I remember them. I remember the night that I came face to face with the single most horrifyingly interesting entity anyone will ever get to meet. I didn’t mean to. In fact, I wasn’t supposed to. Had they not appeared on that fateful night, I’m not sure I would have ever gotten the chance again.
Most stories begin with a legend. Some fable, an abandoned area, or one that’s off limits. They had no tale. No one knew they existed until the night I decided to do the most for my dad.
That night, the sky held stars and deep clouds that scattered around in a deep abyss. The water was warm as I rowed my boat to the peninsula in the middle of the bog. He and I had always had our fair share of adventures around the bog. Fishing, building forts or furniture. We weren’t the most modern family, but we enjoyed it. Hot days weren’t hard to come by, and nights were more or less the same. Cicadas chirped and buzzed in the grasses. Everything was great, until the day he died of a heart attack. I didn’t know until the morning. I grieved for a few days, but was able to keep myself alive enough. That night on the boat had been the fifth night, and I decided it was time. The peninsula wasn’t close, and the two of us never went out there. I’m not sure we would have seen them out there had we gone any other night.
The lantern at my side was almost out as I drew closer to the peninsula, but the moonlight above me mostly guided my way. My boat gently nudged the shore, and I tied up my boat to a rickety, decaying block of wood. From the boat I pulled out the wooden cross that I had built myself just the day before. It wasn’t much. His name was engraved into it. I pulled another match from my pocket and lit the lantern, making sure I wouldn’t fall into pitch blackness under the shade of the trees. With the lantern in one hand and the cross in the other, I began my journey into the peninsula.
It was covered in trees, layers of moss, grass that almost reached my waist, and damp soil. The smell of moist summer air hung in my nose; a scent that I had grown comfortable with. He was getting old, my dad was. I wasn’t entirely surprised, but I wasn’t happy nonetheless. We moved out to the bog when my mom died in childbirth. The baby was dead before a proper procedure could be started to save them. The baby was going to be a girl. Rose, they had named her. My mother’s favorite flower. This may all seem a bit irrelevant, as the story began with them, but it’ll all come together in the end. I promise.
I slowed down at a clearing between trees where a small patch of moonlight laid calmly against the wet grass. The lantern sat close to it, its light flickering and casting an orange-yellow shadow across the ground. My knees hit the ground, dampening in the moist soil. I placed the cross firmly into the ground and knelt down in front of it. I can admit that I shed a couple tears, staring down at his name on that moonlight patch of a peninsula. Had I had the money, I would’ve done more. Though I don’t think he would have wanted more, it’s what he deserved. I sat there for a few more minutes, reminiscing on our greatest memories. A couple times I whispered to myself - or who I like to think was my dad - and chuckled at my own memories. Finally, I stood up, not bothering to wipe off my knees. I grabbed the lantern from the ground, spoke my final goodbyes, and walked away. It was hard to grasp what life would be like without him. I was seventeen at the time, and would be eighteen in only a few months from that night. I could handle myself, but having to do it all myself was a bit overwhelming. Life would be lonely. Sad.
The boat barely came into view, as now clouds were over the moon. The lantern in my hand blew out silently with the wind, plunging me into darkness. I let out a sigh and fumbled into my pocket for the matches. Another, more irritated sigh escaped my lips as my fingers grazed a piece of paper. I had written my dad a note to put at his cross, but had forgotten about it. I quickly lit the lantern again before beginning my trek back. As I approached the cross, the moon escaped from behind the clouds. Standing in front of my dad’s cross stood a figure. I froze and looked up at them. They wore a bear’s head on their own and stood with a dark, leather jacket and a pair of ripped jeans. A bandage was wrapped around their right thigh. They stood with their hands in their pockets, looking down at my father’s cross.
“Hey,” I called. “What are you doing?”
They looked up slowly, then turned around to face me. The bear’s bottom jaw sat on their collar, as the bear’s paws draped over their shoulders. Their face sat in darkness behind a few bars that kept the jaw open. I couldn’t make out any features.
“I said what are you doing? Who are you?”
They said nothing, only looked at me. The bear’s left eye was scratched out with three, pale pink scratch marks. It looked real. Thinking about them, I think it was.
The anger I felt for them was beginning to slip into sadness. I just wanted to give my dad a proper burial, or as proper as I could handmake one. This random person was standing over it. Judging it. I pulled the folded and slightly crumpled note and held it out for them to see.
