Rhode Island Summer - Chapter 1
Apparently I missed something. Sometime between the last time I posted and now it would seem that something unpleasant happened on Livejournal that resulted in a bunch of jounals being shut down or banned or something along those lines. Luckily, I was not among the affected (obviously). If anyone wants to fill me in, let me know in the comments. Otherwise, on with the summer fiction.
As you can see from the title of this entry, I've decided to call this story Rhode Island Summer. Because it takes place in Rhode Island. In the summertime. I have the basic storyline in my head, but I'll be making the details up (or pulling them from the headlines) as I go along. It seemed to work for Robot Wars, hopefully it'll work again here. Without further ado...
Bobby Castiglione was having a rough day.
He knew it was going to be a rough day when he'd decided to take a trip out to the ocean with his wife, Flavia. It was a beautiful day, the sea was a smooth as glass, and there was just enough of a breeze to take the edge off of the early summer heat. The sheer perfection of the day only underscored the fact that he had bought a boat so he could use days like this to escape from Flavia.
"Bobby, the boat's rockin' again!" she whined from the wheelhouse. Though "wheelhouse" was relative, since Bobby's boat was merely a twenty five-foot sport boat. Much too small a vessel to share with his wife.
"We're out on the sea, dear. This is a calm as it gets," he replied in a Cranston accent nearly as thick as hers. He was trying to sound calm, but was mentally counting to ten as he flicked his fishing rod, casting out to stern. Mabye I'll at least get a good striper out of this, he thought.
"How much longer are we gonna be out here? I'm gonna get a mother of a sunburn."
Not on your face, you're not, Bobby thought, gritting his teeth. His wife's face was positively caked with makeup, ensuring that no ultraviolet ray would penetrate to the skin.
Flavia almost never left Cranston, and Bobby was sure that was because she would die if she were outside of her natural habitat too long. Aside from having her face painted like she was going to be walking the streets, her hair was done up in a massive beehive that added nearly eight inches to her height. A pair of hoop earrings large enough for a seal to leap through rounded out her typical look. He'd warned her that she was overdressing for being out on the water, but she didn't care. Flavia had to look like Flavia.
Bobby was contemplating that in ten years of marriage he'd probably never actually seen her natural hair color when the tip of his fishing rod arched sharply downward, signifying a bite. He pulled on the rod quickly, setting the hook, and the fight was on.
"I got a bite, honey!" he exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder. Flavia, for her part, just looked bored. No moral support there.
He reeled the struggling fish close to the boat. It seemed to be tiring. He pulled on the rod to deliver the coup de gras, and caught a fleeting glimpse of the largest striped bass he'd ever seen before line released pressure abruptly and the hook went sailing out of the water and into the air. It landed next to Flavia's bare left foot. The fish took a look at the boat and then disappeared into the clear blue water.
"God dammit!" Bobby howled.
"Bobby, watch that hook! I coulda gotten impaled!" Flavia shouted, suddenly realizing the hook was right next to her and scrambling to get her feet away from it.
"Just pay attention and you'll be fine," he grumbled as he opened up the cooler for more bait.
* * *
Below the surface, a traveler was returning to Rhode Island for the summer.
The fifteen-foot great white shark cruised silently at thirty feet of depth. He had followed the migrating shoals of fish into Rhode Island Sound the same way it and thousands of other sharks had for millions of years. Today he was stalking a school of large striped bass that was leading it closer and close to the mouth of Narragansett Bay. He held back from the school, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Suddenly, a large individual seperated from the school to snap at some small prey. After swallowing the item, it began to struggle as if snared on something. It's frantic thrashing sent vibrations through the water that played across the shark's lateral line. The great white had witnessed this behavior countless times before. The big bass was vulnerable, practically begging to be picked off.
He rushed in, jaws agape, and snapped like a steel trap over the wriggling fish. With a single jerk to the side, the shark severed the rest of the fish's body from its head. He swallowed the 3/4 of the striped bass down, and watched the head, gills, and pectoral fins get pulled to the surface towards a large, dark, floating shape. Satisfied with this quick bite, the great white swam on, following the telltale smells and sounds of the school.
* * *
Another couple was also out fishing.
A pair of common dolphins were also following the school of striped bass, not to eat the big fish themselves but to follow them to their feeding grounds, where there would be enough smaller fish to feed all. The large shark following the school had looked them over, but the dolphins made sure it knew they could see it, and it passed them by.
The male dolphin spotted the familar shape of a boat on the surface ahead and whistled to his mate. For some odd reason the strange land mammals that were carried around on these vessels always seemed delighted to see them, and would sometimes offer a handout. It couldn't hurt to try.
