Shark

I remember that frightful day all too well. Where it all began. The storm was said to roll in that night bringing choppy waves and high unimaginable winds with it. Folks were warned to stay off the water. No fishing, no playing, no swimming, and especially no shark hunting. Not in these waters. To do so would be stupid. Playing with the devil himself we would say to each other. For the most part everybody stayed inside. No one wanted to do the tango. They had nothing to prove. There was a man, a boy more or less who had forced himself to believe that he did have something to prove. Not only to himself but to his dad too. He was in a storm but no physical storm. Outcasted and told he would amount to nothing he had everything to prove. You see his dad was a fisherman and a good one at it. He would spend long days and sometimes nights out on the water providing the food and money for the family survival. While the rest of his kids were following in their father's footsteps and keeping the family tradition going this boy wanted to make his own traditions. Surf his own waves. He was smart. As smart as they come but he wanted nothing to do with fishing so his father wanted nothing to do with him. So on that fateful night with father and son torn as the veil there was only one thing left that he could do to mend the bond. He was going fishing. With his dad's boat but not his permission he set sail. The dawn of the dark night was coming upon and a yawn was heard coming from below deck. He had hit something that felt warm and alive. He had to investigate. He looked closer at what he hit then its big eyes opened. It was his sister. How had she gotten on the boat? Too late now. He just had to go with it.

"Am I dreaming this or are you actually here?" He had said to me.

I had no time to get in a response before the waves picked up and the boat tossed to and fro.

"I am not a dream and neither is that," I had said as a huge wave came over our boat and we're hit head-on.

I still stood on the deck but my brother was nowhere to be found. He had not stood his ground. The waves had hit him and smacked him backward flying into the mast breaking it from its post and the flag flew away. Blood started to pour out of his right leg and in my tired wakey state I did my best to bandage up his injured leg. I worked as fast as I could wringing blood out of the rag over the side of the boat but the storm had hit. It touched down a few clicks away from us and picked upwind fast. The storm and waves got stronger, choppier, and mightier in size compared to our small two-man boat.

I cleaned up all the blood and wrung the last of the blood over the side when I saw a red light in the storm. A boat! I couldn't believe it. I waved my hands madly and hit my brother with my legs trying to wake him and keep his eyes open but the boat didn't move. It actually looked to be moving farther away from us then closer. The boat wasn't the only thing that was in the mighty waves. Our boat felt a thud to the side and we were off-balanced sliding into the abyss at a rapid pace. The next few moments passed by faster then the eye could blink. I first-hand saw the teeth of sharks and knew I had to get out of there. I don't want to relay the events that happened next but the last thing I do remember seeing is all the sharks jumping on one spot in the water and I knew. My brother was dead. Blood came to the surface and flowed out on all sides of the waters. That's when I swam as fast as I could with the water helping me drown out the tears for my big brother.

LAND

I swam and swam finally finding land. I had no shoes, my clothes were dirty, mucky, torn and bloody. My face was unrecognizable and hands as dark as soot, thinner than toothpicks and numb from swimming. I couldn't let that stop me. Not after all that I've been through. Not here! Not now! I needed to find a house, a place for refuge. Something like a...........farmhouse! Is that r? It can't be in my head. It has to be real. It just has to be. Although worn down and looked like it could fall over at the slightest kick I had to try. I crawled and crawled my feet and hands like dogs, touching who knows what on the ground.

I got within the outer fields of the house barely being able to see into the top window when my foot hit a rock and my dry blood resubmerged. I was worn out. The last ounce of energy had left my body. I couldn't move my arms or legs but I could move my mouth which I did just then. I screamed help over and over until my lungs couldn't take it anymore and water spurred back up then I blacked out and remembered nothing.

