Sunday, December 20, 2015

Superhero Story 2 is here!


Jake and his friends are back for a new, south of the border superhero adventure!


A U.S. Serviceman is being wrongly detained … and somebody has to do something about it. And thanks to our superheroes, someone is!

No thanks to our supervillains, by the way.

The temperature’s rising, powers are coming on strong, and … did we mention the new supercar?

Action awaits!

(Perfect for all ages, appropriate for young readers.)

Available at Amazon today, coming soon to iBooks
Smashwords.comBooks-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

More at Harlowe Pilgrim's Superhero Story Blog!

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Harlowe Pilgrim’s ‘Tweeting Fool’ - #4



###

Woke up at the crack of Dawn this morning ... come to think of it, 'Dawn' was probably just her stage name.


Everyone please put your vibrators on phone, and we’ll begin.”



You know you’ve made it when you can go on a breast milk diet

and hire a squad of lactating cheerleaders to suckle.



 'Camille Toe: The story of a woman with an unfortunate name'


"She'll be coming around the mountain when she comes."
I know that's a long ways, but I've been teasing her awhile ...



Introduce yourself by sticking your nose in her crotch like a dog.


If she just smiles and pets you, she's a keeper.




Don’t takem’ off – just pull them down around your ankles.”
(socks?)


It's all fun and games ... until someone forgets to take her pill.




The new iPad will be more absorbent, and have wings.

And thankfully, a remote control.






Cunny Lingus - the new Irish airline everyone wants to fly.





Ah, the nursing home … where nobody’s fertile, and memories are so short.”


Sounds like a come dream true.



###


-Harlowe Pilgrim



Copyright 2015 Cock And Bull Publishing, LLC


Harlowe Pilgrim's books are available at AmazoniBooks
Smashwords.comBooks-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Saturday, November 7, 2015

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Fix Your Brains Out


How did the repairmen fix the customer’s vagina?






They screwed it together.


***

-Harlowe Pilgrim


PS. And it didn’t squeak afterward, either.


Copyright 2015 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,  Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.


Wednesday, September 23, 2015

The Dragon Down

By Harlowe Pilgrim

It is with heavy heart that I tell my tale, for it be a sad one, the heart and the tale both. And the tale be a dragon tale, one recalling a sad, sad state of dragon affairs.

Live it with me, a time upon a once.

You … are walking your dragon. They need that every now and then, as otherwise there is nothing more irascible. So you are walking him … just walking him.

He’s always been aggressive toward strangers, for as long as he’s been yours. And he’s been yours from just a hatchling—a cute and scaly one, at that.

Over the years have you dealt with his hostile manner, some times better than others, going over and beyond to keep him contained, restrained, and otherwise sequestered away in your home and out of trouble.

And at home, well what of that? As member of the family, that dragon is loved just as much as … as much as strangers best be wary of him. Likewise, with you and yours, his demeanor is charming, near as docile and affectionate as a cuddly kitten. As long as you keep him calm.

And one of the best ways to keep your dragon calm is … to exercise him. And one of the best forms of exercise for a spunky old dragon (save for razing villages by the fire of his dragon’s breath, which ought be discouraged) is … simply … to take him out for walks.

On such a walk is where you find yourself now.

With regard to dragon-walking, the less populated the route, the better. Because, as likely you recall, your dragon is not a people-dragon. Which is why you keep him leashed at all times.

As long as he is on that leash, you have always been able to control him, well enough. Which is to say, you have kept him from being too awfully bad.

And so, you are walking, and your dragon is walking with you, on his leash—that leash being actually quite a heavy chain (it having grown heavier over the years along with his dragon-power).

The road is dirt, isolated and essentially deserted. In other words, perfect.

Until there appears, from the woods at the roadside … another dragon. Another dragon much smaller and younger than yours.

Someone else’s pet dragon, by the looks. But at the moment, this little guy is running free, with no master to be seen.

And he’s coming your way.

You are on guard, but there’s no need to panic. Your hands have tight hold of the chain restraining yours, and … well, they are likely to investigate each other, and that will be it. A non-event.

Likely.