Ever the gentleman, he let his mate head up to the surface first. One day the two of them would breed and start their own pod, but first they had to eat well and fatten up for the ordeal of starting a family.
He watched his mate's silhouette approach that of the boat, then the relative silence of the ocean exploded. A loud percussive blast echoed and a cloud of red blossomed out from his mate, obscuring her outline. The dolphin frantically clicked and whistled, but got no response. He closed in, trying to neslte her up to the surface to breathe, and realized that he couldn't even feel her heartbeat. The dolphin let out a long, plaintive whine as his head broke the surface. Turning, he faced the pair of land mammals on the boat.
Clearly, they were a mated pair like him and his mate. The male stood there slack-jawed, holding some kind of double-tubed object. The female was next to him, making high-pitched noises in his ear. The dolphin couldn't bear to look at his mate's killers any longer and dove, coming up beside her sinking body.
As he watched his mate fade into the darkness, something stirred within the male dolphin. For too long had his kind been at the mercy of these capricious, tool-making animals from outside the ocean. His body trembled as adrenaline shot through his muscles. It was time for someone to do something about them. To make them fear the denizens of the sea.
The dolphin's heart filled with rage.
* * *
"Bobby, you just shot a dolphin!" Flavia screamed.
"Oh, shit," he muttered, lowering the shotgun. He and some of his friends had talked of shark fishing, so he had bought a shotgun to keep aboard in case they ever landed an unruly mako. Like the one he was sure had just stolen his fish.
"What the hell were you thinking!? What if someone finds out? Those things are protected!"
"Will you shut up Flavia! I'm tryin' to think!" Bobby shouted. Though the truth was, there wasn't much he could do.
"Oh my God, there's another one! Bobby, there were two of them!" Flavia exclaimed, rushing over to the side of the boat to peer into the water.
Bobby was just about to tell her that it was time to go back to shore when the water in front of her exploded with foam and blood. He saw the grey belly of the other dolphin rise into the air before it arched backwards and landed back in the water. Then he saw Flavia and nearly screamed.
Her body was still standing, but her head had nearly been torn off by the impact. Her face was caved in and unrecognizable. She stood for a couple seconds before her legs buckled and she collapsed over the side of the boat into the water.
"Ho... ly... shit..." Bobby gasped out. He wanted to look over the edge to see if she was alive, but for one thing he highly doubted it and for another he didn't want to be anywhere where he could be seen from under the water. The boat suddenly began to feel too small.
"Alright Bobby. You just need to turn on the engine and get outta here..." he whispered to himself as he inched towards the wheelhouse. He heard a splash to his left, and an ominous, evil sounding dolphin whistle. It's playing with me, he thought. Then he heard a hard impact to the underside of the boat.
Not wasting any time, Bobby turned the ignition. Just as the engine sputtered to life, the water to his right erupted as that homicidal dolphin launched itself into the boat. It landed hard, tipping the boat to the right. Bobby slipped on the deck, still wet with water and his wife's blood.
He landed hard on his side, smacking his forehead on the steering wheel as he fell. Pain shot up his leg, and he looked down to see the dolphins jaws closed around his ankle. He screamed as the needle-sharp teeth penetrated the skin and drew blood. The dolphin began jerking to the side, and Bobby was suprised to find that it was actually moving him across the deck. He'd had no idea these animals were so strong.
It was then that he realized just what it was doing. The engine was on, and as Bobby was moved across the deck, he was getting closer to where its spinning propellers churned the water.
"Fuck... you!" he gapsed as he kicked at the dolphin's head with his free foot. The dolphin leg go, then flopped towards him as he tried to get to his feet and find the shotgun. It kicked off the side of the boat and landed squarely on Bobby, hitting him with all the clumsy force of a football tackle. The impact drove them both off the side of the boat and into the water.
Bobby kicked to the surface and had time to gasp for air before the dolphin rammed him square in his gut. The air and a little of his lunch exploded out of his mouth as the dolphin carried him for about ten yards, then broke off. Bobby tried to tread water but could barely fight through the pain in his lower torso. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the running boat somewhere behind him. Looking around and not seeing any sign of his attacker, he began feebly trying to swim towards the sound.
The dolphin breached, landing on top of him and driving him underwater. After the initial sting of exposure to salt water, his eyes cleared and he could see the white bubbles where the propellers were spinning. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the dolphin was right behind him. Its beak hit him on the small of his back, but it wasn't a hard killing blow like the first impact. Then he realized it was pushing him. He looked foward again and saw the propeller blades mere inches away from his face. He slammed his eyes shut and wriggled in the water, trying to break the dolphin's push. In response, it gave one last flick of its flukes, driving him forward. Bobby Castiglione's world ended in a burst of pain and red water.
