Challenge 33: AHAB
Challenge: 33
Title: Ahab
Word Count: 1821
A/N: Um... it's a dark!fic. Based on the song "In All My Dreams I Drown" from "The Devil's Carnival". I was just being innocent and eating applesauce and my brain said, "HEY, DO THIS THING." I continue to be a disappointment to my friends and family.
Excerpt: "You thought such trivialities could protect you from me? From atonement? No, Precious. I don't think so. You know the stories."
She had never seen the sea, but she was all too familiar with the taste of seawater. She woke every morning with a dry mouth, spitting out the bitter taste of salt and brine, then scrubbing out the stink of fish. How, she wondered, could dreams bleed so fully into reality?
Every night was the same. She tossed and turned until sleep took her. Then she was taken by the ocean.
At first she would be alone, standing on the deck of a wooden ship of her own imagining. The sky would be calm, cheerful even. Then the clouds came, and with the clouds came the Captain. He was familiar, startlingly so, with his swagger and sneer and strange, cold eyes. The ship would rock with every step he took, waves crashing upon its hull.
"You haven't slept in weeks," he would say.
"I'm sleeping now," she would reply, shivering.
He would cock his head. "Are you so sure?"
Then came the great wave. It filled her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth with seawater; it soaked her thin gown; it tossed her about the deck like a ragdoll. A hand would grasp her wrist, painfully tight even in slumber.
"Please wake me up!" she would entreat.
The Captain would frown. "One day, I'm going to let you drown."
---------
Her doctor thought that sleeping pills would solve the problem. A deeper sleep might yield a sleep with no dreams.
She fell asleep more easily that night.
The ocean still came for her, and the Captain still waited on his ship.
"You thought to escape me," he said.
"Not you," she replied, "the sea."
The clouds came, the waves battered the hull, and the Captain approached. "Aren't we the same thing?" He moved ever closer, and she retreated one step for each he took. Her back hit the main mast. "Tempestuous, beautiful, unattainable by day... Oh, Sarah, you are becoming woefully miserable at identifying metaphors."
She watched his lips form her name and wondered how he knew it, how he knew her, and then reminded herself that this was only a dream.
Suddenly she found herself bound to the mast, not with the coarse rope of the rigging, but with silk. She could only watch in horror as the great wave came crashing down upon her. She fought- oh, how she fought- to hold on to her oxygen, but her lungs filled with seawater and she struggled against her bonds, eyes and nose burning.
She didn't know how long the ocean had her. She only knew that she was free of it when she heard herself crying and felt her hands and knees slam into the splintery wood of the deck.
"Please," she whispered, looking at the Captain through half-closed eyes. "Please wake me up."
Smiling, he walked over to her and patted her on the head. He was dry as desert sand. "One day, I'm going to let you drown."
---------
She didn't take another sleeping pill.
Her therapist recommended imagining things that could help her. She was, after all, lucid dreaming. If she was aware, she could control it.
Emboldened, she fell asleep quickly.
It was already storming when she arrived. The Captain smiled, an ugly thing that reached his eyes but held no mirth.
"You think you have power here," he said menacingly.
"And why not? It's my dream," she challenged.
"Oh, Sarah," he sighed. A gloved hand caressed her cheek. "Can't you see? You know the stories. You are Jonah. I am the whale."
"You intend to devour me, Captain?"
He laughed. "Something like that. And you may call me by my name."
She pursed her lips, puzzled. "What's your name?"
As though surprised, he blinked. "Call me Ishmael if you truly don't remember."
The ship rocked, knocking her off balance. "Who are you that I should remember?"
The great wave crashed over them, soaking her to the skin and leaving her coughing, collapsed on the deck. The Captain helped her to her feet. He studied her face with precision and gently wiped droplets of water from her cheeks. He took her chin in his hand and brought his lips to hers.
She didn't move a muscle, even as he tried to kiss her properly. She didn't so much as blink. Her breaths were sharp inhalations through her stinging nose, and her heart was hammering. What was he doing?
After a few moments, he stepped away. "I expect better next time."
"Please wake me up," she squeaked.
"One day, I'm going to let you drown."
---------
Power naps. If she only slept in short bursts, her brain would never get REM sleep and she wouldn't be able to dream. She drank a lot of coffee and slept as little as possible.
Still, the human body can only take so much, and the psyche is just as delicate.
The waves were gnashing at the ship, spilling onto the deck when she arrived.
"You can't escape your penance, Sarah." The Captain looked amused, his eyes becoming more frenzied with every lightning strike.
"What penance?" she cried. "What did I ever do to you?"
