Once Upon a Time...Felarya

Alright! This thread will be the one where I'll post my ongoing serie called "Once Upon a Time...Felarya"

It will be a long serie, comparable to French-Snack's "Lost in Felarya" or WowandWas' "Jungle Bowl"

I intend it to be more than 10 chapters long. As for the maximum, I seriously have no idea When my inspiration will be off, this serie will be concluded

I'll post links to the stories that are on my DeviantArt as well as posting them entirely as simple replies to this thread

Reading these stories and commenting them is the least I am asking you to do. As we all know, critiques is always the best way to go forward. That is, if the critique isn't only bashing

Once Upon a Time...Felarya

Chapter One: Welcome to the Adventure

Chapter Two: The Arrival

New York City, June 1933


The light coming out of the large double-door vanished suddenly as the door closed with a bang, the loud sound triggered by an excess of rage and frustration. The room was very large, with suspended ceiling lanterns that lit up in different shades of white. White motes of dust danced in the light, disturbed from their laziness by the shock of the doors slamming shut. To the left of the doors, the scene was illuminated by a ridiculously large, single spotlight - a spotlight that was currently lighting up only a bare floor. Beyond that, facing the huge stage, was a wooden table big enough for five people. Around the table sat four people, all very different in appearance – two men and two women. The whole group emanated a powerful sense of impatience and boredom.

"What are we going to do, now?" asked one of the women in the group - a middle-aged brunette. She was dressed in a very classy outfit and reeked of perfume. Her gaze rolled across each of her companions, as if daring them to respond.

"What do you mean?" demanded the second woman in the group, much younger, and dressed far more casually. She vainly shoved an errant strand of hair behind her left ear.

"Well, she was the last one on the list, and there's no one else!" the first woman replied angrily.

A tuxedoed man in his thirties quickly said, "Calm down, calm down." Flattening the crumpled roll of paper before him on the table, he pointed to the small list of names. "We still have..."

"Yes, what? What do we have? Remind me where that young woman who just stormed out came from? Oh, there's no need to tell me, I'll do it for you: from a damn strip club, one of the seediest in New York. Not even a starving rat would rummage through that filthy place's garbage!"

Flustered by the interruption, the man tried to continue. "I was about to say..."

"I don't care anymore. If that last floozy was any indication, I can only imagine how far down the barrel you've scraped the rest on that list from."

Trying to salvage the situation, the man said, "You need to understand that I have very specific needs for this role. It's too important to simply judge by acting ability. She has to look and feel the part. She has to live the part. She has to be the part."

The woman waved her hand dismissively. "I knew this movie was a pure waste of time. Why did I accept this job? It was clear right from the start that we'd never make it to production. We can't even make it through casting, for crying out loud! You've gone off the deep end."

"Yes, but you still saw a chance of success, if I'm right. Yes?" said the last person sitting at the table. He was dressed simply, and his demeanor was upbeat, even hopeful.

"Hey, no one spoke to you," she said as she suddenly stood up. "You're only here because you follow Jim everywhere like some lost puppy dog."

"What are you doing?" asked the man in tuxedo.

"I'm resigning, that's what I'm doing. And don't you dare come crying at my feet later, it won't work. I'm sick of this. And let me point out that I'm still awaiting that check you promised me."

"I told you that I was waiting for a loan from the bank for-"

"Peuh! Which bank? You mean those mafia men I saw the other day?"

"I don't know what you're talking abou-" the man attempted to reply. His confidence seemed to waver at the woman's words.

"Don't take me for an idiot. I have eyes and ears, you know?" she said, taking her purse. "You're risking jail or worse, you know that? Those types won't accept failure. Anyway... I'll leave you all to continue along with this disaster. Good bye and good luck, Jim. You're going to need it."

With that, she stood and walked smartly to the doors, slamming them shut behind her. A fresh batch of dust was jolted into the air.

Silence crept between Jim and his two remaining colleagues.

Jim Malcolm was a filmmaker. He had, throughout his career, come up with many brilliant film ideas. The movie companies were delighted by his originality and enthusiasm. His plans were grandiose endeavors that sparked the imagination of all those who had seen them. His first few films were major successes. Money poured in from all over. Production companies were literally falling over one another to land one of his blockbusters.

And then something happened. He grew unsatisfied with sticking to a plan all the way through production. He began to tinker with his ideas. During filming, he would see something or hear something and suddenly request changes in how scenes were to unfold. Whole sections of the script would be rewritten on the spot. The actors and production staff were left scrambling to catch up. Often the film ended up being nothing like his original vision. And the result was nearly always a disaster.

The companies who backed him lost large sums of money. Jim himself had very little money and thus relied on others for financing. But expensive films, especially those that bombed at the box office, were not acceptable. The same companies that had referred to him as an eccentric genius now called him a washed-up has-been. None of them would allow him near their studios. Actors avoided him like the plague, fearing any association with him would taint their careers.

His fame, that he wanted more than anything in the world, one that would open the doors of Hollywood to him, had become that of a complete loser. He could not find a single company that was interested in his movies anymore. People he had known for years shunned him as if he was some kind of leper.

So with his faithful friend, Charlie, he had unsuccessfully tried to find backing for a new movie that would change the face of moviemaking around the globe. It was to be a movie with no special effects - where everything was completely real. He had found a wilderness area in South America, where an isolated native tribe performed certain ceremonies still. The place was not very hospitable for outsiders. And there were rumors that the ceremonies being performed included human sacrifices.

Jim knew exactly where everything was happening and when. He had detailed maps and a journal from someone who had supposedly gone there. It was going to be spectacular. Nothing else would ever compare to this. So he had done the only thing he could think to do: he had gone to the only remaining source of money in town. He had been so sure no one knew and yet everyone at the table with him seemed to have discovered the secret of his financing. Still, he had taken the money and could not back out now.

He had his film set. He had his script. He had a support staff and film crew ready to go. All he needed was the American actors who would play the heroes by rescuing a beautiful damsel. And he needed the damsel too...

The auditions had not gone as planned. Despite extremely generous salary offers, Jim could not fill the lead roles. The only actors who had bothered to show up were unknowns with little to no movie experience. He used the best of those for the lesser roles. But what Jim really wanted was familiar faces - famous faces - because he was relying on the popularity of actors to sell his film.

He had just sent home the last actress who was trying out for the female lead. His most important partner had abandoned him. And doubt was hanging over whether or not she was going to the police. He turned to his remaining female partner.

"What are you waiting for, Rose? You know where the door is."

"Why would I go? I like this movie project and I still think it has a chance of success," she said with a confident smile.

"But, you heard her, right? It's possible that the money I have could be... illegal."