* * *
The dolphin circled his handiwork once, then sped off into the blue water. He followed the sound and chemical signals that lead him towards shallow water. His bloodlust was yet unfulfilled.
It was time to take the fight to them.
As you can see from the title of this entry, I've decided to call this story Rhode Island Summer. Because it takes place in Rhode Island. In the summertime. I have the basic storyline in my head, but I'll be making the details up (or pulling them from the headlines) as I go along. It seemed to work for Robot Wars, hopefully it'll work again here. Without further ado...
Bobby Castiglione was having a rough day.
He knew it was going to be a rough day when he'd decided to take a trip out to the ocean with his wife, Flavia. It was a beautiful day, the sea was a smooth as glass, and there was just enough of a breeze to take the edge off of the early summer heat. The sheer perfection of the day only underscored the fact that he had bought a boat so he could use days like this to escape from Flavia.
"Bobby, the boat's rockin' again!" she whined from the wheelhouse. Though "wheelhouse" was relative, since Bobby's boat was merely a twenty five-foot sport boat. Much too small a vessel to share with his wife.
"We're out on the sea, dear. This is a calm as it gets," he replied in a Cranston accent nearly as thick as hers. He was trying to sound calm, but was mentally counting to ten as he flicked his fishing rod, casting out to stern. Mabye I'll at least get a good striper out of this, he thought.
"How much longer are we gonna be out here? I'm gonna get a mother of a sunburn."
Not on your face, you're not, Bobby thought, gritting his teeth. His wife's face was positively caked with makeup, ensuring that no ultraviolet ray would penetrate to the skin.
Flavia almost never left Cranston, and Bobby was sure that was because she would die if she were outside of her natural habitat too long. Aside from having her face painted like she was going to be walking the streets, her hair was done up in a massive beehive that added nearly eight inches to her height. A pair of hoop earrings large enough for a seal to leap through rounded out her typical look. He'd warned her that she was overdressing for being out on the water, but she didn't care. Flavia had to look like Flavia.
Bobby was contemplating that in ten years of marriage he'd probably never actually seen her natural hair color when the tip of his fishing rod arched sharply downward, signifying a bite. He pulled on the rod quickly, setting the hook, and the fight was on.
"I got a bite, honey!" he exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder. Flavia, for her part, just looked bored. No moral support there.
He reeled the struggling fish close to the boat. It seemed to be tiring. He pulled on the rod to deliver the coup de gras, and caught a fleeting glimpse of the largest striped bass he'd ever seen before line released pressure abruptly and the hook went sailing out of the water and into the air. It landed next to Flavia's bare left foot. The fish took a look at the boat and then disappeared into the clear blue water.
"God dammit!" Bobby howled.
"Bobby, watch that hook! I coulda gotten impaled!" Flavia shouted, suddenly realizing the hook was right next to her and scrambling to get her feet away from it.
"Just pay attention and you'll be fine," he grumbled as he opened up the cooler for more bait.
* * *
Below the surface, a traveler was returning to Rhode Island for the summer.
The fifteen-foot great white shark cruised silently at thirty feet of depth. He had followed the migrating shoals of fish into Rhode Island Sound the same way it and thousands of other sharks had for millions of years. Today he was stalking a school of large striped bass that was leading it closer and close to the mouth of Narragansett Bay. He held back from the school, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Suddenly, a large individual seperated from the school to snap at some small prey. After swallowing the item, it began to struggle as if snared on something. It's frantic thrashing sent vibrations through the water that played across the shark's lateral line. The great white had witnessed this behavior countless times before. The big bass was vulnerable, practically begging to be picked off.
He rushed in, jaws agape, and snapped like a steel trap over the wriggling fish. With a single jerk to the side, the shark severed the rest of the fish's body from its head. He swallowed the 3/4 of the striped bass down, and watched the head, gills, and pectoral fins get pulled to the surface towards a large, dark, floating shape. Satisfied with this quick bite, the great white swam on, following the telltale smells and sounds of the school.
* * *
Another couple was also out fishing.
A pair of common dolphins were also following the school of striped bass, not to eat the big fish themselves but to follow them to their feeding grounds, where there would be enough smaller fish to feed all. The large shark following the school had looked them over, but the dolphins made sure it knew they could see it, and it passed them by.
The male dolphin spotted the familar shape of a boat on the surface ahead and whistled to his mate. For some odd reason the strange land mammals that were carried around on these vessels always seemed delighted to see them, and would sometimes offer a handout. It couldn't hurt to try.
Ever the gentleman, he let his mate head up to the surface first. One day the two of them would breed and start their own pod, but first they had to eat well and fatten up for the ordeal of starting a family.