The other dragon is almost to you. He’s even littler than you thought.

Your guy growls down low a bit, but there’s nothing so unusual about that—it’s how he says hello.

There is even slack in his chain, for what it is worth.

You’re glad he’s so relaxed.

The other dragon approaches, in rather an unassuming manner.

Most beasts seem to have a natural apprehension of each other, or so you thought. But not in this case.

And in the split second it takes for a heart to beat, your dragon reacts.

He throws a great belch of flame, and lunges latching his fearsome, knife-toothed jaw onto a foreleg of the lesser creature, who screams an awful dragon scream and scrambles to escape your aggressor's impossible grip.

With proximate the strength of a plow ox, you pull back on his chain, but his viciousness holds tight. Whenever you succeed in dragging him back, he only drags his prey along with him.

Dragon’s blood has begun to flow, splashing upon the embattled creatures, yourself, and the wounded, claw-dug ground.

Their terrible howls and snarls have attracted attention, and you find yourself surrounded by onlookers.

Even in the middle of nowhere, a horror show attracts a crowd.

Feverishly now, you jerk back on the chain, but to no avail.

You push him with your foot as you pull again. Anything to break them up … to distract him. Push, pull, pray … and repeat.

The sound is God-awful.

Then … miraculously … your dragon goes for a better bite. And in the brief window it affords, you’re able to wrench him away from his victim.

Your monster snarls after him as whimpering, he limps away.

The altercation was brief in terms of elapsed time, yet a perpetuity the way you experienced it.

And by the looks of the onlookers, the world is a different place now than it was before.

You can see it in their eyes, before all the blood has even hit the earth.

That indeed, all the blood has not hit the earth.

Meanwhile, your heart still races, and your hands ache from fighting to grip on your dragon’s chain.

This cannot stand. It must not, and will not, be allowed to stand.

But your dragon is as oblivious as … as his days are now numbered. His bloody mouth is almost a smile … if dragons did smile, which dragons do not.

In you, the realization is grim and sickening.

The poor wounded dragon’s owners emerge and take custody of their ailing little beast. And they wax apologetic, of all things.

They must not have seen.

“Not at all.” You usher your dragon from the scene. “Not at all.”

“Was he injured?” they ask of him, your dragon fighting machine.

“Not at all … not at all.”



Back at home, your dragon is all pet once more.

But still, you are wary, and yours are wary. The day’s unfortunate incident was an escalation. It marked a turning point.

You were unable to contain him. You were unable to control him.

That knowledge sets upon your chest like a millstone.

Your mind and stomach churn over the possibility—nay the likelihood, of a reoccurrence.

Or … of a worse occurrence.

The reality strikes you cold as the water with which you wash the blood from your wonderful, horrible friend.

You have to put the dragon down.

The thought sends shudders as he cozies up to you with that friendly gleam in his eyes.

He loves you.

You love him. This side of him.

Where was that gleam when the dragon roared?

You gather yours and explain what what must be.

Tears flow and heads nod in sad understanding, and acceptance is gained within warm hugs.

When? When will it be done?

Soon … the sooner the better. For safety’s sake. But not today.

The emotions are overwhelming as they are.

Your dragon snores the night away on the floor huddled next to the children, still their best friend and protector.

Yet the dwindling sands pour from his hourglass whether he’s cognizant of it or not.



Little rest do you enjoy, the day’s first light finding your eyes open and awake.

Does it have to be the day, today? It does. Otherwise would be risking the next terrible event.

The household rises at the typical time, true to routine, while the mood is anything but.

Gloomy are all, and grim … all except your dragon, who is strikingly … chipper … if such label be properly affixed a fire-breathing beast. Sweetly clueless even, the blood and noise of yesterday relegated ancient history in his dragon mind, if even the notion exists anywhere within.

But absent your mind, it for certain is not. The yester day’s events … today’s sad duty … they devastate like a dragon bite.

Breakfast, along with the rest, is hard to swallow.

For you, certainly. But not for the dragon, who manages to snatch up a basket of food from your table—an act that, although normally strictly verboten … on this day, you let it go.