"So what? You had to find money, no? Besides, I already knew that you were dipping into things that weren't exactly above the table. I did my research. Even if they do come after you, they couldn't touch me. I'll simply deny knowing anything."

"What...? How have you... You knew I'd done business with...?"

"Oh, of course. In terms of discretion, you do quite poorly, you know? I knew it wasn't studio money. For one thing, there was a sheet of paper sticking out of your bag yesterday. I wanted to just shove it back in, but curiosity got the best of me so I read it. You'd listed a bunch of names and numbers - all the people who'd lent you money. I recognized quite a few names. Not the kind of people you want to cross." She smiled at him and gave a little laugh. "Poor Jim. You shouldn't write things like that down."

"And you're sure you want to stay?" he asked in surprise.

"Yep!"

"What about you, Charlie?" he said, turning to his assistant.

"Bah... at this point, let's just get over it and finish your movie. We're only missing the lead actors and a couple minor roles. I've worked with you for a long time now Jim, and, to be honest, I like your work. I'm with you, buddy... 'til the bitter end!"

Jim smiled. The world was not completely filled with unscrupulous people. He still had a few friends. Smiling good naturedly, he thanked both of them, exhorting them to do their best to find some good actors. After they left, Jim sat in silence while he thought about who might be willing and able to take on the lead female role. It had to be someone special.




"You asked for me, mister Giovanni?" asked the young man, entering the small room and sitting down in a rather comfortable looking chair before the large, ornate desk.

The large man sitting behind the desk smiled as he pulled a cigar from the drawer next to his knee. "Yes, Antonio. As I recall, you are aware of the Malcolm case?" he said, lighting his cigar. Taking a few puffs, he added, "You want one?"

"No thank you, sir. Yes, indeed, I have read the accounts and I am following this case carefully. From what I know, it's a very sad case indeed. He hasn't made a decent movie in ages."

"Precisely. I am weighing the pros and cons of what I should do to this Malcolm, should he fail. And who knows, a miracle might happen. If the movie turns out as good as he claims, we'll make our money back several times over. But I want to make sure our interests are being looked after. So I want you to infiltrate his crew to really see what happens. Do not tell him that you work for me. Got it?"

Antonio sighed. He was tired of always going into the field for small things. He wanted to do something big and glamorous. Something that would give him a good reputation. Something that would let him earn a high position within the organization. This Malcolm was a nobody - a failure with one too many bad movies under his belt. And sitting around watching egotistical actors flounce about while some eccentric director made a fool of himself was not his idea of excitement.

Giovanni noticed his frustration. He stood and walked slowly around the desk. Stepping up to Antonio, who was still seated, Giovanni gave him a few pats on the cheek. "You are faithful, Antonio. I know I can count on you. Do what you gotta do, and after this, what would you say about finding you a more suitable position within the familia, eh? One with a little more responsibility... and reward."

Joy lit up Antonio's face.

"Thanks, boss! You're the best," Antonio said, shaking Giovanni's hand, not wanting to let it go.

"Ha ha ha," laughed Giovanni, slowly pulling his hand back. "Go on now, before I change my mind."

"Of course, boss. You won't be disappointed, I promise. Thank you again!"

Antonio stood and quickly left the room. He put his hand on his pistol in his pocket and, reassured by its presence, left the place, thinking how he would accomplish his task. He knew nothing at all about cinema!




"Amanda! Peter! Come see your father, hurry!"

The man closed the door of the house behind him and deposited his case on the floor. He barely had time to remove his shoes before his children, a boy of eight years and a girl of fourteen, rushed to greet him, jumping into his arms.

"You brought us a gift, dad?" asked the boy.

"Is it the doll that I asked for?" added the girl.

"Is it a ray gun!?"

"Make up?"

"Candies?"

"Pencils for my drawings?"

"Is it cool?"

"Ha ha ha, calm down kids, calm down," he said, gently letting them down. "Who said it was for you?"

The boy and the girl looked offended.

"I did my bed."

"I cleaned my bedroom."

"I washed the dishes."

"I helped mommy with dinner!"

"I helped washed our clothes!"

"Yes, yes that's all good," their father said with a wide grin. "But both of you are forgetting something extremely important."

"Oh?" said the boy.

"What is it?" asked the girl.

"You haven't said you loved me!" he answered, laughing.

"We love you daddy!" the two kids let out, hugging him fiercly.

"I love you two too. Now where is your mother? The gift I have is also for her."

"In the kitchen making food," the girl answered. "I was helping her."

The boy muttered under his breath, "Making a mess isn't helping."

The father walked to the kitchen where the smell of the sauce tickled his nostrils while the children made faces at one another. In front of the oven, a charming young woman wearing an apron was busy trying to finish preparing dinner. The husband took her by the waist and kissed her neck. He whispered sweet words in her ear. The woman smiled and turned, her wide eyes making him shiver with desire.

"So I get to have a gift too?" she innocently asked.

He tenderly kissed his wife on her lips. Between two kisses, he said, "It depends. Have you been a good girl?"

"Mmmh... I've been a really bad girl," she said, sliding her hand along his torso. They laughed together in happiness before kissing once more.

"I guess bad girls can have gifts too," he said. "Alright, come see. You'll love this." Taking her hand, he pulled her over to the table, seating her in one of the empty chairs. "Amanda and Peter, come sit down, quick!"

When the whole family was at the table, the father took from his jacket an envelope. Puzzled expressions took over as they looked at the mysterious envelope. All of them were wondering what it could be.

The suspense did not last long as the father pulled out four identical pieces of paper from the envelope and showed them. The mother reacted first.

"Oh! Georges!"

"What, mommy? What is it?" asked both children at practically the same time. They were excited, despite having no idea what the big deal was.

"Kids... your father is taking us on a trip to South America!"

"Seriously!?" asked Amanda.

"Seriously Amanda," said the father. "I had a little promotion at my job," he explained. "After helping my boss make several thousands of dollars in profit over the last quarter, well, he decided to reward me - with a round-trip voyage to South America! I told him Sharon and I hadn't had a vacation in ages and so he gave us this. Everything is included: the ship, hostel, guides, meals... everything!"

"Daddy, you're the best!" exclaimed Peter.

"Can we buy a monkey there? " Amanda asked.

Georges laughed and said, "Let's wait until we're there first, darling."

Sharon's eyes were misty with emotion as she held her ticket in one hand and gazed with adoration at her husband. "It really will be quite a trip," she said.

She had no idea how true her words were.




Marilyn looked despondently up at the bleak sky. Would she ever have a normal life? Living in the streets was barely living at all. Far from it. It was... appalling. Nothing pleased her what about what she was doing. And her customers made the situation worse. Every one of them was dirty, rude, boorish... and those were the tolerable ones. Marilyn dreamed of one day having children, a happy family with the best husband in the world who would fill her with happiness and love. However, she saw every day this dream slipping between her fingers while she fell deeper and deeper into despair.