“I just need to drop this note off,” I called. “Can you go? Please?” They looked at the note for a moment, not saying anything. They then held out their hand, a hand that sat pale, almost grey in the moonlight.
“What? No, you can’t have it. Can’t I just have some alone time with my dad? Please?” Their hand faltered as they gazed back to the cross. “Yeah, my dad. He died.” When they turned back, it was at that moment I believe I heard them speak. Through the wind came the word, how. I thought I was hearing things, but at that moment I didn’t think it could hurt anyone to just tell them.
“He… had a heart attack in his sleep.” I stayed silent, as I wasn’t sure if that was the right answer. If I had just thought I heard them speak. It seemed to be the right answer. They held out their hand again.
“Tell me who you are.” In that moment, I felt it. I felt something I knew I should’ve felt a long time ago. Like a prerequisite from a dream. Something you just know, without being exposed to any of the events or information. I hadn’t noticed that tears had begun to flow from my eyes. I couldn’t utter her name. I slowly walked up to them and placed the note in their hand. They opened it and looked down at it. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t muster up the words to say anything in that moment. They finished reading the note and closed it. They placed it into my hand and placed my other hand over the paper. Their hands were cold, yet warm and comforting the same time. They felt empty with an aura of emotion. They moved aside and looked down at the cross. I walked forward and placed it down. I stood up and whipped around to face them.
“Are,” I mumbled. I quickly cleared my throat. “Are you…”
They waited for me to finish my sentence, and when I didn’t finish, they shook their head no.
“What are you?”
They never answered that question. They looked up at the moon, and then back at me. In one swift movement, they turned around, a jet black smoke appearing from below them. It surrounded them in a quick tornado, and when the smoke dissipated, they were gone, leaving me standing in the clearing. The moonlight shone down on me and my tears.
“Rose,” I whispered, finally able to utter her name.
I didn’t know how. I still don’t. Yet, somehow I knew that they were Rose. Well, they weren’t Rose. It’s a bit hard to explain, as not even I know what really happened that night.
Some cases I’ve heard about them came up at various times, and I was always quick to look into them when I got the chance. Some people called them “death himself”. Others referred to them as a guardian. I don’t believe any of it. One thing was for certain, they used the word “soul” a lot. How the souls of people they knew were attached to that being.
I referred to them as Soul after that, and would frequently return to that spot at my dad’s grave, both to visit him and try to find Soul. I was never able to find them again, but being able to feel the soul of my dead sister was an experience I won’t ever forget, as long as I live. Whatever happened that night, wherever Rose really was, I hope I end up there with her. I hope I learn what Soul is. I hope I find out what happened on that humid summer night out on the peninsula.
Not too crowded today. It was around noon, and a few small crews and bandits sat around the tavern. The air smelled of damp wood and men without showers, though no one could trace it back to just one. The bar itself was stuck with a mix of booze and spit.
Despite the interior most would call disgusting and unsanitary, Captain Roman Horolog was proud to call it home. He bragged time and time again about his reputation. His popularity among most of the crews in Torengrave was a badge of honor. It was a common story he told that he was able to walk onto any ship and start a conversation, free of arguments. Whether or not that was really true, no one really knew. However, they weren’t that interested either. Horolog wore the colors of brown and gold, regularly dressed in a long overcoat, a vest, and boots. A silk scarf of gold was wrapped around his waist. His face held a neatly trimmed beard on his youthful face. Appearance was everything with a reputation like his.
One seat at a table near the back corner held a man Horolog recognized. His crew was beginning to get tipsy, so he excused himself over to the man. The poor man had glossy eyes, and his hair held tints of black in between the white hair and scraggly beard upon his face. His face was covered in blemishes, and his outfit was no more than a deep navy rain coat and a wrinkled shirt. Even the coat had obviously seen the sea more than once.
Horolog pulled a chair from the table and sat in it backwards.
“Captain Circinus,” he began. “Back in town again?”
“Never left,” he replied. Whether or not he was smiling, Horolog couldn’t tell.
“Is it that time of the year now?”
Everyone who sailed the sea knew the tale. The ship had no name. The crew did not speak. If you saw it on water, it was already too late. The ship was a myth, but Circinus was told to be the only survivor. He stated it time and time again, but would never go into details. He gripped the empty glass at his table.