SPY

Years have passed and the family from the farm has treated me quite well. Actually like their own daughter. I have also grown really attached to their son. He's just my age, a bit taller, clean shaven face, and sturdy built. Today is our first date together. His parents approved. We are going to the Nighthawk in Philly about to get some milkshakes which I love by the way when we are stopped by the bartender. He wanted to know if he has seen me before. I abruptly said no but he went on to think and stare at me anyways. He thought for a few minutes then he spoke again informing me that he had seen me before in the newspaper. The story with the sharkboy. I immediately had a puzzled look on my face but then he said my brothers name; Michael.

That one word had got me thinking. The only way people would know about us is if someone had been there that night following us and taking pictures of us. There were no other boats out that night I had thought. The rescue boat I said letting my eyes wander the restaurant and resting on a man in a long suit jacket and hood writing down something.

My instincts kicked in.

"Hey you. What do you know about this. Why were you in that boat that night watching us and filming us. We almost died and all you did was let us," I had said angrily and shouted at him while my boyfriend held me back.

The bartender looked confused at me and wanted me to settle down but I didn't want to. The mystery man was looking rather calm. Too calm for me. He didn't even look up or stop writing. I knew something was up.

My boyfriend tried to calm me down but I knew that this guy knew more than he should about us and I was going to get to the bottom of this even if it meant we had to fight. I was willing.

"Why were you there? What, all you care about is saving your own butt but can't even lend a helping hand when it is needed."

"Your dad," he had said after all was quiet and I had settled down. He's been cheating fish his whole life and cutting corners. I wanted to catch him in the act so I could finally take him down."

"You're lying. My dad would never cut corners. Let me at em," I said breaking my boyfriends hold and advanced quickly towards the man throwing a weak punch which he blocked but he still felt the blow.

We heard the bartender beam in and stop us. "Whatever this is? Take it outside."

Michael

France, Europe 1889. Population 383,700. Steam Cars ruled the streets and the sun from above. Clouds were scarce out today but the wind was not. Birds flew freely above the city and it was not uncommon to see one on the street. The wind chipped and shook even heavy blankets and clothes. The midnight air was rather solemn but the faces of the people were even worse. Below the starry skies a funeral for Michael was held which I just got back from. Far and wide people came from youndere but no one came farther than I. Unrecognizable with tears and my clothes were starting to get soggy. The speech tonight was dreary and teary and not a stir from the crowd. It seemed like not only Michael was dead tonight but so was everybody else. End of Diary. With love. Your sis.

RELICS

Deep into the desert of beyond a man lay on his satchel with banjo beside him. These relics he had obtained over the years doing various things. Things most could only dream of, With these relics, he could see what went on in his vast world. Today his camel had woken him up to a strange glow that was emitting from his bag. The gypsi opened his bag and took out his crystal orb that was now glowing brightly making him have to squint and blink his eyes to see it. It started to take the form of a picture and what it showed was a series of drastic events. First a lake of sharks and a man getting swallowed down the gullet. Then the picture faded and showed a farmhouse and a beat up stripped girl laying on the ground with arms raised towards the house calling for help. The gypsi started getting puzzled when the picture faded again and showed a coffee shop and a guy and a girl going at the door. The girl was the same from the last picture but the man he did not know. The picture then turned to a solemn downtown Philadelphia and a crowd was walking the streets head low with a casket carried in the middle. The gypsy thought the pictures were finally over and he could get his sleep but that was not the case. The next picture slowly came in forming a picture of a man and a girl. The same girl from the other pictures. It looked like her dad but what happened next was the dad slapped the girl and said one word. WHY?! The gypsy knew that the last picture was always a future telling and what he could induce about the slideshow that he saw he concluded that the boy and the girl snuck out of the house on their dad's boat without his advising. Then both of them were attacked by sharks, fell into the water and the boy was fish food the moment the sharks smelt his blood while the girl barely swam her way to safety where she was able to get the attention of the family at the farm. Then years later, he didn't know what to think of the coffee shop picture, The next one was easy. Her brother's funeral and the last one she maybe confronted her father and he was mad that she let her brother die and was taking all his force out on her. This one he had to fix. He saddled his camel, gathered his things, picked up his special banjo, and set off.