The life of a prostitute was hard, draining, and dangerous. She had already seen too many girls in the business wind up with drug additions, diseases, or worse. Those who fell too far lost customers and once that happened... it was best not to think of such things. There was no such thing as a happily ever after for prostitutes.

Wrapped in her long coat made of fake fur, she walked away from the other girls who were clustered in a small group at the corner of a popular hooker street. They were busy talking to each other about tricks they had turned and juicy gossip about a recent drug bust that had come down on one of the local pimps. Marilyn did not care to hear the banter. It was always the same. The others used their cute nicknames, never their real names: Suck-Candy, Molly Bold, Lucky Lips, Gummy Bear, and so forth. Marilyn... she was just Marilyn. She had no desire to be labeled by one of her johns. Or by her competition. She considered it demeaning. Looking down at her cheap watch, she noted the time was just past three in the morning. She sighed. At least, no one came to bother her here. Her boss would not be happy, but she knew how to deal with him.

Blonde with blue eyes, Marilyn had a beautiful tanned body, with a pair of divine legs. All of her customers wanted to see her legs. Her boss often forced her to wear short skirts in the hopes of attracting more and more interested customers who would pay more and more for her services. The demand from white-collar workers for Marilyn was very high. She was quite well known in certain circles. And she knew her price was always being negotiated higher and higher by her boss. The only problem was, she never saw any of that money. All she was to them was a commodity, a price tag on legs.

That money resulted in jealousy from the other girls. They saw her being treated like a queen by moneyed johns and hated it - despite the fact that she was really no better off than they were. Money did not make the men any more courteous, kind, or caring. In her experience, the rich were just as crude as the poor, and in some cases even more so. That did not matter to the other prostitutes. And so some of the more vocal ones set out to ruin her.

One day, while she was walking to her boss' apartment, she was mugged by several masked men. They not only took what few valuables she had, they also shoved her down a stairwell before running off into the night. The fall broke her leg. The pain she felt was nothing compared to the utter despair when she thought her only source of income was gone. Her body was her source of income. Who among her regulars would pay to have sex with a cripple?

Fortunately for her, her boss had not wished to lose such a lucrative income and so had paid for her to not only be hospitalized, but also tended to by one of the best physical therapists in town. He made it out to be a generous gesture and Marilyn accepted it. She knew it was strictly a business decision on his part. Later, she was told that the girls responsible had been beaten terribly to show them the error of their ways. They had pooled money to hire the thugs who broke her leg. That did not go over well with her boss. Marilyn remembered seeing their haunted, scared faces when she had returned to work. She did not want to know what they had been through, and none of them ever bothered her again.

Marilyn had been a prostitute for more than four years. For most of that time, the street had been her home. When she started, she was only sixteen years old. She had accumulated experience very quickly. One had to, in order to survive.

Something suddenly brought her back to reality - a man was grabbing her shoulder. She jumped in surprise. "Hands off me, bub!"

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you, miss."

Marilyn shook her head and looked at the person who had just touched her. He was clean-shaven, well dressed, and he did not look like he belonged on this side town.

"It's alright. I was... What do you want?" Marilyn already knew what the guy wanted. She felt disappointed that she had been outed so easily. Granted, the way she was dressed and the fact that she was on a street well known for prostitutes made it easy to figure out what she was... still, it would have been nice just once to be wrong.

"Well I would like ehm... how to start..."

"Yes?" She was not about to offer her services first. She had seen girls just starting out get nabbed by undercover cops by falling into that trap. This guy did not look like a police officer, but one could never be too sure about such things.

"I'm just wondering if you'd be interested in playing a role for me?"

The hopeful expression on his face disgusted Marilyn. It figured she would be accosted by some kinky pervert who liked playing games during sex. "It's twenty dollars per hour for a maximum of three hours. I don't do all nighters. And I'll be the judge on price if you want extra services."

"P-pardon me?"

"I am not changing the prices, mister. Take it or leave it. So, are you interested: yes or no?"

"But what are you talking about, miss?"

Marilyn had never seen such politeness coming out of one of her potential customers. But being so shy, the man was wasting her time. She was fairly certain he had not had much experience with prostitutes. The way he carried himself was all wrong.

"Listen to me very carefully. Decide quick or I'll decide myself. You look cute and clean and all, but I don't like people who waste my time. You want to have sex: yes or no?"

The man seemed to be taken aback by her bluntness. "I euh... I'm sorry, young lady, but I think you misunderstand me. I'm not here to ask you for sexual services. I'm here for..."

Marilyn snorted. "Then we have nothing further to discuss. Bye."

Marilyn took a firm grip on her purse and began to walk away. The man reached out to grasp her arm, trying to prevent her from leaving.

"Please ma'am! I'm desperate. Just listen to what I have to say."

"You'd better let go of me before I yell for help." Her icy flat tone seemed to do the track and the man quickly pulled his hand back.

"Sorry. Can you listen to what I have to say before? You'll be free to leave after. I'll even give you ten dollars right here and now if you'll just listen."

Marilyn crossed her arms. "Let me see the money." The man fumbled briefly in his pocket. He handed her a crumpled ten-dollar bill. "Fine, you have two minutes. Go."

"Ok... well, first of all, my name is Jim. Jim Malcolm. I'm a filmmaker and I'm looking for an actress to play in my upcoming movie. During our auditions, none of the potential candidates have satisfied me. So, I began searching for an actress on my own - all over New York, in fact - one that would perfectly fit in the role. I've been practically everywhere! I was about to drop the whole thing as a lost cause when I saw you. You seemed so desperate, so sad, so... unfortunate. All those emotions filling your heart were plainly visible on your face and that immediately convinced me - you are the one I was looking all this time. So I guess the real question is: would you like to play in my movie?"

Marilyn's reply was stinging and dry. "I have to refuse, Mister Malcolm. You see, I'm a prostitute. Maybe you don't realize it, but I am kind of bound to my boss. Even if I wanted it, he would never accept it if I were to go play around in a movie while I'm supposed to earning him money. So, sorry again, but it's no. Best of luck in your search and farewell."

Marilyn turned quickly and began to walk down the street. Jim was at the edge of despair. This was the woman he wanted. She was perfect. Since the first glance of her silhouette, he knew she would bring so much intensity to his movie. Her face, the way she carried herself, her legs, her attitude - it was all perfect. He absolutely could not let her go.

"Please! Wait! I... I... y-you'll play with the great Richard Harrison, a famous actor! The... the salary is going to be several hundred dollars per day and the filming will be in South America, Brazil and..."