Which should have raised his suspicions and would have, if not for his focus on the stolen snack.

The meal concludes and you prompt the family.

It is time.

Tears flow and flow some more as they lavish affection upon their poor damned pet, and he revels too much in the lavishment.

Is that pain in your chest, your heart breaking?

It continues to break, or at least certainly to bleed, as you escort him from home, steering down the dirt path and onto the quiet uncobbled road, as if for a walk taken so many before. As if it were the world of the day before.

Your long blade, sheathed in its scabbard, weighs heavy on your hip and upon your soul.

The roadside passes as you pass it by, the indistinct muddle of the setting of a dream. And not a very good dream, at that.

A regrettable a chore it seems, to be the one to whom it falls to do what must be done.

Your walk ends off the road in a forest clearing. He sits up and looks up at you, expectantly. You often play in this spot.

There is love in his dragon eyes.

What pain you feel!

Stroking his back, you set him at ease. He groans and rolls over so you can rub his belly, which you do.

He loves that on his underside. His soft, vulnerable underside.

Relaxation overtakes him, and his eyes close.

You continue the massage with the one hand, as you—silently, painstakingly—draw your sword.

The dragon begins to snore.

He’s asleep.

Blink away the tears, they are blurring your vision.

Let him sleep.

You stop rubbing his belly, and stand upright, grasping the weapon’s hilt in both hands. Blade down.

One deep breath.

And with all you can muster, you plunge the sword down into his chest.

Your cold steel finds dragon heart.

He never shudders or opens his eyes, only stops snoring.

His breath is gone, his spark departed. Thy friend, thy burden … thine no more.

You collapse at his side.

And that is how you put the dragon down.

A true story, you ask? More true than not, my friend. Leash thy dragons close.

The End

###

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2015 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at AmazoniBooks,
Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.


Saturday, August 29, 2015

The Ghost Ship Lollipop




On the Ghost Ship

Lollipop

it’s a sweet trip

to your final stop …



“Is it always this tranquil out here?”

The weathered old sea captain pondered his pipe. “It’s always deathly tranquil out here,” he said through a puff. “Or deathly, not.”

She was taken aback by his response.

Her companion began rubbing her shoulders. “I think,” he said, “that what the captain is saying, is … the sea’s in a constant state of change. There is no ‘always’.”

He stopped rubbing and turned to the captain for approval.

The skipper grinned a little around his pipe. “Yeah, that’s it.” His smile faded quickly. “That’s mostly it.”

The couple exchanged a glance. She asked with her eyes, and he answered with a shrug.

She sighed, and again addressed the captain. “How far do you think we can see?”

He did not react to her inquiry, but stared off into the water.

She looked at her companion.

“Captain?” he said.

“Oh … yes … what can I …”

“Mae was wondering …”

“Lovely name, May. I once knew a girl … a pretty little thing. I think that was in May.”

“It could have been April,” the younger man said, with a wink to his lady. “I hear she was also―”

“Humph!” The captain bit down on his pipe. “Never cared much for that woman,” he said, “and April never cared all that much for me.”

“I … I had no idea …”

“Quite an unpleasant memory, actually. Thanks for bringing it up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aye, that you are. But you’re a paying fare … and it wouldn’t do to point that out.”

“Point what out?”

The captain declined to speak, other than with his eyes.

“That you’re sorry,” the woman connected the dots for him.

Her companion appeared confused. “I said that.”

And she looked flustered herself.

The captain’s gaze struck out over the sea.

A shape on the horizon caught the younger man’s attention. “What’s that, Captain?”

“Where?” the woman said. “I don’t see …”

“Is it another ship? Or is it like … an iceberg or something?”

“Humph!” exhorted the captain. “Icebergs don’t follow ships.”

“That’s a relief,” she said. “I can think of a few iceberg-and-ship incidents that have ended really badly.”

“They usually do.”

“So,” the man said, “it’s a ship?”

“And it’s following us?” she added.

The captain removed the pipe from his mouth. “That ship is the Lollipop.”

The younger man smirked. “The Lollipop, huh? That sucks.”

