*A picture is worth a thousand words. In this creative writing series, I write a short story in a thousand words using famous artwork housed in art galleries as inspiration. These short stories are not in affiliation with the galleries or artists mentioned. This work is fictional with no resemblance to real world events, people or places. Names, places, events and incidents are the product of imagination and used fictitiously.*
Inspiration: A shipwreck in stormy seas, 1773 by artist Claude-Joseph Vernet on display at the National Gallery, London.
Available at: https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/NG6601
What lurks beneath the stormy skies?
The sky fills with grey unforgiving clouds as the rays of sun battle with the darkening sky for dominance. The raging waves crash against the jagged and threatening rocks as the sailors struggle to make salvation at shore. The sand claws around their feet with every step pulling them deeper into the underworld of the seabed.
“Captain, we need to find higher ground…the tide will pull us back if we stay close to the shore…” the man’s words become inaudible as waves with icy, cold water submerge his body before releasing him back again to the shore, gasping for breath.
Another man yelps in agony as his leg catches on the jagged edge of the rocks as he climbs onto the farthest rock from shore. Another fellow crewmember joins him, heaving his battle worn body across wet, slimy rocks. Both men breath heavy as rain continues to bombard relentlessly against their bodies.
“Roger, we can’t stay here – we’ll drown” the man opposite him winces as he looks down at his bruised and bloody leg.
“I can’t move, not with this…thing!” The injured man glares at his leg with frustration. The agony it causes claws its way up his leg as laboured breaths tighten his chest.
“Come on mate, I’ll carry you if I have to, but I’m not leaving you here for an appetiser for the demons of the sea” concern echoes in his voice, his face becoming showered with salt spray as the wind whipped at his weather-worn face. He reaches a scarred hand toward his friend and crewmember.
…
Across the shore, a woman dressed in clothes clearly not appropriate for life at sea or even a fashionable dinner party falls dramatically and ungracefully off one of the rocks. The woman falls with her pink dress and accessories cascading behind her. She lands with a thump into the water, screaming “Jacob!”
“Majorie!” a man, Jacob, drops to his knees on the rock she just exited. He peers into the water searching for a sign of her pink silhouette. Panic tears at his chest, Jacob recites a small prayer and dives frantically into the swirling water. As he swims, the saltwater burn his eyes, pressuring him to close them. The water looks clear on the surface but once under, the darkness encroaches like a silent assassin confusing the senses. The current swirls absentmindedly pulling the water and the detritus with it and then spitting what it doesn’t like back out again. Jacob’s chest tightens with the cold water seeping into his body, his hands and fingers becoming uncoordinated, his cheeks bursting as he holds in oxygen. His frantic swimming slows. He squints and his eyes dart from shadow to shadow hoping to catch a glimpse of Majorie’s garish figure. Where is she? We can’t be that far from the shore? Jacob silently questions his wife’s choice of clothing once again, Why take the most unpractical gown on a voyage?!
A rush of cold water washed over his body. The chill of danger choked at his eyes as he sees a dark figure crawl close to him. A large and ancient-looking kraken engulfs the space around him. In a flash of pink he sees Majorie, bashing the beast with her matching pink embroidered handbag, grunting in annoyance. When the handbag doesn’t do the trick, she starts wagging her finger in a menacing tone, grunting something that Jacob only assumed meant How rude, I am a lady of high society, not fish food! Imagine what the lady’s at lunch will say.
Neither kraken nor Majorie had noticed Jacob’s sudden arrival. Beast and woman were staring at each other in a battle of will. The kraken wondering if the pink, angry lady would cause indigestion or her acidic personality might make a delightful palette cleanser. Slowly, Jacob treads water and grabs a small knife attached to his belt. He watches the scene unfolds and strikes.
A blur of pink, slashes and punches. Majorie is free, as her and Jacob start swimming away she stops, turns and with one final look of authority slaps the kraken in the face with her pink handbag. Jacob rolls his eyes. They swim to the surface as the pressure breaks they gasp as the unsettled air hits their lungs. The shore moves calmly in the distance, but the current pulls at Jacob’s waist. He grabs Majorie and struggles to the shore. Majorie resists the urge to help her husband and floats as if it’s a sunny day paddling, not a near-death experience.
Jacob and Majorie drag themselves to the sandy salvation of the shore. Jacob breathes heavily, his heart thumping with exertion. Around him the waves crash against the rocks, he see his fellow crewmembers fighting for survival. Majorie stands and looks at Jacob with an incredulous look – “I could have handled the situation, I am trained in the noble art of Karate” and with a look of disdain, huffs and walks unsteadily away tottering into the distance.
…
In the distance, the ship they voyaged in collapses with the weight of the waves. The sky becomes dark and foreboding with lightning scarring the sky. The ship’s masts scream under the pressure of the water and finally tumble into the churning depths of the unknown. All hope is suffocated out of the world, the water moves with shadows of unspeakable monstrosities. The surviving crew struggle to make their way to the shore, hoping their ordeal is over – it is far from over.
The sea begins to whirl and open up as sea monsters, that are never written or illustrated in books, reared and wailed. The noise is deafening, yet intoxicating and transfixes the eyes of the crew. The surviving men and Majorie stand motionless as their ship sinks, and with it any chance of escape. They are far from home on an island that no map has ever mentioned. The air electrified with danger whips like claws on the shore, begging for a fight. Who will win?
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