Marilyn stopped suddenly when Jim mentioned Brazil. Seeing this, Jim decided to play it up to see if he could entice her.

"Yes... the film is set under the warm sun of Brazil. We'll be filing in the beautiful Amazonian forest, with humongous beaches, soft sand, exotic flowers... aren't you the least tempted by such a wonderful adventure? It's a unique chance I'm offering to you, a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

South America intrigued Marilyn, not because it was an exotic location, but because it was some place far, far away from New York. She could do the movie, take the trip to South America, and remain there with her earnings. Her boss would never attempt to retrieve her. It might be her only chance to get out of the hell she was in. She turned around and walked back to Jim with a completely changed face. She had now a much more pleasant expression. "Brazil, you said?"

"Exactly."

"This isn't some kind of a sick joke?"

"I would never dare."

"Alright. Fine. I accept. But here are my conditions: I will sleep at your house until we leave for Brazil. We'll walk to your car like you've just agreed to my price. I don't want to arouse any suspicions. Now put your hand here," she grabbed Jim's hand and placed it firmly against her buttocks, "and pretend you've just touched the goddess of your dreams. Also, about the salary, I want to be paid one thousand dollars per day of filming. I do not want anyone touching me or propositioning me for sexual favors. I want to be treated with respect. It's that or nothing."

"Deal accepted!" Jim said with a big smile on his face. He presented his free hand for a shake, but she deftly pulled it down to her hip.

Turning, she slinkily leaned in to him as if she were about to give him a peck on the cheek. "We'll do the handshake later. Now, drive me to your house." Before he could respond, she gave him a long, deep kiss. She put her considerable charm to work, hoping her show would fool the other prostitutes. She knew they would rat her out the instant her boss realized she was gone. If only she could be there to see his face when it happened.

Jim was in heaven, and not only because of the unbelievable kiss he had just received. He had her, he had his perfect lead actress! All he needed now was to get the contractors to move the equipment to the boat he had already chartered. The sooner they began the trip, the sooner he could begin filming his masterpiece. He would have his epic movie.




A few days later...


Captain Jack Morgan was waiting in front of his boat on the dock. It had been a very busy day. First, the movie contractors had showed up with tons of equipment for some hotshot director and his movie of a lifetime, or some such nonsense. Jack did not care about all that. All he cared was that they were paying him double his usual rate for the trip to Brazil. He had demanded that outrageous sum after being told they wanted to film some scenes on his boat. His jaw nearly hit the floor when they agreed. The film crew was huge. Jack had a hard time counting them all, what with all them coming and going as they stored their gear and settled in. One lady in particular really stood out - she was apparently the star of the show and Jack could easily see why. She was gorgeous, with legs to die for. Really easy on the eyes, as his friends liked to say. He had already reprimanded one of his crew who had yelled a catcall towards her.

Then a small family of four boarded - the husband had said something about the trip being a gift from his boss. Jack smiled and nodded happily, while catching side glances at the rather nice looking wife. Too bad she already had kids... all that extra baggage. Following them was a team of archaeologists and a group of tourists from some upstate travel agency.

Jack's boat, which he had named "The Hornet of the Abyss" was not all that beautiful. Most of the crew referred to her as the Hornet, though Jack frowned at that. Compared to many of the other boats in port, it was not much to look at. Where most were steamships, the Hornet was a sailing vessel. Though impressively built and quite sturdy, it was nonetheless filthy. Jack was a firm believer in function over form.

Its crew, all men, had served time in jail - most for petty offenses, some for more serious crimes. What no one knew, except for the crew of the Hornet, was that Jack Morgan was a world-class poacher. He had never been caught, although he had had several narrow escapes. He had been to South America more than once on several successful hunts. The reward for those hunts was enormous profit on the black market, where he sold the fruits of his labors: exotic animals, both alive and dead.

People traveling on his ship were often smugglers or big game hunters. They paid him with cold hard cash or bartered with various goods he found himself in need of. In return, he took them along on his ventures. As long as they paid, Captain Morgan asked no questions. The film crew, he knew, had paid with illegal money. It was nothing they said or did, but he knew, from his contacts in the city, that the filmmaker was in deep with the mafia. He smiled when he discovered that information, but said nothing. Money was money as far as Jack was concerned.

Bit by bit, the ship was loaded. Jack had offered to help, for a price, but had been rebuked. The filmmaker was somewhat protective of his trinkets and baubles. Just then, he noticed the young woman from before, standing outside her room. She was speaking to one of the film crew, but she saw Jack looking at her. God she was so attractive! He would give almost anything to be able to touch those magnificent legs of hers. He gave her a wink that she ignored.

A few hours later, everything was loaded, secured, and tallied, and the passengers were all in their assigned quarters. While the crew checked the boat's draft to ensure it was not overloaded, Jack went over the passenger list, double-checking the count. He did not care for stowaways. If someone wanted a ride on his boat, they had to pay just like everyone else. When he was satisfied the account was good, he gave the signal to the crew. The harbor master had already cleared them for departure. A grand total of two hundred and forty-two people were currently aboard "The Hornet of the Abyss."

The deck hands quickly and efficiently undocked the boat. Once they were away from the main port area, the sails were fully unfurled. The Hornet made swift progress across the tranquil waters. It was an unusually good weather day, a fine omen if ever there was one, as far as Jack was concerned.

From the dock, the ship slowly disappeared below the horizon - just one tiny blip among many that day. No one on board had any idea the unique experience awaiting them.




Two weeks after the departure of "The Hornet of the Abyss," all communication was lost. There were no indications of distress from the ship beforehand. All attempts to regain contact with the ship failed. Spotter planes found no signs of her whereabouts. With no indication where the ship might have foundered, the rescue task force was required to cover an enormous area. After weeks of fruitless searching, the effort was finally called off. No wreckage was ever found. No bodies recovered. Numerous sonar readings of the area showed nothing unusual. It was as if the ship had simply disappeared into thin air, along with two hundred and forty-two souls. They never suspected that the "The Hornet of the Abyss" had disappeared from the Earth and had been found far, very far from the planet from whence it came.


To be continued...

Little Peter ran. His speed was seemingly impossible for his young age - only eight years old. He was experiencing an almost unknown force within his young muscles. Yes, he was fit. But there was a difference between being in good shape and being at the apex of human capability. All his pursuers, who had all fallen into a group behind him, were futilely trying to keep up. Every one of them was older than he was, and he was certain they had bad intentions. Grown-ups always did. Why else would they chase a small child like him when he was only trying to have fun?

