True story is true, bro.
Meghan and I drove down Route 9, headed towards the mall.
"I like your new Twitter handle," I said, as we pulled up to a red light. She had recently changed it to reflect her love of t-rexes. "Mine's so boring. It's just my name and favorite number."
Meghan laughed.
"I'm sure we can come up with something better," she said, glancing to the right where a large light and fan store was located.
Above the white and windowed building was a sign: Paddle Fans.
"Hey, change it to paddle fans," she said pointing to the sign.
"Hmmm, I like that," I said, tucking paddle fans into the back of my mind. It was certainly more interesting than @kaitkanzler8. "Paddlefans it is."
----------------
And that's the [for serious] true story of how I got my handle for Twitter, Instagram, reddit and much of the social media I'm a part of. I always get awkward looks when I tell that story. My boyfriend passed the sign when we first started dating and had to ask if that's where I got my social media names. I had to admit that it was. The end.
Monday, June 6, 2016
break through the silence pt. 2
Part 2 of Maise and Oscar's story. I haven't slept all night, again.... I don't know if I'm just excited to write sometimes or it's just insomnia. It's great for my creative side, not so great for my sleep schedule...
“I promise I'm not,” Oscar said.
As we walked to the PATH station on
33rd Street, Oscar and I continued to chat. I was having a
hard time containing my enthusiasm, even with how tired I was. The
excitement of being able to finally hear a voice was starting to wear
on me and I could feel myself starting to drag my feet but I was
determined to keep up with Oscar. I could relax and rest a bit once
we were on the PATH train.
“That coffee place was pretty good,”
Oscar said, still allowing me to hold onto his arm.
Maybe he was afraid I was going to run
into something again.
“Cup & Cup? They're one of my
favorites,” I said. “I work in Murray Hill so when I'm in the
city, I naturally gravitate to it. Though I'm a caffeine addict, so
I'm there quite often.”
“I've passed them a few times and a
lot of my friends have recommended them,” he said, releasing my arm
so we could go down the stairs to the station. “Where do you work?”
“Oxford University Press. I'm an
editorial assistant there.”
Oscar looked impressed, but he
shouldn't have. It was an interesting job but could get repetitive.
Sometimes I felt like a glorified intern, being sent for coffee and
making copies. I was always tempted to make the argument that if I
wanted duties typically assigned to administrative assistants, I
would have applied to that job instead of the one I had. But it was a
pain to argue about so I left well enough alone.
“That seems like an interesting
enough job.”
I shrugged and made a face. We swiped
MTA cards and waited on the platform with several other people.
“There are some things that are
pretty cool, but I'm not sure if that's what I want to do.”
“You're young,” he said. “You
have plenty of time to decide what you want to do with your life.”
I laughed and pushed his arm lightly.
“I doubt you're much older than I am,
sir. You can't be older than 35.”
Oscar looked sheepish as he adjusted
his messenger bag on his shoulders.
“I'm 29,” he said with a sigh.
“See, you're not so worldly and old
after all.”
He grinned at me and threw up his
hands.
“I'm plenty worldly and the kids I
teach make me feel old,” he told me. “I think that counts.”
The PATH train whooshed past us with a
hot and smelly gust of air before slowing down and stopping
completely. We stepped into the cool car and took seats next to each
other on the hard plastic bench. I blushed a bit when the train
lurched forward, causing me to knock into Oscar. Him offering his arm
was one thing, but we were about to be cramped together in a small,
undoubtedly packed train car. He glanced down at me with his clear
green eyes, brow furrowed.
“So I have a bit of a prying question
for you,” he said, adjusting his bag in his lap. “But I figure it
makes us even considering you barreled into me and then commandeered
my evening. How did you lose your hearing?”
I felt heat creep up my neck and ducked
my head, embarrassed.
“I'm sorry. I never even thought that
I was derailing your night,” I wailed, hiding my face in my hands.
“I was just focused on the fact that I could hear you that nothing
else around me mattered.”
Oscar pulled my hands away from my face
and gave me a friendly smile.
