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As soon as she was in it she was out. She heard the sea before she felt it, the loud mixture of seabirds and waves crashing all mixed together in one sound. Then as soon as the chill of the nowhere dissolved into the beaming warmth of the sun, she was plunged straight back into it. The piercing pain of the ice-cold water parelised her, she was drowning.
Unable to move Henrietta sank down slowly, she knew it was a dream, it had to be. One second she was cooking a crumbled jam tart, the next she was sinking to her death. She couldn’t panic, she couldn’t swim, she couldn’t breath.
The pain was excruciating like ten knives poking into her at once, if the ocean didn’t kill her then whatever was on her foot would. Etta opened her mouth to scream, but a huge gulp of water swam in instead. She thrashed around the pain in her foot growing at every small movement she made. She now knew why her parents wouldn’t let her out of the house, there was danger everywhere.
“Tis a big one! Tonight’s a feast Cap’ain” A muffled voice from above the sea shouted as Henrietta was pulled upwards. Water rushed past her as the warmth of the air wrapped her up like a blanket. “Er, Cap’ain, that ain’t no fish.” The pain in Etta’s foot disappeared as her head slammed straight into the wooden boards. There were screams and gasps all around her as she stood up, beneath her was a puddle of bright red liquid, Blood, she guessed, yet she had never seen it before.
“What’s happenin’!” The loud voice was strong and most around her, backed away to make way for the man. When he was finally visible to Henrietta’s eyes, she gasped. He wore long baggy pants, and a long red leather coat. On his belt was a cutlass, Etta tried not to think of what terrible thing the blade could have done.
The man looked her up and down, piercing blue eyes staring straight through her soul. His long dirty hair tied up in a ponytail coming loose. “What you doin’ on ‘The Dragoneer’?” The man spoke again, voice cold and menacing. Henrietta opened her mouth to respond then shut it, she didn’t know what she was doing on ‘The Dragoneer’, or why she was in the middle of the ocean. After six seconds with no response, the man raised his cutlass, “Chuck ‘er!”
A roar of agreement sounded from the other members of the crew. Then the man who’d fished her out of her watery death, picked her up and held her over the side of the ship. With nothing to lose, Etta spoke, “There was a pan and a cookbook, that I think belonged to Arcelia Carlton, and-and I think it was a portal …” but before she could continue, the man who everyone called Captain ordered the fisher to lower her. “Take her down to the boy! Quickly, before she escapes!”
Two of the crew members grabbed her by the arms, grubby hands squeezing her tightly. She didn’t bother crying for help, no one here had a kind enough heart.
Below decks the smell of rotting fish made her feel faint. “In!” Before she could think she was tossed into a damp room. “Hallo.” Staring down at her was a boy, dark bronze coloured hair, slicked back against his face. Round green eyes smiled at her through cracked glasses. They looked so familiar, like she’d seen them before, “Father?” The boy stared at her in confusion, “I’m ten.”
Henrietta sat up disappointed, the boy looked so much like her father. “My name's Thomas, Thomas Carlton.”
Unable to move Henrietta sank down slowly, she knew it was a dream, it had to be. One second she was cooking a crumbled jam tart, the next she was sinking to her death. She couldn’t panic, she couldn’t swim, she couldn’t breath.
The pain was excruciating like ten knives poking into her at once, if the ocean didn’t kill her then whatever was on her foot would. Etta opened her mouth to scream, but a huge gulp of water swam in instead. She thrashed around the pain in her foot growing at every small movement she made. She now knew why her parents wouldn’t let her out of the house, there was danger everywhere.
“Tis a big one! Tonight’s a feast Cap’ain” A muffled voice from above the sea shouted as Henrietta was pulled upwards. Water rushed past her as the warmth of the air wrapped her up like a blanket. “Er, Cap’ain, that ain’t no fish.” The pain in Etta’s foot disappeared as her head slammed straight into the wooden boards. There were screams and gasps all around her as she stood up, beneath her was a puddle of bright red liquid, Blood, she guessed, yet she had never seen it before.
“What’s happenin’!” The loud voice was strong and most around her, backed away to make way for the man. When he was finally visible to Henrietta’s eyes, she gasped. He wore long baggy pants, and a long red leather coat. On his belt was a cutlass, Etta tried not to think of what terrible thing the blade could have done.
The man looked her up and down, piercing blue eyes staring straight through her soul. His long dirty hair tied up in a ponytail coming loose. “What you doin’ on ‘The Dragoneer’?” The man spoke again, voice cold and menacing. Henrietta opened her mouth to respond then shut it, she didn’t know what she was doing on ‘The Dragoneer’, or why she was in the middle of the ocean. After six seconds with no response, the man raised his cutlass, “Chuck ‘er!”
A roar of agreement sounded from the other members of the crew. Then the man who’d fished her out of her watery death, picked her up and held her over the side of the ship. With nothing to lose, Etta spoke, “There was a pan and a cookbook, that I think belonged to Arcelia Carlton, and-and I think it was a portal …” but before she could continue, the man who everyone called Captain ordered the fisher to lower her. “Take her down to the boy! Quickly, before she escapes!”
Two of the crew members grabbed her by the arms, grubby hands squeezing her tightly. She didn’t bother crying for help, no one here had a kind enough heart.
Below decks the smell of rotting fish made her feel faint. “In!” Before she could think she was tossed into a damp room. “Hallo.” Staring down at her was a boy, dark bronze coloured hair, slicked back against his face. Round green eyes smiled at her through cracked glasses. They looked so familiar, like she’d seen them before, “Father?” The boy stared at her in confusion, “I’m ten.”
Henrietta sat up disappointed, the boy looked so much like her father. “My name's Thomas, Thomas Carlton.”