He watched his mate's silhouette approach that of the boat, then the relative silence of the ocean exploded. A loud percussive blast echoed and a cloud of red blossomed out from his mate, obscuring her outline. The dolphin frantically clicked and whistled, but got no response. He closed in, trying to neslte her up to the surface to breathe, and realized that he couldn't even feel her heartbeat. The dolphin let out a long, plaintive whine as his head broke the surface. Turning, he faced the pair of land mammals on the boat.
Clearly, they were a mated pair like him and his mate. The male stood there slack-jawed, holding some kind of double-tubed object. The female was next to him, making high-pitched noises in his ear. The dolphin couldn't bear to look at his mate's killers any longer and dove, coming up beside her sinking body.
As he watched his mate fade into the darkness, something stirred within the male dolphin. For too long had his kind been at the mercy of these capricious, tool-making animals from outside the ocean. His body trembled as adrenaline shot through his muscles. It was time for someone to do something about them. To make them fear the denizens of the sea.
The dolphin's heart filled with rage.
* * *
"Bobby, you just shot a dolphin!" Flavia screamed.
"Oh, shit," he muttered, lowering the shotgun. He and some of his friends had talked of shark fishing, so he had bought a shotgun to keep aboard in case they ever landed an unruly mako. Like the one he was sure had just stolen his fish.
"What the hell were you thinking!? What if someone finds out? Those things are protected!"
"Will you shut up Flavia! I'm tryin' to think!" Bobby shouted. Though the truth was, there wasn't much he could do.
"Oh my God, there's another one! Bobby, there were two of them!" Flavia exclaimed, rushing over to the side of the boat to peer into the water.
Bobby was just about to tell her that it was time to go back to shore when the water in front of her exploded with foam and blood. He saw the grey belly of the other dolphin rise into the air before it arched backwards and landed back in the water. Then he saw Flavia and nearly screamed.
Her body was still standing, but her head had nearly been torn off by the impact. Her face was caved in and unrecognizable. She stood for a couple seconds before her legs buckled and she collapsed over the side of the boat into the water.
"Ho... ly... shit..." Bobby gasped out. He wanted to look over the edge to see if she was alive, but for one thing he highly doubted it and for another he didn't want to be anywhere where he could be seen from under the water. The boat suddenly began to feel too small.
"Alright Bobby. You just need to turn on the engine and get outta here..." he whispered to himself as he inched towards the wheelhouse. He heard a splash to his left, and an ominous, evil sounding dolphin whistle. It's playing with me, he thought. Then he heard a hard impact to the underside of the boat.
Not wasting any time, Bobby turned the ignition. Just as the engine sputtered to life, the water to his right erupted as that homicidal dolphin launched itself into the boat. It landed hard, tipping the boat to the right. Bobby slipped on the deck, still wet with water and his wife's blood.
He landed hard on his side, smacking his forehead on the steering wheel as he fell. Pain shot up his leg, and he looked down to see the dolphins jaws closed around his ankle. He screamed as the needle-sharp teeth penetrated the skin and drew blood. The dolphin began jerking to the side, and Bobby was suprised to find that it was actually moving him across the deck. He'd had no idea these animals were so strong.
It was then that he realized just what it was doing. The engine was on, and as Bobby was moved across the deck, he was getting closer to where its spinning propellers churned the water.
"Fuck... you!" he gapsed as he kicked at the dolphin's head with his free foot. The dolphin leg go, then flopped towards him as he tried to get to his feet and find the shotgun. It kicked off the side of the boat and landed squarely on Bobby, hitting him with all the clumsy force of a football tackle. The impact drove them both off the side of the boat and into the water.
Bobby kicked to the surface and had time to gasp for air before the dolphin rammed him square in his gut. The air and a little of his lunch exploded out of his mouth as the dolphin carried him for about ten yards, then broke off. Bobby tried to tread water but could barely fight through the pain in his lower torso. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the running boat somewhere behind him. Looking around and not seeing any sign of his attacker, he began feebly trying to swim towards the sound.
The dolphin breached, landing on top of him and driving him underwater. After the initial sting of exposure to salt water, his eyes cleared and he could see the white bubbles where the propellers were spinning. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the dolphin was right behind him. Its beak hit him on the small of his back, but it wasn't a hard killing blow like the first impact. Then he realized it was pushing him. He looked foward again and saw the propeller blades mere inches away from his face. He slammed his eyes shut and wriggled in the water, trying to break the dolphin's push. In response, it gave one last flick of its flukes, driving him forward. Bobby Castiglione's world ended in a burst of pain and red water.
* * *
The dolphin circled his handiwork once, then sped off into the blue water. He followed the sound and chemical signals that lead him towards shallow water. His bloodlust was yet unfulfilled.
It was time to take the fight to them.