“There's nothing to apologize for,
Maise,” he said. “Trust me when I say this is better than what I
was supposed to do tonight. I can imagine this whole situation is
quite a shock to your system, considering you haven't been able to
hear anyone for 10 years. Which brings me back to my question. How
did you lose your hearing?”
“What were you supposed to do
tonight?”
“Nice try at a diversion,” Oscar
said. “Answer my question first and then I'll answer yours.”
“It's actually really simple,” I
said, quickly checking my iPhone for text messages. Since meeting
Oscar, I had pretty much ignored it's pulsing buzz. “No one knows.”
“What!? How is that possible? Your
hearing loss must have been caused by something.”
“Oh, I'm sure it was,” I said,
shooting off a quick text to my roommate, telling her it was okay
that she went out without me. “But no doctor's have been able to
figure it out. One day, I went to bed as a normal high school
sophomore and then woke up as the deaf freak. It was like someone
took a remote and pressed the mute button.”
Oscar frowned.
“Being deaf doesn't make you a
freak,” he said, nudging me with an elbow. “You're just as normal
as everyone else. Did people really think that?”
I lifted my shoulders in a nonchalant
salute to the assholes I had once called my friends.
“You would know better than anyone
how cruel high schoolers can be,” I pointed out. “No one seemed
to understand that, overnight, I went from the happy-go-lucky girl
they knew to someone who was now struggling with absolute silence for
the rest of her life. There was always something else to occupy their
time once they realized I couldn't communicate with them easily.”
Talking about my past sometimes made me
uncomfortable. I had grown up in an extremely small town on the
Jersey Shore and had gone to a fairly small high school. I was still
the girl next door but I was the girl next door who was suddenly
different.
“None of them bothered to even
attempt to learn sign language,” I explained. “I had only one
friend who seemed interested but she got busy with school. That was
just one more thing she didn't have time to add on her plate. By that
point, she and I didn't see each other and we mainly communicated
through Facebook and texting.”
“That sounds lonely.”
I nodded.
“It was for a time, but it lead to me
studying very hard and getting into a good school. So I guess it paid
off in the end. Okay, now for my question.”
“You are full of them,” Oscar said,
snickering as I swatted at him.
“Yes, well. As I said earlier, I
could listen to you talk for hours and hours. I'm afraid your voice
will be the only voice I ever hear for the rest of my life.”
“I have faith that you'll be able to
hear someone else's voice,” he said. “Maybe some doctor will
figure out what happened to you.”
“Maybe,” I echoed as the train
pulled into the Hoboken station. “So?”
“I was going to pick up some things
from my ex-girlfriend's apartment,” he said as we got up and exited
the train car to the platform. “We broke up a few months ago and I
just haven't had the time to go and grab it. I'll just go tomorrow.”
My heart leaped with glee. With such a
recent breakup, he may not be attached to anyone, leaving me
potentially able to monopolize his time. I was slightly selfish to
think that, but I was used to getting my way. I was a charming girl.
We climbed the stairs to the surface
and began walking along the sidewalk. It seemed so strange. It was
like I was hearing Oscar's voice in a vacuum. Only his voice and his
gentle breathing. I really did want to keep him to myself for the
rest of the night to learn more about him but I had to go to sleep or
else I'd fall asleep standing up.
“I hate to leave, but I must go to
bed,” I said, pausing at a corner and waiting for traffic to stop.
“I'll never be able to function in the morning.”
“Me as well,” he said. He held out
his hand. “Here, trade phones and we can put our numbers in them.
That way, you can hear my voice again and again.”
I smiled as I said, “I would like
that. You know, I meant what I said about wanting to be your friend.
I guess I got lucky that the one person I can her isn't jerk. At
least that I know of.”
“I promise I'm not,” Oscar said.
Trading iPhones, we added each other to
our contacts. Getting my phone back, I quickly sent him a smiley face
emoticon and he laughed as it popped up on his screen. I navigated us
to my block, which wasn't far from the station at all and stopped at
an intersection. As enamored as I was, I was going to play this smart
and not let him know exactly where I lived.
“Well, this is my street. I can walk
from here,” I said. “Thank you so much for tonight. I don't think
I can ever tell you how much this means to me.”