“You stay out of that sea now, you hear.” Circinus’s voice wasn’t mean, but he could be a bit threatening. Horolog chuckled and stood. He placed one foot on the chair and leaned on it.
“Attention lads,” he called. “Tonight, the crew of the Pendulum will be lead by me, Captain Roman Horolog into Silent Man’s Demise.”
Everyone cheered, clinking their glasses against one another. Half of them were too drunk to really understand what Horolog had said. Circinus didn’t respond. He didn’t make eye contact. Horolog looked back at him with a sly smirk.
“I’ll live to tell the tail, Circinus,” he explained. “I promise.” He mumbled something under his breath, but Horolog couldn’t hear over the shouting of men.
The tale had been told like a riddle, and most people believed the answer was death. Circinus, however, had assured Horolog it wasn’t death, but wouldn’t give him the answer. Instead, he explained there was no answer at all. It wasn’t a riddle. It was a warning. No one believed him. If anything, most believed Circinus was just a crazy old man that just had fun scaring crews for the night.
“Can I get you a drink,” asked Horolog. The request came out as more of a sly response than he had intended. Circinus very loosely waved him away, and Horolog chuckled. “I’ll get you the usual.”
He walked away, tapping on the bartender’s desk. As he waited for the drink, he turned to the door. Through the slightly open door, a sunset fell through. They needed to get onto the Pendulum and head out if they were going to make it in time. A drink was placed down in front of him, and he tipped his hat at the bartender with a quick smirk. He turned back to Circinus with the drink in his hand. Circinus was gone. Horolog took a second to register, then quickly looked around. He wasn’t anywhere in the tavern. One of his crew members took the drink from his hand, already drunk beyond repair. Horolog laughs and pulled a chair from one of the full tables. The men all drunkenly watched as he unsheathed his cutlass.
“Tonight men,” he began, his voice ringing through the tavern, “the mighty crew and captain of the Pendulum dance with death, and we shall return to tell of her face!”
With a cheer, he plunged his fist in the air, followed by the empty or half full beer steins of the other pirates.
The sky was filled with white lights of stars, accompanied by a full moon. The Pendulum rode across the seas as calm waves were pushed beside by its appearance. Horolog’s heart was pounding in his chest as he stood at the forecastle deck. They were going to find this “ship” and it’s unspoken “crew”. He would return finally to tell the tale in full description of what these seas were really haunted by, or debunk centuries of pirate tales told by a quiet old man.
“Alright men,” he called, beginning down the stairs. “Keep on course. We should arrive shortly.”
A few of the crew members had begun to look over the rails, eyeing something that had been in the water. As another member would join each of them, chatter would start between them. They all seemed confused, almost scared. After a few minutes of conversation, and seemingly no answer to whatever questions they pondered, they returned to their work.
Horolog checked his pocket watch. 11:57, roughly. His heart was racing in his chest. He was aware of the fact that everything he was told could in fact be a lie. The entire quest he and his crew were embarking on. It could all be another pirate’s tale. He kept it in the back of his mind.
“Captain,” called a crew member. “The crew has been spotting some strange objects beneath the water. They’re large, and every so often, they would move. Waves would run across the surface, subtle but there. Whatever it is has been getting closer to the surface every hour.”
Horolog turned with an excited grin across his face.
“It must mean that we’re getting close,” he explained, dropping a rough hand on the young man’s shoulder. Around them, the crew all stood in their own groups. Quiet chatter ran through them all. A few fidgeted with hands or clothing items, their eyes running across the open water. Some had requested to go back, but not to the captain’s face. The clock was ticking in his hand, his sweaty palm clutched around the pure silver backing.
Horolog remembered his first meeting with Circinus, the day he first learned about the tale. It was a warm day in the middle of June. His crew had docked for a few supplies, although most planned on eating at restaurants or talking up the ladies of the land. Horolog had wandered into the tavern, looking for a resupply of booze. Every pirate had it on their ship. They claimed it was for celebrations when they came back from a successful mission, but it seemed to disappear faster than they were completing them. In the back corner of the tavern, Circinus sat quietly. He was surrounded by a group of wasted pirates, yelling and arguing with the man. Horolog liked to think himself a decent man, so he strode over to them.
“Excuse me,” he called, pulling shoulders to move men out of the way. “What seems to be the trouble, lads?”
“Old Circinus here is trying to ‘warn’ us about something,” began one of the larger men, but won’t tell us what!”