The rain poured, the drops heavy and hard on her skin. He grabbed her arm and tugged her to a cabin, then shoved her onto a bunk. The storm rocked the ship, the wood groaning, and the thunder made it nearly impossible to hear him.
"You destroyed everything!" He shouted. "And despite it- despite it all, I still crave you. You're like a drug, Sarah, and you're going to kill me."
"I don't even know you! You're just the man from my nightmares."
He laughed in earnest then, a hollow sound, and sat next to her on the bunk. "You're the woman from my living hell. You have to pay in some capacity."
She huffed and turned to face him. "Fine. Fine. You want to kiss me? I'll kiss you back. You want to fuck me? I'll be the best goddamn lay I can be. You want me to scrub down this whole ship? Okay. Whatever. Just let me have my dreams back. I can't go on like this."
He paused, gave a small smile. "In these dreams you're mine. I can get you to do whatever I want if I'm patient enough, and I have nothing but time. So, no. I won't be giving you back your nights."
She shut her eyes to stop the tears from spilling. "Then please wake me up," she ground out through gritted teeth.
"One day, I'm going to let you drown, Precious."
---------
Precious.
Of course. Traditional means of curing nightmares didn't work because these weren't normal nightmares. She cursed at herself for forgetting his face and voice. It should have been so obvious. As for his name... she wasn't clear on that either. It wasn't in her little red book.
First things first: protection from the supernatural. The easiest thing to acquire was salt. The difficult thing about salt was that there were so many kinds. And so many of them were sea salts. Just looking at their names made her mouth go dry and put a latent taste of fish on her tongue. She grabbed everything on the supermarket shelf (and the bag of road salt from her garage). She also picked up bluebells from the local nursery, and turned all of her shoes upside-down, making sure the toes pointed toward the head of the bed.
She flung the bluebells about her bedroom haphazardly and threw the different salts on the floor indiscriminately. If this trifecta didn't work, she didn't know what would.
Nervous but optimistic, she tucked herself into bed.
The eddies were terrifying. White-capped waves crested high against the creaking, thrashing ship.
She saw him in the distance, his golden hair plastered to his face with rain. "Ishmael!" she called.
He was on her in half a heartbeat. "You have to do your penance," he said, seething. His curious eyes were wild, feral, looking at her but through her, unfocused and hyper-vigilant. "You thought such trivialities could protect you from me? From atonement? No, Precious. I don't think so. You know the stories."
And then he was gone. For the first time ever, she was alone on this nightmare ship. Even though she knew he wanted to punish her, that he must hate her, she shouted for him. "Captain? Where did you go?" His silence had been anticipated.
She tried to think, but it was so hard- the great wave would come at any time, and the Captain had abandoned her. What is it that I'm supposed to know about the stories?
He had called her Jonah. Jonah had been eaten by a whale, then forgiven and vomited up. Did that mean he was going to forgive her? But there was something more. There was something about a worm. He called himself Ishmael. Did he mean the Biblical one or the one from Moby Dick? Probably the latter.
The ship lurched, and the wind picked up, catching the sails and causing the ship to spin out of control. She wanted to get to the- what are they called? the steering wheels? oh, it doesn't matter!- but she didn't know where to look, and even if she did, she wouldn't know how to steer a ship. And what did Jonah have to do with a worm?
"Captain!" she tried again. "Captain!" Once more: "Goblin King!"
He appeared beside her, dry as a bone.
"Think about it, Sarah, before it's too late."
"The worm... ate the plant..." she stammered, "and Jonah wished he was dead!"
He leaned in close, lips touching her ear. "Do you wish you were dead, Precious?"
"No! Please wake me up, please!" She twined her fingers into his hair and held his eyes.
He pressed his forehead against hers, and his shout was a whisper in the storm. "What's my name?"
"You said to call you Ishmael."
"Why do you think that is?" He shirked his gloves and put his fingertips on her eyelids, her lips, her cheeks, her nose, as a lover might.
"Because-" she gasped, pulling away. "Because Ishmael was the only one alive to tell the tale, and you are going to let me drown."
He cradled her as she cried, petting her hair and peppering her head with small kisses.
"Please don't," she said, imploring. "Please wake me up."
"I can't. I could have done, had you not tried to shield your mind. If you had accepted that you were wrong and done your punishment, I could have given you everything."
She sniffled. "Can't or won't?"
"Is there a difference?" He smiled at her kindly. "You were always brave; don't stop now."
She was alone. The ship was still. The sky was blue and clear. The nightmare was over.
Then she saw it: a great watery wall towering over the vessel, green and vicious and calm.