Oscar looked down and scuffed his foot
against the pavement.
“I enjoyed myself considering how
strangely everything started,” he admitted. “And I'd really like
to get to know you better.”
His statement made me melt inside.
Without even thinking, I gave him a tight hug. He stiffened at first
and then he relaxed against my body. Before he left me on the corner
of my street, Oscar placed a soft kiss on my forehead. It felt rather
brotherly but I wasn't going to complain. I'd take any contact with
him at this point.
“Text me when you get into your
apartment,” he said. “I'll give you a call tomorrow.”
“That sounds like a promise,” I
teased.
He looked at me with solemn green eyes.
“It is.”
Sunday, June 5, 2016
break through the silence
This was an interesting idea. There is a movie with Camilla Belle called "The Quiet" that might be worth watching. Camilla Belle plays a girl who pretends to be deaf and mute to be closer to hear father after her mother's deaf. I just gave a terrible description of the movie because it's a lot more than that. It got terrible reviews but I thought it was an okay movie. Maybe it's because I'm a fan of Camilla Belle and Shawn Ashmore. Anyway, enjoy Maise and Oscar!
Since I was 15, silence has been my constant companion. No one can tell me why my hearing mysteriously disappeared 10 years ago. I've been poked and prodded by a thousand different doctors all over the world and not a one can even give me a diagnosis. My parents tried everything they could but to no avail, which resulted in me learning sign language to communicate. It also caused all my friends to distance themselves from me. No one had time to bother learning sign language when there were boys and makeup and parties to deal with. Once a popular girl, I quickly became ostracized and learned to spend much time by myself.
As I got older, I became more accustomed to my situation and learned how to make friends in my own way. I still spent a lot of time by myself but it didn't bother me in the least. After getting a job as an editorial assistant in New York City, I moved to Hoboken and spent much of my time exploring and learning. I soaked up as much as I could read, becoming interested in all sorts of subjects. It caused me to become habitually distracted when I would traverse my way through the city. That was how I met Oscar.
As I walked along the street, I scrolled through my phone and only glanced up occasionally to make sure I wasn't about to walk into the middle of traffic. While distracted by an interesting article from MIT about immune engineering, I ran into something or someone solid and began to fall. I let out a small screech and flailed my arms in an attempt to keep upright. Unfortunately, the first thing my fingers grabbed was someone's arm. I pulled them down with me and they landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of me. Damn, they were solid.
My victim scrambled off of me and to their feet in panic. I glanced up to see an athletic looking man with slightly curly brown hair, a brown tweed jacket and square glasses perched on his nose offering me his hand.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I stared at him in shock, ignoring his extended hand. Had I just heard him speak or was it my imagination?
"Um, miss? Are you okay?" he asked again, beginning to look uncomfortable.
I took his hand and he helped me up, my face still frozen in wonderment. Everything else around me was silent except for him. I didn't hear the sounds of traffic or the city or the whispers of those around us who had witnessed my clumsiness.
"I can hear you!" I said to him in hushed tones of amazement.
He releasing my hand, he gave me a confused look.
"You can hear me?" he repeated.
"Yes!"
I knew I was speaking loudly. I tended to do that since losing my hearing because I was unable to determine how loud I was actually talking. But even if I did know, I would have still spoken loudly. It had been almost 11 years since I physically heard someone else's voice.
"Ummm."
"I've been fully deaf for the last 10 years," I told him, excitedly. "Your voice is the only voice I've heard since I lost my hearing."
The man's eyes widened and a his mouth formed a small 'o' in surprise. I needed to know this man. He could be the only person in the world I could ever hear.
"I'm Maise. This is going to sound unbelievably strange and slightly awkward but, will you come get coffee with me?" I asked.
"Oh, wow. You're right, that is slightly awkward and unbelievably strange," he said, one hand running through his mop of curls and the other gripping his messenger bag strap nervously.
"I'm sorry," I said, tumbling over my words. "It's just been so long since I've heard someone's voice. I-- I need to speak with you. Please."
"I mean, I guess I could," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Oscar."
