Written by Douglas J Silfies
The Pacific Ocean lay open for miles around. The blue water, that just last night Albrecht found comforting, now tortured his mind with the memory of the tempest that had torn his ship apart and cast him off in this lone lifeboat. Every couple hours, now that the sun had risen and gave light to the vast blue plains just through the looming storm clouds, he beared the sight of the great ocean to look upon the horizon for land. Every successive visual adventure became more and more taxing on his mind, until finally he saw a slight strip of green in the distance. Just poking out from above the waters he could see an island. He furiously began paddling with his plank, a piece of the ship he once sailed on, the Verraderlijk, in the direction of the island. He continued paddling for hours, only stopping well into the night when he could not see his prize in the distance, and got some rest. When he awoke he found himself noticeably closer then when he had last seen it. With joyous anxiety he resumed his paddling. By roughly midday he had made it to the shore. He dragged the lifeboat as far up as he could, caught his breath, and turned to face the island he now found himself on. He immediately got down on his knees, down on the dry sand and cried. Clutching the cross he held at his neck, silently sobbing for what felt like an eternity. Crying from the immense pain in his arms and the growling hunger of his stomach, and from the joy of finally being on stationary, dry ground. Once he had stopped, he had resigned himself to laying there on the beach, relaxing, resting his strained body after his determined dash for the island. He eventually got back up and went to the forest, collecting dead wood and fallen branches to make a fire for the night. The hot sand felt softer than a bed made of the clouds themselves, and his sleep was on of the most amazing he had ever enjoyed in his life. The morning was a considerably rude awakening to this blissful slumber.
He felt his thigh being jabbed by a sharp object. When he finally awoke he nearly jumped to discover a man standing over him. The man was young, younger than Albrecht was, and carried a peculiar spear-like stick with several branching points instead of one. Other than a headdress made of leaves to keep the sun out of his eyes, and an empty woven basket tied to his waste by a rope, he had no discernable garments. The man seemed startled to see Albrecht move, to see him alive, as though he knew of the fate of the Verraderlijk and its crew and how improbable it would be for one of them to survive. In the distance, another man called out to the one standing over Albrecht. The man turned and called back, and engaged in a conversation with someone not too far away. The language was unknown to Albrecht, and after a while the other man, a considerably older gentleman, possible the younger’s father, had arrived within Albrecht’s view. The two conversed quietly, whilst Albrecht stood up. As he did they stared at him with a cautious curiosity, watching his every move, waiting to see what next he would do. He finished his movements by sitting on the brim of the lifeboat, after a short pause, the two’s conversation resumed. After a while the two approached Albrecht and gestured for him to follow them. Reluctantly, he followed the two, especially when the older one offered a handful of berries from a leather pouch he had in addition to the basket on his belt. The three went on an hour long journey into the forest, Albrecht soaking in the pristine sounds of the forest the whole way. The apparent destination of their journey was that of a village. A rather large one too, vibrant as well. Children played outside in the open, men and women walked about, carrying baskets of supplies or working a craft or trade. Many stopped what they were doing to gawk at Albrecht. The dutch seaman had long hair and a thickening beard, his clothes were crusty with salt and sand, and he carried with him an assortment items that to him were normal, but these natives found found in them a similar curiosity in the baubles and trinkets, brought off from far away lands, that had once enticed Albrecht to join his expedition in the first place. He was brought to an empty hut, where he was presented with numerous baskets of food, primarily seeds, fruit, and fish. Though there were the additions of different meats, and what he could have sworn were coffee beans, and of course fresh drinking water in cups fashioned from small tree trunks.
As the sun began to set, he held the cross adorning his neck in his hands, kneeling on the ground in silence. His prayer was interrupted by the sounds of a sick woman, moaning in a nearby hut. Through a small opening that acted as a window, he could see candle light illuminating the hut, just enough that he could make out a female figure laying on a raised mound of dirt, which Albrecht presumed to be a table. Her stomach appeared to be round, and bloated, as though she had been stuffed. Her moaning continued, and a man’s silhouette came into view. He loomed over her silhouette for nearly an hour. His hands slowly reached over towards where her neck lay. Albrecht found himself entranced by what he was perceiving, and noticed the sudden jerking of the woman’s body, her body convulsing until finally stopping with a shudder. The man held her here for a moment, and then released her neck from his grasp. He then stood there in silence, staring at the body. Finally the silence and stillness was broken. He began wailing on the corpse, beating the body down. Albrecht began clutching his cross tightly as he watched the man pound the dead woman. He finally stopped beating, but much to Albrecht’s dismay the display did not cease. The woman suddenly started howling, the man disappeared, and then returned again, and began beating her gut with a club, whilst she howled like an unholy demon. It was not the sound of pain that Albrecht heard, it was the sound of Hell.
He fell away from the window and pushed himself into a corner holding his cross so tightly in his hand red droplets began to fall to the dirt from his clenched fist. His breathing began increasing steadily, he clutched himself tightly, leaning against the wall directly opposite of the window. He clenched his eyes tightly closed, gripping his head with his left hand praying for the infernal howling to stop. He couldn’t remain there, the howling was too much, he needed to go, he needed to escape, he needed to get out. He jumped up and burst out of his hut, running at full sprint down the same path he came up. He couldn’t hear anything over the howling, it seemed to follow him down the path. He looked over his shoulder for a second, seeing men behind him, chasing him. He pushed to run faster, to escape to the boat, to flee the island. The lifeboat was still there, he could see it, he could reach the edge of the forest. In the darkness he tripped on a root and tumbled out of the forest onto the sand. He glanced behind himself and saw the figures approaching. The howling still rang in his head and he scrambled in the sand to reach the boat and push it out. He rammed into the lifeboat, pushing it as hard as he could off the beach and into the water, the howling followed still as he clambered into the boat and pulled out his paddle plank, but his pursuers did not relent. They too reached the boat, tugging on it and pulling it back towards the shore against the current. A crack of lightning illuminated the beach, and in the split second Albrecht brought his paddle down on the head of one of the men trying to pull him back. The the crack of the board hitting his skull was barely audible over the thunder that followed the lightning flash. The other men were startled by the action and jumped back to help their fellow, now under the water. Albrecht watched them pull the injured man out of the water and onto shore, and a grin from ear to ear sprung onto his face, he laughed, he had escaped. The howling had finally left his mind, nearly an hour after it had stopped being audible, and he could now hear everything around him. He could now hear the storm pulling him quickly out to sea, he could hear the thunder over head, he could hear the drizzling drops of water cascade into a downpour. His mind was free to take note of the boat being rocked far more violently now as he is pulled further and further out at an alarming pace. The boat raises up and down with the turbulent seas. The boat then began to lean off to the side ever so slightly. Just enough so for Albrecht to notice the change, to notice the movements, to panic. The boat capsized and he splashed into the water. He resurfaced to gasp for breath, and found himself in the middle of the ocean, nearly half a mile out at sea, and that distance steadily growing. The thunder roared over head, as the dark waters churned, and tossed him about. He shouted for help, help from what even he didn’t quite fully know. It was simply the only thing he had left as his energy suddenly dissipated and he felt himself weaken, felt himself struggle to stay above the water. Albrecht was swallowed whole by those dark, malignant waters, crying out for help, howling in the night, for no one to answer.