo?” the lad asked.
“The wind, boy. Think about it,” Bo turned to face the lad, “Where does it come from? What is it made of?” He paused, and then added, “Aye, you don’t know, do ya’?”
The young boy shook his head, waiting for more of the tale that was bound to flow.
“There are some as say, the winds are the screams of the dying. Never really begin or end. Just keeps going ’round from place to place,” Bo’s gaze circled the room of younger men as he spoke, “There are those t’would say, the screams of the cursed, the damned, the murdered, all of them…that’s what rides the skies. Did ya’ ever notice, no wind is ever the same? But, more than a one has given me a shiver all’u me spine and right into my shoes. Touched me with those cold, ghostly fingers it has.”
The wind screeched by the starboard portholes, rattling the glass and causing the boy to look out into the night. The swaying of the hull. The flapping of the sails. The flashes of lightning.
“There are those as say,” the low voice continued, “Enough of those dead screams, enough of that devil’s wind gets together in one spot…you’ve got a storm of nightmares on your hands. I reckon that’s what we got here…” Except I ain’t never heard it this bad before, his mind finished.
“Say, Bo,” someone interrupted, “I figger it’s time we relieve the sorry sods up deck.”
“Aye, let me just finish what I’ve started,” Bo snorted back over his shoulder before leaning in toward the lad, “Take this one to bed with you, boy. They also say, that if you sit real still and listen real close. You can actually hear what the wind is screaming. You can hear what the dead have t’ say.”
The eyes of the lad were saucer-wide as the door to the cabin burst open. Several of the men rose, cursing as the rain and wind stormed into the cabin, extinguishing the lantern.
Illuminated by a forked flash of lightning, every man in that cabin saw a lithe beauty standing in the doorway, the wind screaming in around her…