Later, in the dimness of my favorite coffee shop, I stared at Oscar in wonder as he told me about himself. He was a high school English teacher who also lived in Hoboken with a cat and an annoying roommate. I barely picked at my muffin as I just listened to the sound that flowed from his mouth. His voice had a pleasant timbre to it, though, to be honest, even it if were the worst voice in the world I would have loved it.
"I know I'm making a total fool of myself," I told him when he paused for breath. "But I could listen to you talk all day."
Oscar let out a cheerful laugh and smiled.
"Well, this is certainly turning out to be an interesting day," he said. "You speak very well for being deaf."
As happy I was to be able to hear someone speak, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Everyone seemed to think all deaf people had difficulty speaking.
"Most people ares surprised that I speak so clearly, but I did have 15 years of hearing and speaking. I'm deaf, not stupid."
Oscar winced slightly at my comment.
"And blunt," he added, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Yeah, force of habit," I said, draining the last of my drink. Peeking at my watch, I saw it was late. "Yikes, I don't want to miss the next train home. Wanna head back to Jersey?"
He nodded and got to his feet, throwing out our cups and opening the door for me. When we got outside, I stopped and turned to face him.
"Oscar, I desperately want to be your friend."
He offered me his arm.
"Well, Maise, I think I would like that."
I could hear the smile in his voice, not just see the one that was dazzling me. I let out a laugh. I could hear someone.
Since I was 15, silence has been my constant companion. No one can tell me why my hearing mysteriously disappeared 10 years ago. I've been poked and prodded by a thousand different doctors all over the world and not a one can even give me a diagnosis. My parents tried everything they could but to no avail, which resulted in me learning sign language to communicate. It also caused all my friends to distance themselves from me. No one had time to bother learning sign language when there were boys and makeup and parties to deal with. Once a popular girl, I quickly became ostracized and learned to spend much time by myself.
As I got older, I became more accustomed to my situation and learned how to make friends in my own way. I still spent a lot of time by myself but it didn't bother me in the least. After getting a job as an editorial assistant in New York City, I moved to Hoboken and spent much of my time exploring and learning. I soaked up as much as I could read, becoming interested in all sorts of subjects. It caused me to become habitually distracted when I would traverse my way through the city. That was how I met Oscar.
As I walked along the street, I scrolled through my phone and only glanced up occasionally to make sure I wasn't about to walk into the middle of traffic. While distracted by an interesting article from MIT about immune engineering, I ran into something or someone solid and began to fall. I let out a small screech and flailed my arms in an attempt to keep upright. Unfortunately, the first thing my fingers grabbed was someone's arm. I pulled them down with me and they landed on top of me, knocking the wind out of me. Damn, they were solid.
My victim scrambled off of me and to their feet in panic. I glanced up to see an athletic looking man with slightly curly brown hair, a brown tweed jacket and square glasses perched on his nose offering me his hand.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I stared at him in shock, ignoring his extended hand. Had I just heard him speak or was it my imagination?
"Um, miss? Are you okay?" he asked again, beginning to look uncomfortable.
I took his hand and he helped me up, my face still frozen in wonderment. Everything else around me was silent except for him. I didn't hear the sounds of traffic or the city or the whispers of those around us who had witnessed my clumsiness.
"I can hear you!" I said to him in hushed tones of amazement.
He releasing my hand, he gave me a confused look.
"You can hear me?" he repeated.
"Yes!"
I knew I was speaking loudly. I tended to do that since losing my hearing because I was unable to determine how loud I was actually talking. But even if I did know, I would have still spoken loudly. It had been almost 11 years since I physically heard someone else's voice.
"Ummm."
"I've been fully deaf for the last 10 years," I told him, excitedly. "Your voice is the only voice I've heard since I lost my hearing."
The man's eyes widened and a his mouth formed a small 'o' in surprise. I needed to know this man. He could be the only person in the world I could ever hear.
"I'm Maise. This is going to sound unbelievably strange and slightly awkward but, will you come get coffee with me?" I asked.
"Oh, wow. You're right, that is slightly awkward and unbelievably strange," he said, one hand running through his mop of curls and the other gripping his messenger bag strap nervously.