She laughed at his joke. “Oh Thad, you’re so― ”

“Humph!” The captain put the pipe back in his mouth. “You better hope the Lollipop isn’t following us. We all better hope it’s not following us.”

“Why?” she said. “Is it … some kind of ghost ship?” She covered her mouth as if to stifle a fake scream.

“Humph!” The captain’s disgust was palpable, they took him so lightly. “You better hope it never gets close enough to find out.”

He turned away and started to go.

“Captain?” Thad called after him.

The disinterested skipper waved him off as he continued to walk away.

The couple looked at each other, perplexed.

“What,” Thad said to her, “do you suppose that was about?”

She pointed out over the rail, at the far-off object. “Either it was about that thing, or a cranky old man … or both.”

“Hmmm … whatever it is … I trust the captain. He may a gruff old sea-dog … but he knows what he’s doing. He’ll keep us safe.”

“Who said they felt unsafe?”

“Didn’t you?” he said.

“I said no such thing.”

“Oh, well then …”

“Well what?” She crossed her arms.

“Well in that case … I suggest we check out what’s going on in the galley. I heard there’s all-you-can-eat, fresh caught seafood tonight. I bet it’s ready.”

“I thought something smelled fishy,” she said. “Maybe it’s the galley … and maybe it ain’t.”

She had a hard time letting go of the distant ship as he led her away.



“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Good …” she groaned under her breath. “… good morning. Why is it so hot in here?”

“I noticed the air conditioning had stopped in the night. It did get stuffy, fast.”

“I’m thirsty.” She threw the covers off and slipped into the bathroom. “There’s no water from the faucet. And the lights don’t work either.”

He reached over and tried the lamp on the bedside table.

“Hmmm … something’s going on …”

“Well nothing electrical is,” she said.

“Cute. Guess I’ll go see what I can find out. You want to come?”



“Captain!” Thad accosted him.

They approached the old skipper. “Just the man we wanted to see.”

“You want to see me?” The captain puffed his pipe and smirked. “I’m flattered.”

“Can you tell us what is going on?”

“Yes … I can.”

The three stared at each other in a moment of awkward silence.

“Then,” she said to the captain, “would you mind?”

He puffed his pipe some more.

“Telling us?” Thad attempted to clarify.

The captain removed the pipe from his mouth. “Well … we’re having a little problem down below.”

“I’ll say,” she said. “Nothing works in our cabin.”

“April …” the captain began.

“Her name is Mae,” Thad said.

“I can answer for myself,” she reprimanded him. “I’m Mae.”

“Ah yes,” the captain grumbled. “I used to like May … but I’m caring for it less and less, I have to admit.”

She gave him the eye. And when she noticed Thad’s amusement, she shot him an evil eye too.

“Humph,” the captain said. “Have you looked around, Miss?”

“Yes, I―”

“Nothing works in anyone’s cabin. The entire boat is dead … dead in the water.”

“Dead in the water?” Thad said. “Captain? But how can that be?”

The captain took a long draw from his pipe, and then slowly released the smoky breath. “How to end up dead in the water … let me count the ways. The trick, let me tell you, is how not to die in the water.”

The young man watched fear sweep over his girl.

“And it ain’t easy,” the captain continued. “I wouldn’t take that outcome for granted.”

“Captain, is this really necessary? Talking like that … look, now she’s―”

“She’s what?” Mae said, crossing her arms.

“Uh-oh,” the captain said, with a bemused grimace. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?”

“You know,” the captain said to him, and then winked at the woman.

She studied Thad for his reaction.

“I … don’t agree with that,” he bumbled. “I didn’t say―”

“How long will it take?” she demanded of the captain.

“To what?”

“To get the ship fixed, or whatever.”

“That,” the captain said. “is the big question.”

“Well then, WHY don’t you answer―”

The captain’s stare stopped her in her tracks.

“I don’t know how long it will take. We all want to get back underway. It could be awhile.”

“Captain,” Thad said, “I’m sure you’re doing all you can, but … we have reservations already booked at our destination …”

“I understand you having some reservations.” The captain was pipe puffing and smirking again. “We’re doing all we can.”