"Please wake me up."
Title: Ahab
Word Count: 1821
A/N: Um... it's a dark!fic. Based on the song "In All My Dreams I Drown" from "The Devil's Carnival". I was just being innocent and eating applesauce and my brain said, "HEY, DO THIS THING." I continue to be a disappointment to my friends and family.
Excerpt: "You thought such trivialities could protect you from me? From atonement? No, Precious. I don't think so. You know the stories."
She had never seen the sea, but she was all too familiar with the taste of seawater. She woke every morning with a dry mouth, spitting out the bitter taste of salt and brine, then scrubbing out the stink of fish. How, she wondered, could dreams bleed so fully into reality?
Every night was the same. She tossed and turned until sleep took her. Then she was taken by the ocean.
At first she would be alone, standing on the deck of a wooden ship of her own imagining. The sky would be calm, cheerful even. Then the clouds came, and with the clouds came the Captain. He was familiar, startlingly so, with his swagger and sneer and strange, cold eyes. The ship would rock with every step he took, waves crashing upon its hull.
"You haven't slept in weeks," he would say.
"I'm sleeping now," she would reply, shivering.
He would cock his head. "Are you so sure?"
Then came the great wave. It filled her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth with seawater; it soaked her thin gown; it tossed her about the deck like a ragdoll. A hand would grasp her wrist, painfully tight even in slumber.
"Please wake me up!" she would entreat.
The Captain would frown. "One day, I'm going to let you drown."
---------
Her doctor thought that sleeping pills would solve the problem. A deeper sleep might yield a sleep with no dreams.
She fell asleep more easily that night.
The ocean still came for her, and the Captain still waited on his ship.
"You thought to escape me," he said.
"Not you," she replied, "the sea."
The clouds came, the waves battered the hull, and the Captain approached. "Aren't we the same thing?" He moved ever closer, and she retreated one step for each he took. Her back hit the main mast. "Tempestuous, beautiful, unattainable by day... Oh, Sarah, you are becoming woefully miserable at identifying metaphors."
She watched his lips form her name and wondered how he knew it, how he knew her, and then reminded herself that this was only a dream.
Suddenly she found herself bound to the mast, not with the coarse rope of the rigging, but with silk. She could only watch in horror as the great wave came crashing down upon her. She fought- oh, how she fought- to hold on to her oxygen, but her lungs filled with seawater and she struggled against her bonds, eyes and nose burning.
She didn't know how long the ocean had her. She only knew that she was free of it when she heard herself crying and felt her hands and knees slam into the splintery wood of the deck.
"Please," she whispered, looking at the Captain through half-closed eyes. "Please wake me up."
Smiling, he walked over to her and patted her on the head. He was dry as desert sand. "One day, I'm going to let you drown."
---------
She didn't take another sleeping pill.
Her therapist recommended imagining things that could help her. She was, after all, lucid dreaming. If she was aware, she could control it.
Emboldened, she fell asleep quickly.
It was already storming when she arrived. The Captain smiled, an ugly thing that reached his eyes but held no mirth.
"You think you have power here," he said menacingly.
"And why not? It's my dream," she challenged.
"Oh, Sarah," he sighed. A gloved hand caressed her cheek. "Can't you see? You know the stories. You are Jonah. I am the whale."
"You intend to devour me, Captain?"
He laughed. "Something like that. And you may call me by my name."
She pursed her lips, puzzled. "What's your name?"
As though surprised, he blinked. "Call me Ishmael if you truly don't remember."
The ship rocked, knocking her off balance. "Who are you that I should remember?"
The great wave crashed over them, soaking her to the skin and leaving her coughing, collapsed on the deck. The Captain helped her to her feet. He studied her face with precision and gently wiped droplets of water from her cheeks. He took her chin in his hand and brought his lips to hers.
She didn't move a muscle, even as he tried to kiss her properly. She didn't so much as blink. Her breaths were sharp inhalations through her stinging nose, and her heart was hammering. What was he doing?
After a few moments, he stepped away. "I expect better next time."
"Please wake me up," she squeaked.
"One day, I'm going to let you drown."
---------
Power naps. If she only slept in short bursts, her brain would never get REM sleep and she wouldn't be able to dream. She drank a lot of coffee and slept as little as possible.
Still, the human body can only take so much, and the psyche is just as delicate.
The waves were gnashing at the ship, spilling onto the deck when she arrived.
"You can't escape your penance, Sarah." The Captain looked amused, his eyes becoming more frenzied with every lightning strike.
"What penance?" she cried. "What did I ever do to you?"