"I'm sorry," I said, tumbling over my words. "It's just been so long since I've heard someone's voice. I-- I need to speak with you. Please."
"I mean, I guess I could," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Oscar."
Later, in the dimness of my favorite coffee shop, I stared at Oscar in wonder as he told me about himself. He was a high school English teacher who also lived in Hoboken with a cat and an annoying roommate. I barely picked at my muffin as I just listened to the sound that flowed from his mouth. His voice had a pleasant timbre to it, though, to be honest, even it if were the worst voice in the world I would have loved it.
"I know I'm making a total fool of myself," I told him when he paused for breath. "But I could listen to you talk all day."
Oscar let out a cheerful laugh and smiled.
"Well, this is certainly turning out to be an interesting day," he said. "You speak very well for being deaf."
As happy I was to be able to hear someone speak, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Everyone seemed to think all deaf people had difficulty speaking.
"Most people ares surprised that I speak so clearly, but I did have 15 years of hearing and speaking. I'm deaf, not stupid."
Oscar winced slightly at my comment.
"And blunt," he added, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Yeah, force of habit," I said, draining the last of my drink. Peeking at my watch, I saw it was late. "Yikes, I don't want to miss the next train home. Wanna head back to Jersey?"
He nodded and got to his feet, throwing out our cups and opening the door for me. When we got outside, I stopped and turned to face him.
"Oscar, I desperately want to be your friend."
He offered me his arm.
"Well, Maise, I think I would like that."
I could hear the smile in his voice, not just see the one that was dazzling me. I let out a laugh. I could hear someone.
Saturday, June 4, 2016
All Sorts of Nope
This prompt is absolutely hilarious! I've seen a similar comic and loved it.
Harumi cursed as she held up a lock of her hair. She was absolutely doomed. Everyone knew that having outrageously colored hair was a bad sign. And she had the bad luck of having unadulterated sapphire curls. Thus far, in her 15 years, all it had ever done was cause problems. It made her the target of every trope known to man. After she had given birth, her mother took one look at her bright blue hair and had a nervous break down. At least it had only been a nervous break down rather than just packing up and leaving. It would have added to an already tragic backstory.
She avoided as many potential story plots as possible. As a young child, she had been been approached by a talking deer with "a magical quest." Later that day, she and her father had a nice venison stew. The locket with a mysterious stone her aunt had given her with a cryptic message when she was 12 was pawned to buy an iPod. Today in school, a new student arrived and immediately wanted to befriend her. She quickly put him in his place by having the biggest boy in school beat the ever living snot out of him. Though, Harumi had built a minor criminal enterprise in an effort to avoid being a main character. That in itself made her a protagonist.
When Harumi reached her house, she kicked off her shoes and stopped into her father's study.
"Whoa, what is the matter?" her father asked as she threw herself onto the couch in the room.
"This!" she yelled, holding up a blue curl. "This stupid hair."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," he said, putting down his pen and leaning on his desk. "I don't know what to tell you, Harumi. It is just the way the world works apparently."
"Way the world works," she mumbled, yanking a piece of hair.
"I didn't ask to some how end up as the main character in idiotic adventures," she said to her father.
"Trust me, we didn't ask for this either, Harumi."
Harumi when to whine again but was interrupted by a knock on the door. She got up and went to see who was at her door. As she opened it, a handsome redheaded boy was waiting on the step.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Fair maiden, my name is Prince Letrick and I come from a far away country," the boy said. "I have been overthrown and am in need of someone with a cunning and brutal mind. Rumor has it that you would be that mind. Will you aid me in my quest to reclaim my throne."
Harumi looked at the young prince.
"Ah, hell."
Harumi cursed as she held up a lock of her hair. She was absolutely doomed. Everyone knew that having outrageously colored hair was a bad sign. And she had the bad luck of having unadulterated sapphire curls. Thus far, in her 15 years, all it had ever done was cause problems. It made her the target of every trope known to man. After she had given birth, her mother took one look at her bright blue hair and had a nervous break down. At least it had only been a nervous break down rather than just packing up and leaving. It would have added to an already tragic backstory.