And he turned and left, before they could trouble him with any more of their troubles. Humph!



A loathing ocean churned and turned.

“Are we having fun yet?”

“Are you?” he asked.

“What do you think?”

“Well, I’m sure you miss the air conditioning …”

“I do,” she said.

“And I’m sure you miss running water …”

“I do.”

“And refrigeration …”

“I do.”

“And not peeing in a bucket and having to dump it over the side after …”

“I do.”

“It would be the perfect time,” he said, “if I wanted to … to ask you to marry me … since you keep saying ‘I do’ … wouldn’t it.”

“No,” she said. “No it wouldn’t. I’m hot … and dirty … and grungy …”

“So that makes you disagreeable?”

“A little.”

He looked quizzically at her.

“Okay,” she admitted. “A lot.”

“Then never mind.” He grinned. “I could never marry someone who’s that high maintenance.”

“You know, pee’s not the only thing we’re dumping into the ocean, Thad. What you are is getting dumped over the side too.”

“Aw … that stinks.” He held his nose. “Keep your bucket away from me.”

“My bucket asked that you be kept away.”

“Tell your bucket,” he said, “that I’m in a sensitive place right now … I’m hot … and dirty … and grungy …”

She sighed and sat back in her deck chair. “WHEN are they going to fix this ship? I’m starting to worry.”

“Aw … don’t worry. We’re in good hands.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seriously, the captain seems to really know what he’s doing―”

“If he knew what he was doing,” she cut him off, “we wouldn’t have been adrift at sea for―”



“Two days.” The captain had come up behind them unnoticed. “Aye, it’s been two days.” He puffed his pipe. “It’s true that I know what I’m doing.”

“And still,” she said, “here we are.”

“Aye. We are here.”

“Captain,” Thad said. “Nobody meant any insult …”

“Awww, there was none taken. Believe me, I wish I knew I was doing something better.”

“So what are you doing now?”

“Relaxing on the deck,” the captain said. “Smoking … and chit chatting.”

“Have you radioed the Coast Guard?”

“The guard of what coast, son? We’re out in open water … there’s no coast to be found.”

“Shouldn’t you still radio someone?” she asked.

“I definitely still would,” the captain said, “except that old radio is dead, too. Battery back-up and all.”

“It IS?” she wailed. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s just dead.” He smirked that smirk around his pipe. “Death is like that. It just happens. It just is.”

She wrapped her arms around her companion.

“That’s a cold way to put it,” Thad said.

“At least you got a nice hug out of it, fella. There’s much worse out there. You better count yer blessings.”




“It’s getting closer, isn’t it.”

“I think it is. But it’s almost night and … it seems to get closer at night.”

“Do you think they’re bringing help?” Mae asked. “Maybe we have the Lollipop all wrong.”

“That sounds like wishful thinking. I wish it were so, but … I get a creepy feeling seeing that rusty old ghost ship out there. Like it’s stalking us, you know?”

“That’s a comforting thought.”

“Hey, if you want comfort,” Thad grinned, “get a dog.”

“Since I’ve been stranded at sea for days, a dog’s sounding pretty good right now. Mmm … hot dog.”

“Well I don’t want to be the dog, so don’t be getting any ideas.”

She took his hand and pretended to bite it. “Bark for me … come on … bark for me.”



The cabin shook violently.

It shook them awake.

“What … what was that?”

“Did we hit something?” Thad said, sitting up next to her in the dark.

“Silly,” Mae said. “There’s nothing out here to hit … just us and water.”

The ship shook again, and thereafter continued a deep, structural pounding that they felt as well as heard.

“Well,” he said, “I think we’re hitting on something.”

“Or,” she said, “something’s hitting on us.”

They moved to the window.

“There’s nothing out there,” she said.

“So whatever it is, must be on the other side of the boat.”

He left the window, and she heard him rummaging for clothes.

“I don’t know about you, Mae … but I’m going to check it out.”



They stood on deck. Frozen.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered. “This can’t be good.”

“The Lollipop.”