Once he had seen them approaching, he had sprinted away with an incredible burst of speed. Afterwards, the hunt began. They appeared to have contacted each other somehow, since they had increased in number from two to over ten. Up ahead, Peter saw another waiting in ambush behind an open door he was about to pass. So, they were ahead of him too. No matter. Peter waited until the last second and then slid between the ambusher's legs when he leapt out to block Peter's way. The next moment, he avoided another grown-up who came from the other side by jerking to the right, then turning sharply to the left instead. That one went tumbling when he tried to correct himself. Peter thought he heard a curse, but he paid no heed, forcing his legs to run even faster down the hallway.

"It's useless to run, kid," one of them shouted. "We'll catch you!"

Peter did not care what they said. He already had a foolproof plan in mind: he would run until he could no longer see his pursuers, find a place so well hidden that no one would ever be able to find him, and then he would spend the rest of his life there. It might take a while, but he had his favorite plastic toy soldier in his pocket. They would keep each other company. Who knew, maybe the soldier would help him come up with a better plan in case his pursuers found him.

A plant caught his attention - it was a huge potted bush. It was much larger than others he had passed. It looked like it would make an excellent temporary hiding place. He ran around to the back and pushed his way as deep as he could to make sure all of his limbs were hidden from view. The ones chasing him would not notice anything.

Not long after, several of them passed his position. They were winded and angry. The group stopped, then came together. He heard one of them assigning tasks - they were going to split up and continue to search for him. Despite this, Peter was not afraid. No, he was proud of himself. He had fooled them all. It was not bad for a mere eight-year-old boy!

Taking extra care, he peeked out from his hiding place. After having visually confirmed that nobody was nearby, he quietly stepped out and looked around. Where could he go now? If they were looking for him, and he was much smaller than them…

A brilliant idea came to mind. They would never think to search in places that were large. They would be looking for places small, just like he was. He smacked his head. Of course! It was so logical!

He was reminded of a saying, "A hawk doesn't think to hunt what is flying higher than him, but only what is lower."

How simple it was to outsmart the deadliest predators of the world. He ran down the hall until he came to a door, then opened it. Running outside, he looked around until he spotted his goal. He chose the highest point for miles around. He held out his hands, spat on his palms like in the movies his father watched, then rubbed his hands again and began climbing.

The ascension was difficult for him. He had never climbed up so far before. Fortunately, fear of heights was an unknown concept to him; the goal was all that mattered. He had to reach the top. No grown-up seemed to be in his way. Was it luck or divine favor? Regardless, he reached the top moments later. He opened the door and stepped inside. The view was incredible.

It was like a window to the world. From the port gallery window of the Storm Hornet, Peter had a splendid view of the Atlantic Ocean and the ship's bow. Below, dozens and dozens of tiny people bustled with activities that he could not understand.

It had been three miserable days since the ship left port at New York and he was already bored to tears. There was nothing to do and he was never given anything to make bases and battlefields for his action figures. Even worse, there was not a single cookie anywhere to be found. And he had looked everywhere. All he got were grungy cakes that reminded him of his doting grandmother's face, whom he hated. Who did she think she was when she pinched his cheeks with a big wrinkled smile?

Therefore, in order to spice up his life on the sea, Peter had decided to steal the first valuable object he could find - the top of a swimsuit of a young woman sun tanning at the pool. He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. The woman's scream brought a slew of people. When they saw him, they gave chase. He thus triggered an enormous game of cat and mouse. At the moment, he was doing very well, having lost all of his pursuers.

Grown-ups for him were people who did not take enough time to play. They spent all their time working and doing boring things. That did not make any sense to Peter. Therefore, he had decided he would show them the error of their ways. They put too much priority on work and not enough on having fun. He would do the opposite. So far, his ploy had succeeded in luring them out of their work so they could play with him. One way or another, he had helped them all.

All of a sudden, the door behind him sprung wide open. He jumped and saw none other than his father's silhouette through the blinding light. Problems were about to begin.

"Uh, oh…"

"Peter, I'm giving you exactly three seconds to come to me, or else things will go very, very, VERY BADLY! ONE!"

Peter looked around him to see if there was any way out of his situation. He could only see a double-door leading who-knows-where. The other option was to break the window with brute strength (which would hurt), land one story below (which would hurt even more), and continue his race elsewhere (which would be tedious). He made his decision.

His father yelled, "TWO!" He never had time to yell three.

Peter bolted toward the double-door and opened it. He silently thanked Jesus for not keeping it locked. Running with all his might, he ran down a flight of stairs and turned the corner. Through another door, he entered in a vast room with a ton of windows. Scattered all around him were strange machines making irritating beeping and ticking noises. A huge wheel stood proudly in the center of the room. Behind it stood a very well dressed man. Peter quietly slipped between the man and the wheel, crouching low to remain hidden.

His father arrived a moment later. He immediately saw where his son was.

"Peter! Come to me right this moment or you will get the whipping of a lifetime. Come and let this gentleman get back to his work."

"Oh, but he didn't bother me in the slightest, mister," said the captain as he turned around. "I believe that this young man simply wanted to see what a ship's wheel looked like."

"Yes, of course," Peter's father said, calming slightly. "Still, he pulled a dirty little prank and he doesn't seem to want to take his punishment. Am I right, Peter?" His father looked him right in the eyes.

"Come now, come now," said the captain as he took the little one by the hand and pulled him up. At the same time, he took the article of clothing from the boys loosened grip. "I believe that it all went further than the boy intended. I will personally, I will bring this… this swimsuit top to its owner myself. By the way," he said as he extended his hand, "I am Captain Jack Morgan. And you are…?"

"George. George Roosevelt," the man answered as they shook hands.

"Oh, like the president? Are you…"

"No relation."

"Ah! Too bad. Anyway, excuse me, but I have to take the wheel again. Have a nice stay."

"Thank you very much. Come on, Peter."

Peter looked at the captain, who amiably smiled at him, then went to his father. The man was much more relaxed than when he had been running after Peter. The captain had thankfully calmed him down. Peter walked next to his father toward their quarters. He was already making places for his next escapade. It was going to be even more fun than this one had been.


Once evening came, Captain Jack Morgan stood waiting patiently for his guest to arrive. The lovely young woman he had seen on boarding day had an air about her. Moreover, she had seemed to resist his princely charm. After doing a bit of research, he learned that George's son had stolen the top of the swimsuit of this very same woman with the long golden hair. He sent one of his men to fetch her. All of this, of course, was done in order to get closer to this gorgeous lady. Captain Jack Morgan was not the type to back down when it come to a potential conquest. He had done it plenty of times before and he would gladly do it again.