“It obviously couldn’t be that important if he won’t even share a few pirate tales. How about you men get yourselves another drink, save the sea exploring for later.”
The men were too drunk to argue, already beginning to cackle again at anything that slipped off their tongues. Horolog turned back to Circinus, his eyes seemingly faded but not enough to cause alarm.
“Captain Roman Horolog,” he began, holding out a hand with a confident smirk. “Captain of the Pendulum.” Circinus very slowly, only slightly glanced up at him. Horolog couldn’t even seem to tell if he was breathing.
“Do you believe me,” he asked, lips barely moving. Horolog hesitated. Between his own concern and lack of knowledge, he couldn’t answer right away. He pulled out a chair and turned it backwards. He dropped into it, leaning his arms on the back of it. Circinus’s head followed him slowly.
“Why don’t you tell me the tale you told them. Then I can tell you what I believe.” He couldn’t tell if he heard him at first, as there was no response.
“The ship had no name. The crew did not speak. If you saw it on water, it was already too late.”
Horolog let out a chuckle, adjusting his place in his seat.
“Is that a riddle? A good man, giving us all a puzzle to solve, as all good treasures have. You know, there’s no adventure without-”
“A warning,” interrupted Circinus. The sudden raise in his voice sent a chill down Horolog’s spine. It was the loudest he had heard the man speak.
“A… A warning. Warning for what?”
“Don’t go onto the sea when the clock strikes twelve. Stay away from the sea, stay away, do you hear me?”
A few men from nearby tables had turned to see what the commotion was about, but were quickly disinterested. Horolog was curious, but wasn’t getting enough information.
“What have you seen, my good man,” he asked, his voice barely quieter than before. “Ghosts? Sirens? Davy Jones?”
Circinus’s attention seemed to draw farther away. There was no indication of thought, but he didn’t seem lost.
“Don’t look for me when I leave tonight,” came his voice. Horolog had almost lost the words in the bustling chatter of the men around them.
“Where are you-” Before he could finish, a hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him from the chair.
“Everything’s all set, captain,” explained the thin, wiry face of one of his crewmates. “We’re good to leave.”
“In a moment, I’m asking this lad about his tales.” When he turned to look at Circinus again, he was gone. He scanned the rest of the tavern once over. No sign of him.
“How much have you been drinking, Captain.” His crewmate let out a playful chuckle as he began to pull his toward the door. “Let’s get going.”
It began to happen annually. Circinus would return, in the same spot at the back of the tavern. Every year Horolog would ask him again, or make a joke. Every year he received a riddle and a threat. Every year, Circinus disappeared without a trace, leaving Horolog with more questions than the year before. Now, it was time he found his own answers.
The clock struck midnight, and Horolog’s heart skipped a beat. The moment of truth. Seconds seemed to last minutes, and minutes seemed to last hours. How long had it really been? Suddenly, the crew ran to the left side of the ship. Water beneath them began to separate into a few ways. The crew’s thoughts were given a voice. Some were scared. Others were excited. The sight they saw was like none other.
The bow of a ship emerged from the deep blue waters. The conversations everyone stopped abruptly. All eyes laid on the boat that emerged from the waters, creating waves from its massive size. It had to be almost two times the size of The Pendulum. Its wood was a deep teal. No name sat across the side. Even Horolog was frozen. No emotion was set on his face but a half open mouth. The crew members cast a deep teal as well. They moved slowly, although they seemed not to be moving at all. The ship glided very slowly across the surface of the water. Horolog shook his head and jumped onto the railing of his own ship, his hand firmly wrapped around the shrouds.
“Ahoy,” he called with a wave of his hand. “I am Captain Roman Horolog of The Pendulum, and this is my crew. I request permission to board your ship, alone and unarmed.”
His crew gave him all confused glances. Unarmed? The ship gave no response one way or another. Their heads of sea kept locks stayed down, covering most or all of their faces.
“Captain,” came one of the crew member’s quiet voices. “I don’t think you should.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
With his response, he pulled back and launched himself onto the ship. He landed with both feet on the deck and a balance that stuck firm. The ship didn’t sway at his arrival. The crew didn’t seem to acknowledge his arrival. Horolog could see upon further investigation just how teal the men and women were. Their skin. Their wrinkled, rundown clothes that hung from their lanky bodies. What had he gotten himself into.
