Stowaway On The Titanic
An Unheard Tale Of The Ship Of Dreams
Like anchors, my feet weighed me down. They weren’t moving. My brain screamed, but nothing. Kick your feet! Why aren’t you kicking your feet? Nothing happened. My body wasn’t listening to my brain as I slipped deeper and deeper into the cold abyss of the ocean. What happened?
Confusion was all I could feel, confusion and cold, as the freezing waters sent pins and needles burning through my body. Hot…no, it can’t be. The sensation felt like being on fire, having my entire body seared. The darkness consumed me. It wrapped around me, a companion blanket to the cold harshness of the icy waters.
I felt my fingers as they started to cramp. They were heavy like anvils at the end of my hands. Struggling, I tried to pull them toward me without knowing why. Kick, dammit, kick your feet. I was yelling at myself, an internal monologue trying to wake me up, to get me to react to the inevitable doom that awaited me below. What the hell happened?
The lights were dimming. I could barely see them. What was I seeing? Hundreds of legs in the water above me.
I tried to reach for them, each being long past my grasp. The cold made every movement hurt more and more. My body felt on fire. Soon, death would come for me.