She avoided as many potential story plots as possible. As a young child, she had been been approached by a talking deer with "a magical quest." Later that day, she and her father had a nice venison stew. The locket with a mysterious stone her aunt had given her with a cryptic message when she was 12 was pawned to buy an iPod. Today in school, a new student arrived and immediately wanted to befriend her. She quickly put him in his place by having the biggest boy in school beat the ever living snot out of him. Though, Harumi had built a minor criminal enterprise in an effort to avoid being a main character. That in itself made her a protagonist.
When Harumi reached her house, she kicked off her shoes and stopped into her father's study.
"Whoa, what is the matter?" her father asked as she threw herself onto the couch in the room.
"This!" she yelled, holding up a blue curl. "This stupid hair."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," he said, putting down his pen and leaning on his desk. "I don't know what to tell you, Harumi. It is just the way the world works apparently."
"Way the world works," she mumbled, yanking a piece of hair.
"I didn't ask to some how end up as the main character in idiotic adventures," she said to her father.
"Trust me, we didn't ask for this either, Harumi."
Harumi when to whine again but was interrupted by a knock on the door. She got up and went to see who was at her door. As she opened it, a handsome redheaded boy was waiting on the step.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Fair maiden, my name is Prince Letrick and I come from a far away country," the boy said. "I have been overthrown and am in need of someone with a cunning and brutal mind. Rumor has it that you would be that mind. Will you aid me in my quest to reclaim my throne."
Harumi looked at the young prince.
"Ah, hell."
Thursday, June 2, 2016
A Life for a Life
Quick prompt this time. We all would like to think we're good enough people to sacrifice ourselves for others, but in reality, I think most of us are of the thought, someone else will do it and that's how situations like Kitty Genovese happen.
I never thought I would be on the pavement bleeding out. Granted, I also didn't think I was the kind of person who would stand up for someone I didn't know. But low and behold, I apparently was and that's how I ended up stabbed.
I had always thought I would be the kind of person who would do whatever they could for strangers until a grew up and realized no one would care of thank you. But this man had been harassing this young woman and something in me just snapped. He was being cruel and threatening and I decided that I had seen enough, praise be damned.
By my altruistic intentions had been my undoing. In my fading vision, I saw the young woman sobbing over me. She was pressing my wounds with as much pressure as she could to staunch the bleeding. I tried to tell her it was okay and that I was happy she was safe but it came out as a gurgling breath.
In the last few minutes, I had come to terms with the fact I would die. And I was surprisingly at peace with it. I had saved someone else's life and that was that was the most important thing. The women kept whispering "thank you" in my ear as everything went in and out of focus. As I felt the last bit of life run out of me, I managed a brief smile before being swallowed by darkness.
I never thought I would be on the pavement bleeding out. Granted, I also didn't think I was the kind of person who would stand up for someone I didn't know. But low and behold, I apparently was and that's how I ended up stabbed.
I had always thought I would be the kind of person who would do whatever they could for strangers until a grew up and realized no one would care of thank you. But this man had been harassing this young woman and something in me just snapped. He was being cruel and threatening and I decided that I had seen enough, praise be damned.
By my altruistic intentions had been my undoing. In my fading vision, I saw the young woman sobbing over me. She was pressing my wounds with as much pressure as she could to staunch the bleeding. I tried to tell her it was okay and that I was happy she was safe but it came out as a gurgling breath.
In the last few minutes, I had come to terms with the fact I would die. And I was surprisingly at peace with it. I had saved someone else's life and that was that was the most important thing. The women kept whispering "thank you" in my ear as everything went in and out of focus. As I felt the last bit of life run out of me, I managed a brief smile before being swallowed by darkness.
REMEMBER 3112
I've been working more on Iona and Bjarke's story but nothing that really will be posted right yet. I will post something soon though. I promise. This prompt was based on a dream original poster's had and I had a pretty interesting and possibly story worthy dream. I just need to write it down. I hope you enjoy this story!
The cry of gulls overhead and a gentle rocking is what woke him up. The man groaned in pain, eyes fluttering open and rolled over. Blue skies and a sail greeted him and he sat up in alarm.