The rain poured, the drops heavy and hard on her skin. He grabbed her arm and tugged her to a cabin, then shoved her onto a bunk. The storm rocked the ship, the wood groaning, and the thunder made it nearly impossible to hear him.
"You destroyed everything!" He shouted. "And despite it- despite it all, I still crave you. You're like a drug, Sarah, and you're going to kill me."
"I don't even know you! You're just the man from my nightmares."
He laughed in earnest then, a hollow sound, and sat next to her on the bunk. "You're the woman from my living hell. You have to pay in some capacity."
She huffed and turned to face him. "Fine. Fine. You want to kiss me? I'll kiss you back. You want to fuck me? I'll be the best goddamn lay I can be. You want me to scrub down this whole ship? Okay. Whatever. Just let me have my dreams back. I can't go on like this."
He paused, gave a small smile. "In these dreams you're mine. I can get you to do whatever I want if I'm patient enough, and I have nothing but time. So, no. I won't be giving you back your nights."
She shut her eyes to stop the tears from spilling. "Then please wake me up," she ground out through gritted teeth.
"One day, I'm going to let you drown, Precious."
---------
Precious.
Of course. Traditional means of curing nightmares didn't work because these weren't normal nightmares. She cursed at herself for forgetting his face and voice. It should have been so obvious. As for his name... she wasn't clear on that either. It wasn't in her little red book.
First things first: protection from the supernatural. The easiest thing to acquire was salt. The difficult thing about salt was that there were so many kinds. And so many of them were sea salts. Just looking at their names made her mouth go dry and put a latent taste of fish on her tongue. She grabbed everything on the supermarket shelf (and the bag of road salt from her garage). She also picked up bluebells from the local nursery, and turned all of her shoes upside-down, making sure the toes pointed toward the head of the bed.
She flung the bluebells about her bedroom haphazardly and threw the different salts on the floor indiscriminately. If this trifecta didn't work, she didn't know what would.
Nervous but optimistic, she tucked herself into bed.
The eddies were terrifying. White-capped waves crested high against the creaking, thrashing ship.
She saw him in the distance, his golden hair plastered to his face with rain. "Ishmael!" she called.
He was on her in half a heartbeat. "You have to do your penance," he said, seething. His curious eyes were wild, feral, looking at her but through her, unfocused and hyper-vigilant. "You thought such trivialities could protect you from me? From atonement? No, Precious. I don't think so. You know the stories."
And then he was gone. For the first time ever, she was alone on this nightmare ship. Even though she knew he wanted to punish her, that he must hate her, she shouted for him. "Captain? Where did you go?" His silence had been anticipated.
She tried to think, but it was so hard- the great wave would come at any time, and the Captain had abandoned her. What is it that I'm supposed to know about the stories?
He had called her Jonah. Jonah had been eaten by a whale, then forgiven and vomited up. Did that mean he was going to forgive her? But there was something more. There was something about a worm. He called himself Ishmael. Did he mean the Biblical one or the one from Moby Dick? Probably the latter.
The ship lurched, and the wind picked up, catching the sails and causing the ship to spin out of control. She wanted to get to the- what are they called? the steering wheels? oh, it doesn't matter!- but she didn't know where to look, and even if she did, she wouldn't know how to steer a ship. And what did Jonah have to do with a worm?
"Captain!" she tried again. "Captain!" Once more: "Goblin King!"
He appeared beside her, dry as a bone.
"Think about it, Sarah, before it's too late."
"The worm... ate the plant..." she stammered, "and Jonah wished he was dead!"
He leaned in close, lips touching her ear. "Do you wish you were dead, Precious?"
"No! Please wake me up, please!" She twined her fingers into his hair and held his eyes.
He pressed his forehead against hers, and his shout was a whisper in the storm. "What's my name?"
"You said to call you Ishmael."
"Why do you think that is?" He shirked his gloves and put his fingertips on her eyelids, her lips, her cheeks, her nose, as a lover might.
"Because-" she gasped, pulling away. "Because Ishmael was the only one alive to tell the tale, and you are going to let me drown."
He cradled her as she cried, petting her hair and peppering her head with small kisses.
"Please don't," she said, imploring. "Please wake me up."
"I can't. I could have done, had you not tried to shield your mind. If you had accepted that you were wrong and done your punishment, I could have given you everything."
She sniffled. "Can't or won't?"
"Is there a difference?" He smiled at her kindly. "You were always brave; don't stop now."
She was alone. The ship was still. The sky was blue and clear. The nightmare was over.
Then she saw it: a great watery wall towering over the vessel, green and vicious and calm.
"Please wake me up."