“Excuse me,” he began, not talking to one in particular as he strode across the deck. “I’m looking to speak to your captain. I have many, many questions for him. Unless, you all can answer!”
They responded with nothing. Then, he remembered the riddle. The crew did not speak. Of course they didn’t. Horolog adjusted his overcoat and took a faster stride toward the back of the ship. Heads began to turn. He finally reached the captain’s quarters and stood only a foot from the door. It smelled of salt wet wood. He took a deep breath, knowing that whoever was behind this door held all the answers. Was it locked? Maybe one of them had the key.
“Excuse me, fine friends,” he began, turning around. “But do any of you have-“
He froze. All of the crew members were frozen as well. They all stared at him, their hand held out to him. What were they trying to do? Horolog’s heart was in his stomach, and he swallowed quickly as he slowly turned back to the door. Something was wrong, but if he didn’t take this chance now, would he ever have the chance to come back? Come back as what, Captain Roman Horolog, the man too scared to face the dreaded ship many men wished they’d found? He wasn’t going to back down now, with answers right in front of his nose. His hand clasped around the knob. It was crystallized from salt water. Had it been under all year? He stuck that question in his mind for things he would ask the captain. The knob turned slowly, but Horolog had to force it a few times to get it unstuck. Finally, he pulled it open. Confused at the sight in front of him, she closed his eyes and shook his head. It didn’t move. Not the table. Not Circinus sitting at the same table in the back corner of the tavern. It didn’t move. It looked all the same as it had earlier. He stepped in and looked around. It just looked like the tavern. The same wooden walls. The same deteriorating seats of the bar and the groups of men and women. Circinus didn’t seem to notice him as he walked over, taking a seat.
“Circinus,” he started. “I made it! I made it to the ship! I need to know, though. I have so many questions.”
“Roman,” began Circinus. He had never heard Circinus say his name. “I told you not to come here.”
“Here? Where is here? Circinus, what is this place? Why doesn’t anyone talk? Why did I just walk into the tavern?!” Horolog was as excited as he was scared, but the adrenaline fueled him. Who knew what kind of possibilities the ship held. It’s all he wanted. He craved it. Circinus stood up.
“You’re a great lad,” he began. “I didn’t want it to have to go like this for you.” He was serious. Horolog let out a laugh. A nervous laugh as he stood up.
“What are you talking about? Aren’t you going to answer any of my questions?” Circinus took one last longing look at Horolog. A sentimental, sorry look before walking toward the door. Horolog walked toward him, trying to grab his shoulder. He watched Circinus walk out, but suddenly, he appeared back on the dock of the ship. Now, however, the deep blue of the ocean surrounded him. His chest didn’t move up or down. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t drowning, either. He could see the light of the moon cast on the surface of the water above him, but it was too far. He was bound to the dock of the ship, along with the crew that stood. Why was he here? One thing sat certain, and he didn’t know how. He was the new captain of this ship. It was his duty now to command them all. On this ship that moved around a central point. A working clock.
Horolog sat at the back of the tavern in the same place Circinus had been the year previous. He gathered his thoughts from what he knew already. The ship was the hand in a clock that calculated a year. It moved every hour, but never seemed to surface. Not until today. He looked around frantically. His hat was torn, sections crystallized from his time in the deep sea. His overcoat’s brown and gold now held more bland shades of their previous color. His facial hair was unkempt, and the hair on his head had grown long with a similar unkempt appearance. He had been waiting for hours. Every time the doors open, he would immediately look. Where was he? The sun was beginning to set when Circinus walked into the tavern. He didn’t seem to notice Horolog at first. His beard was now trimmed, and his hair was cut shorter. His appearance held that of any other citizen in the town, an appearance Horolog had never seen on the man. He walked up to the bar and ordered a drink before he walked over to Horolog. Circinus’s eyes were no longer glazed over.
“Circinus,” started Horolog. “I… I am so sorry.”
“There was nothing more I could have done for you,” started Circinus, no longer sentimental. “I gave you and the rest of those who spoke to you a warning. Your curiosity would have killed you in the end, that was sure. I just never wanted you to end like this.” Horolog rose from his chair with shaking arms as he grabbed hold of Circinus’s new coat.
“Please… is there anything you can tell me about where I am? What all of this is?” Circinus looked Horolog in the eyes, almost hesitating to tell him.
“The ship had no name. The crew did not speak. If you saw it on water, it was already too late.”