"What the--"
He looked around him. How had he ended up on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean? There was no land in sight and his head ached. The man put his hand to his head, feeling a large lump. Rust colored flakes coated his fingers. Dried blood. He must have hit his head somehow. It was then he noticed gauze and tape around his wrist.
Peeling off the bandage, it revealed a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. The skin around the simple statement was red, indicating it was very recent. All the tattoo said was "REMEMBER: 3112" in bold, black lettering. The man stared at the phrase, thinking hard. It made no sense, but then again none of this did. He couldn't remember anything. His name, what he did, how he had gotten on the sloop. He knew he could navigate and sail the boat to get to land. But he couldn't remember anything about himself.
The man got to his feet and paced the deck of the sloop, the sun beating down on him. Before he did anything, he needed to find his way to land. Glancing around, he finally noticed a set of stairs leading below deck. He had been so distracted by his predicament, he had missed them. Taking them, he found himself in a small space with a table, bench and mini refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of water and took several long pulls, draining it in seconds.
This was a fairly modern boat and the man assumed it would have a navigation system somewhere. Going through the open doorway next to the mini fridge, he found himself in what appeared to be a cramped bedroom. Sitting on the neatly made twin bed appeared to be a gray cell phone, .22 caliber pistol and a piece of paper. The man picked the electronic up. It was a Garmin GPSMAP 78 GPS. Well, this would be helpful. Picking up the handgun and feeling its weight, he threw a quick glance at the slip of paper. In the same bold handwriting as his tattoo, it read: "This should help. Good luck, Poe."
The note wasn't signed and gave no other indications. Poe... The man thought the name seemed familiar but whether or not it was his first name or his last was still beyond him. The fact there was a gun sitting on the bed was unnerving, but he was positive he had used a similar gun before. Tucking it in his waistband, Poe powered up the GPS and headed up to the top deck, making his way to the wheel. He would figure out what had happened to him and why he had ended up on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean. One way or another.
The cry of gulls overhead and a gentle rocking is what woke him up. The man groaned in pain, eyes fluttering open and rolled over. Blue skies and a sail greeted him and he sat up in alarm.
"What the--"
He looked around him. How had he ended up on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean? There was no land in sight and his head ached. The man put his hand to his head, feeling a large lump. Rust colored flakes coated his fingers. Dried blood. He must have hit his head somehow. It was then he noticed gauze and tape around his wrist.
Peeling off the bandage, it revealed a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. The skin around the simple statement was red, indicating it was very recent. All the tattoo said was "REMEMBER: 3112" in bold, black lettering. The man stared at the phrase, thinking hard. It made no sense, but then again none of this did. He couldn't remember anything. His name, what he did, how he had gotten on the sloop. He knew he could navigate and sail the boat to get to land. But he couldn't remember anything about himself.
The man got to his feet and paced the deck of the sloop, the sun beating down on him. Before he did anything, he needed to find his way to land. Glancing around, he finally noticed a set of stairs leading below deck. He had been so distracted by his predicament, he had missed them. Taking them, he found himself in a small space with a table, bench and mini refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle of water and took several long pulls, draining it in seconds.
This was a fairly modern boat and the man assumed it would have a navigation system somewhere. Going through the open doorway next to the mini fridge, he found himself in what appeared to be a cramped bedroom. Sitting on the neatly made twin bed appeared to be a gray cell phone, .22 caliber pistol and a piece of paper. The man picked the electronic up. It was a Garmin GPSMAP 78 GPS. Well, this would be helpful. Picking up the handgun and feeling its weight, he threw a quick glance at the slip of paper. In the same bold handwriting as his tattoo, it read: "This should help. Good luck, Poe."
The note wasn't signed and gave no other indications. Poe... The man thought the name seemed familiar but whether or not it was his first name or his last was still beyond him. The fact there was a gun sitting on the bed was unnerving, but he was positive he had used a similar gun before. Tucking it in his waistband, Poe powered up the GPS and headed up to the top deck, making his way to the wheel. He would figure out what had happened to him and why he had ended up on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean. One way or another.
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