He had prepared everything. He reserved the entire crew's lounge on the ship. The lounge was really a prime location on his boat where sailors could relax, play with cards and other games where they bet their salary. A magnificent candlelit dinner was laid out on the table before him and one of the most comfortable chairs, for his future conquest, remained vacant at the front of the table. He had stationed a lavish disc player in the corner, which played a few romantic pieces from an artist he knew nothing about, yet still had a very beautiful voice. All that was left was to complete the picture was the main character herself.

His heart thudded heavily in his chest as heard footsteps approaching. He adjusted his outfit and took a serious look at himself in the mirror. Marilyn entered without knocking.

His dreamy vision vanished in a few seconds, as instead of a highly distinguished woman, which is what he had been hoping for, came one plainly clothed, in a bath robe no less… with bare feet. She had obviously just stepped out of the private bath he had granted her after she protested that her existing accommodations were inadequate. She looked highly upset and if he had to guess, it would be because of the fact that she had had to walk all the way to the lounge.

"Yes? What is it?" she dryly asked. "This had better be good."

Taken aback, the captain was struck speechless. In spite of her phenomenal beauty, this woman had quite an attitude. Quickly recovering, he said, "Could you take a seat for a few moments? Just long enough to chat a little?" He held out the chair for her.

"I'd rather stay standing and get this over with. What is it?"

This time, the captain did not let himself be taken by her air of superiority. "Please take a seat, ma'am. This dinner is for you and me. At least have the kindness to taste an apple."

Marilyn sighed and sat down, clearly regretting having acceded to the captain's demands. She picked an apple, and while looking at the captain directly in the eyes, fully bit down, as if it were his body that she were so violently crunching. She swallowed, and then smiled. "Satisfied?"

The captain smirked. Decidedly, being around this woman was not going to be easy. "Yes."

"So, what is it that is so important?"

"That can wait just a little while-"

Slapping her free hand on the table, she interrupted him. "I don't have time for this."

"I see. I believe we haven't been introduced yet," said the captain with a lopsided smile. He now took pleasure at torturing her. What was surprising was that she did not stand up and leave. He concluded she was curious to know what he had to say. In other words, he now had an advantage.

"No, I don't believe we have," she said. She bit the apple again, still looking him straight in the eyes. She had no intention of introducing herself first.

Giving her a slight bow, he said, "Captain Jack Morgan's the name. I'm glad to make your acquaintance, miss." He extended his hand.

She refused to offer hers, and instead bit once more into her apple. At the rate she was going, it would be done in less than a minute. "Marilyn," she said in a flat tone of voice.

"And your family name?"

"Is something I keep to myself," she said with a small grin at the corner of her lips.

"Alright, very well, as you wish."

"Good. Now that we have become best friends in the world, what is it that it so important that you would bother me so?"

"You are gorgeous, Marilyn. What you did with your hair looks so natural and your bath robe is tied just tight enough that I can admire your waist while still catching glimpses of your other assets."

"You are joking, right?"

"Absolutely not."

"I just came out of a bath. In fact, I was forced to come out of my bath. Your boorish sailor threatened to open the door if I didn't come. What do you have to say to that?"

"You will have to pardon me for that annoyance. Upon my honor it was unintentional."

Marilyn remained icy. She raised an eyebrow, pretending to be upset and no longer moved at all. Captain Morgan smiled and stood up, his hands behind his back. Marilyn followed him with her eyes. He gently opened a drawer in the back of the room and took out a piece of clothing. At first, Marilyn did not recognize it, but then she sat upright when she saw that it was the top of her swimsuit. She kept control of her emotions as best as she could in order to appear as indifferent as possible.

"Is this yours?" he asked as he extended it to her.

"I think so, yes," she said as she shrugged. She extended her own hand toward so that he could give it to her. Instead, he leaned forward with his head and smelled of the clothing.

"Tell me… do you wear perfume?" he said, hiding his smile as best as he could.

Naturally, what he held in his hands smelled of Marilyn.

"Every day," she said crossing her arms, quite bothered that the captain dared smell what belonged to her.

"And what is this exactly?" he said, closely examining the swimsuit top. He had never seen something quite so… small.

"They call it a bikini in Brazil. It's a trend there. So I decided to get one and voila. Any other questions?"

"How do you put it on?" he said, feigning ignorance.

Marilyn's response was the most unexpected answer he could ever think of. Indeed, Marilyn stood up, and simply removed her bathrobe and revealed her naked breasts, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. She strutted over to him, full of assurance. She put her hands on his shoulders, pushed him back to his chair, and sat down on his lap, her legs on both sides of his body. She positioned herself so that she was comfortable and carefully took her bikini top from the captain's hand.

Captain Morgan was completely awestruck by the view Marilyn offered him. It was the first time in a long time he had seen such raw splendor from a body. The heavenly sight before him was perfect. There was not one single flaw. Everything was well rounded, well-tanned, and very real. He was tempted to reach out to touch, just to make sure, but something told him that would not go over well. So he kept his hands to himself and watched.

This unique view lasted mere seconds as Marilyn took her swimsuit top by the two strings hanging from both sides of the piece and efficiently tied them behind her back. Her chest was now concealed behind it. She leaned forward and whispered into his ears, "You put it on like that."

With that, she stood up abruptly, tossed her bathrobe on again, and walked towards the door. Before leaving, she made sure to take one of the baskets on the table filled with exotic fruits. To the captain, she said, "I'm taking these fruits. Frankly, I'm sick of eating hard bread and stew that doesn't smell any good. Bye!"

Meanwhile, Captain Jack Morgan had completely fallen for Marilyn's charm, even though he knew very well that she was only teasing him. What a woman she was.


The camera was running. Jim turned the little latch as he carefully watched Marilyn play a key scene of the movie. The kind of scene was not very pleasant for him to film, but he had to do it if he wanted to attract female customers. According to people who knew of such things, they were an important demographic.

Indeed, it was a scene where Marilyn, or rather Maria for the moment, finally opened her heart to the love of her life, Robert. Robert was being played by none other than Richard Harrison. Richard was not considered a giant of the big screen, but he was not a bit player either. It had not been difficult to convince him to join the cast. Richard was the kind of actor who was attracted to roles that involved steamy love scenes. The roles he played were actually a huge contrast to his private life, which was completely devoid of women. Richard had a rather egocentric personality centered solely on himself. He hated other people as much as he loved himself. Nobody was attracted to him in person, but audiences were attracted to the handsome young man who played the dashing hero who always got the girl in the end. And that was Richard Harrison through and through.

The scene he was currently playing with Marilyn was not very complex, but necessary to the plot. Robert confessed his hidden feelings to Maria, but admitted that their love could never be. He found himself pathetic compared to her and did not believe he deserved her. He looked away from her and walked away. Alone, Maria stood while tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She turned back to the ocean, to a splendid view: the setting sun illuminated her tears, which fell one by one in the water below.

Jim let this moment last a few seconds, and then cut.

"Excellent, Marilyn! I think the camera loves you! Everything was great and the emotion flowed in from everywhere!"

"Thank you very much," she said plainly.

"That will be all for today. You can take your break now."

She tilted her head and lit up a cigarette, heading to her room. However, she had only taken a dozen steps before she was interrupted by Richard. He had just come back from the deck. He had a small grin over the corner of his lips and oozed with self-confidence.

"Bravo for the scene. I saw you from up there and I almost believed I was there," he said as he leaned toward her.

Marilyn walked toward him, took a good puff of her cigarette and exhaled all the smoke in his face. Richard's eyes welled up instantly, but he kept his gaze on Marilyn's deep blue irises.

"I don't have time to talk with you," she said as she walked brusquely around him.

Richard grabbed her by the wrist so she could not go past. Marilyn groaned in pain. His grip was very strong. Richard promptly pulled her farther into the hallway, so as not to alert the others. As he was going, he smelled the sweet scent of her hair.

Marilyn was ready to defend herself, but shockingly, she heard a voice that did not come from Richard.

"Is there a problem?"

The voice belonged to Antonio, the mafia member who passed himself off as a member of Jim Malcolm's team. Even though he was part of a society where crime was the number one source of income, never did Antonio involve innocents in his work unless it was absolutely necessary. Indeed, to attack a woman was something of a cardinal offense in his view. Despite his criminal background, Antonio made it his goal to help people in need - damsels or otherwise.

"Go away, kid," said Richard.

Antonio's eyes fell on Marilyn, who averted hers. She felt shame, being seen there, in such a humiliating moment, taken by an idiot. She wished she could disappear. Marilyn always hated showing her weaknesses.

"It just so happens that I have a few words to say to this lady," said Antonio, his eyebrows furrowed with anger. "I suggest you let her go."

Richard sighed and let go of Marilyn's arm, like a child tossing a toy he no longer wanted to play with on the ground. He walked around Antonio, shoving him with his shoulder as he went. Antonio remained silent for a few moments, then walked to Marilyn, who still looked away in shame.

"Miss Marilyn?"

She did not answer.

"Are you all right? Did he do something to you?"

Marilyn slowly turned to him, her eyes wet with tears. She followed his eyes, which had lowered to her now red wrist. She immediately hid it behind her back.

"Yes, yes, I…" she practically whispered as she wiped her eyes with her free hand. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"It's nothing important. I just thought to tell you to be careful not to look too often toward the camera. It's hard for new actors to-"

"Yes, I understand," she interrupted. "Was that all?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"Thanks. You can go back with the others," she said, hoping he would go as soon as possible, feeling a second wave of tears coming. "I wish to be alone."

"Are you sure everything's all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm telling you. Please, go away." She shooed him with her hand.

Antonio did what she said, not wanting to upset her further, and left, but not without looking at her over his shoulder one last time.

Marilyn waited for a few moments, and when she was sure she was alone, she let the tight rein she held on her emotions go. Her tears flowed and she collapsed on the floor, quietly cursing her unfair life. Men's violence was everywhere. She could not escape it. Even those actors, those people everyone looked up to with so much admiration, could so easily turn out to be utter scum. Scum, just like customers who regularly beat her after drinking too much. It was not uncommon that she would find herself with multiple bruises in the morning, her customers having hit her for all kind of reasons she did not understand. They were all scum. Every last one of them.

Marilyn hated those moments, yet had lived through them most of her life. She hated being violated by men. They were her demons, a perpetual nightmare that she was sure she was never going to come out of. And when she took a chance offered to her in order to escape… men were there to remind her there was no escape at all. When was it going to end?

Choking back sobs, Marilyn stood back up, bitterness filling her heart, and slowly walked to her room. She did not want to see anyone. Nobody came to see her.


Matthew, Scott, and John were the three leaders of an archaeological mission of utmost importance. They led a team composed of a dozen archaeologists and historians specializing in Greek, Aztec, and Brazilian history.

Two weeks prior, a young Brazilian child, who was playing with his friends, accidentally stumbled over the top of a half-buried, three-foot tall tablet in perfect condition. There were strange symbols written on it, which he could not understand. Two days later, it was utter madness in the small village in northern Brazil. The tablet that the child discovered did not contain one, but two sets of writings: Aztec pictographs, and even more surprising, Greek symbols. The discovery, if authenticated, would profoundly change humanity's history.

In order to perform the necessary tasks to verify the authenticity of the tablet, the best of the best were called in to study the find. A team was then hurriedly assembled from all across the world. Two Americans and an Englishman were declared leaders of the mission. If the tablet turned out not to be a hoax, the old hypothesis which stipulated that, during his conquests, Alexander the Great had succeeded in traveling to America would be taken extremely seriously. Even better, his people would have communicated with the Aztecs. It was possible there had even been a pact between the two peoples.

The Englishman, a man by the name of Matthew, could not stand the never-ending sea trip anymore. He had had enough of the swaying and bouncing and creaks and groans of the boat. Along with him on the trip was his eldest son, Sydney, a boy of fifteen years. The boy was very smart for his age, but also very shy. He had not wanted to come along on the trip, but his father insisted. Like his father, he always had his nose in a book. Sydney wore very thick glasses; since a very young age, his eyes had suffered from severe hyperopia and myopia. That did not stop him from excelling, as his father had at his age, to learn the different techniques archaeologists used in their search for answers.

It was nearing midnight and Sydney still found himself alone in his room - his dad had figured that he was mature enough to stay in a separate rooms - reading books about Aztecs and their mythical society. Next door, he could hear his father being sick yet again. The sailors on board had made fun of him, calling him a landlubber and asking him where he had left his sea legs. Sydney, on the other hand, had no trouble at all on the boat. He found the rhythmic motion soothing.

Sydney stopped at the end of a chapter which told how much the Aztecs were a dominant power in their time and how they could have extended all over South America, where the famous tablet came from. Like his father, this discovery fascinated him to the utmost. He glanced out at the sky through his window and noticed how there were no clouds - just the glow of the moon hanging out over the water.

Making a quick decision, he jumped off his bed, grabbed his telescope and a book about the constellations, and ran as fast as he could out onto the main deck. Many people continued to bustle with their tasks, while he looked for where he could set up his telescope to observe the sky. It did not take him long before finding the perfect location: on the roof of the captain's cabin. No one would bother him up there.

He walked hastily over, eager to quench his thirst for knowledge. He was lucky, because there was a ladder leading directly to the top of the captain's cabin. Once he reached the top, he let out a little cheer. "Alone at last!"

But once he laid his eyes on the roof of the captain's cabin, he saw that he was not alone. A young woman was sitting near the edge. She jumped once she heard him and turned around to see who had found her.

"Oh, sorry! I-I-I…" Sydney was beside himself with embarrassment. "I was sure that there would be nobody here. I'll just leave now. Sorry for bothering you."

"Not at all. Come sit next to me," said the woman. "There's more than enough room for the two of us." She motioned for him to come and sit down. She seemed reassured for some reason. Perhaps she had been expecting someone else.

"Well… all right," said Sydney, not convinced that he would be able to work in peace with a girl next to him. In the light of the moon, he saw her smile, and she moved a little to the side to make room for him. Sydney sat down next to her and was about to open his mouth, but the young girl was faster than he was.

"So! What's your name?" she asked.

"Sydney. And yo-"

"Amanda! Nice to meet you, Sydney."

She gave him a hug and kissed him on both cheeks, all cheerful.

"Wow, you have quite a lot of energy for such a late hour," Sydney told her, blushing a little bit from the two kisses he had just received.

"Ah… me, it's during the night when I feel good! It's… so dark and so… lonely. Plus, since we're on a boat, I couldn't miss such an occasion," she said dreamily. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. What were you doing here all alone? Surely not to stay here and appreciate your solitude?" said Sydney, already on the defensive at Amanda's questioning.

"I was looking at the stars - the vastness of the sky… I was thinking how those little white dots are so far away from us. We feel so small compared to such immensity… don't you think so?"

"I agree. As for me, I was just coming to study those stars. You see, the sky is like a map, and this ship probably guides itself by reading what the stars tell it."

"What?" she said surprised. "But how can we do that?"

Sydney smiled at her naive curiosity. He himself had the same reaction when he was younger, when he was eight years old.

"Have you ever heard of celestial navigation?"

"Not really."

"What about cartography?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Well, let's start with something simple. All you need to know is how to make a well-drawn map." He showed her his book, having it open on the page where they could see the constellations and the stars over a mountainous Canadian region. "And here, if you turn the page… here… you can see that we are clearly on the Atlantic Ocean, near the uhh… the Dominican Republic, I believe. Isn't it fascinating?"

"Yes," she said semi-consciously, captivated by what the book revealed to her.

"So, if you ever got lost, you could help yourself by referring to the sky. It's a lot more accurate than dead reckoning. I wish I had a sextant to show you. It's cool what you can do with a little knowledge. Anyway, that's why sailors sometimes say that the stars light the way."

And they discussed at great length about the stars, each telling of their own experiences regarding the stars, and the discussion about stars slowly morphed into a different discussion. Sydney began to understand what Amanda was saying when she told him how much she felt free during the night. Usually timid, Sydney would have stuttered a few words, and then would have run away. But this time, words literally poured from his mouth. He had no fear and revealed everything about himself. The discussion lasted almost two hours, when Amanda suddenly shouted while pointing at the sky.

"Look! A shooting star!"

Sydney looked above his head and indeed noticed a shooting star traversing the sky.

Sydney smiled. "You should make a wish."

"Wait, there are even more!" she exclaimed.

"Wow," was all Sydney could say.

Indeed, more shooting stars illuminated the sky with their presence. The phenomenon soon transformed into a true downpour of shooting stars, like one of the more famous meteor showers that take place at specific intervals. However, Sydney knew that something was not right. While he was no astronomer, he knew enough to know that what was happening in the sky above was not some normal event. There were no major meteor showers during this time of the year where they were. So what could it be? He did not have time to question further - the boat began violently rocking back and forth.

The ocean was full of frothing white-topped waves. All evening and all night it had been calm. There was no storm over the horizon. In fact, there were no clouds at all. Yet the waves continued to worsen.

A huge wave suddenly struck the boat, shaking it even more violently. Amanda fell into Sydney's arms. He held onto her in fear until the boat settled somewhat. Then both of them made their way down the ladder as fast as possible. Sydney ran to the back of the boat, dragging Amanda behind him. Grabbing the short rope below, he rang the ship's bell - the one used to gather the sailors on the ship's deck.

Most were already up due to the violence of the water. Not even a minute passed before the whole crew found itself on the deck. The ship rocked from all sides and the waves continued to churn more and more violently. Water began to splash all over the deck as the tops of the waves grew dangerously tall. Captain Morgan's men did not know what to do anymore. Finally, the captain himself arrived on deck.

"What are you all doing up here, you morons? Who dared ring the bell, huh?"

"Look!" Sydney pointed at the sky.

The crew looked at Sydney, then at the sky, and astonishment spread across their faces. The sky was illuminated by thousands of shooting stars. Then, amazingly, the stars began to do something impossible - they began to spin in a spiral formation, slowly forming a perfect circle in the sky. The circle grew in size, changing into a funnel. The lower tip of the funnel descended right on top of the boat and completely enveloped it.

Time seemed stop. Everything was glittering white with an intensely bright light that seemed to permeate everything. All around, as far as they could see was an infinite white expanse. Below the boat was a void of nothingness. The ocean was gone.

Amanda approached the edge of the boat and reached her hand out. It touched something, which she caught. Pulling her hand back, she saw a tiny particle that, before her very eyes, changed into a crystal with sharp spikes all around. It was almost like a… miniature star. Eyes wide, Amanda took a small piece of cloth that had been torn from one of the sails and carefully wrapped up the crystallized star. She then tucked the bundle under her shirt. Glancing around, she realized no one had seen what she had done.

Suddenly, the stars stirred up again and the funnel reformed. All around them, the swirling pattern reversed itself. The funnel reformed into a circle, then the stars scattered in every direction across the sky.

It was over. And things were suddenly very different.

A man shouted, "Land ho!"

Several sailors rushed to the railing and could see that the lookout was indeed right. Land was right before them… and the ship was rapidly approaching it.

"Land how?" Captain Morgan yelled. "We're not anywhere near land!" He immediately ran to the wheel in order to prevent the boat from running aground on the all-to-real beach. His second-in-command accompanied him.

At the wheel, the captain swore as he had never done before, grabbing the wheel and pulling hard. He was not going to allow his ship to be wrecked. "Hell fire and brimstone, what is this shit? We were barely one week out from our destination! What just happened, for god's sake?"

The second-in-command did not dare reply, terrified both by the situation and by his own captain. Instead, he concentrated on trying to help the captain turn the wheel. They both failed. The ship was moving too fast, pushed along by a powerful, unseen current. They could only watch in horror as the beach rushed toward them.

On the deck, everyone crossed their fingers and hoped the vessel would not break into pieces on the beach. Bracing against whatever they could find, they huddled against each other and waited.

The boat ran aground with a heavy scraping sound and came to an abrupt stop.

No one knew where they were or how they had gotten there. They only knew they were stuck.


To be continued…