The ghost ship was run alongside theirs, bumping and grinding, as dark and foreboding as the night-time sea at their keel.

“I … I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s just as well,” Mae said. “I don’t know what I want to hear.”

“It’s really … right … here. Unbelievable.”

“Where’s the captain? Where’s the crew? And the passengers?”

“You mean,” he said, “our captain and crew? Or the Lollipop’s?”

“You’re not helping, Thad. This place is deserted … could we be the only ones who heard―”

“Hun … I think I see … one of the passengers.”

“You see what? How can you see anything at all, it’s so dark out here. Oh … MY.”



A little girl was peaking over the rail of the Lollipop, looking down at them.

“Um … hello … hello, there.” Mae spoke in her gentlest voice.

The little girl held the couple in her gaze, seeming reluctant to speak.

“Hi there,” Thad said. “Don’t be …” He swallowed hard. “Afraid.”

She smiled.

A little.

The woman nodded, urging him to continue.

“What are you,” he said, “out for a boat ride? Hmmm … us too, I guess.”

The little girl smiled a wider.

“I think you’re getting somewhere,” Mae whispered to him.

“Never underestimate my charm.”

She rolled her eyes.

The girl stood up taller. “Can you help me?” she said, her voice of sweet and innocence.

“What’s that?” Thad said. “Whats the―”

“Can you help me?”

“We’d like to try,” Mae said, “if you would just tell us what is―”

“You CAN’T help me.” The girl began to sob.

“I said we’d like to help―”

“You CAN’T help me.” She stopped sobbing. “You CAN’T even help YOURSELVES!”

The couple jumped, startled as they were dumbfounded.

And the little girl ran away crying.



“Getting on this boat might not be the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“You mean,” he said, “getting on our boat? Or getting on the Lollipop, just now?”

“Yes,” she said. “Take your pick.”

“It’s so dark … you got that flashlight?”

“Yeah. I’ve been saving it―it’s our last battery.”

“Well, save it as long as you can.”

“I plan to. Did you see where she went?”

“She ducked into a doorway,” he said. “I think it’s that open doorway over there.”

“Most of the doors are open,” Mae said.

“I know. Spooky. But that’s the one, over next to the fire extinguisher … see the fire extinguisher on the wall?”

“I see it.”

“Maybe we should call to her,” he said.

“Okay. Little girl! Little girl!”

“She HAS a name, you know.” He grinned at her. “We just don’t happen to know what it is.”

“So … ‘little girl’ then?”

“Sure, why not.”

She resumed calling to her. “Little girl! Little girl!”



There was nothing but dead silence upon silence.

“I don’t think we should be in here.” She aimed the flashlight’s beam into the impossible darkness. “Do you know where we are?”

“In an old ship’s innards?”

She shivered. It was cold, getting colder. “Don’t say it that way … it makes it sound like we’ve been swallowed up.”

“Haven’t we been?”

She whacked him with the flashlight. “Knock it off.”

“You knock that off,” he said. “Break that flashlight, and we’re never going to find our way out of here.”

“That’s a good point. Sorry. I should have hit you with something else.”

“Just remember for next time.”

They crept on.

“Do you think,” she said, “the Lollipop is really a ghost ship?”

“I suppose it could be just a ship … a ship that apparently stalked our boat, without the benefit of any power or propulsion … or crew, or passengers … other than the one spooky little kid?”

There was a ‘clang’ up ahead.

“One spooky little kid?” she said.

“Only one way to find out. Little girl … little girl …

A song of sobs wafted toward them.

“Yep,” he said, “that’s her.”

They hurried ahead.

“Let’s not lose her again,” Mae said.

“Wait,” he said, pausing to listen.

She stopped behind him. “I almost ran into you.”

“Shhh …”

“Sorry.”

The sobbing had gotten louder.

“I think she’s in here.” He pointed into the doorway on the right.

The woman nodded and they both headed right.

“Wait,” she said, stopping him. “Now it’s coming from the left.”

So they went to the left.

The sobbing grew louder.

They wound through a series of compartments and bulkheads.

“There!” he said. “There she is.”

The little girl stood crying in a doorway ahead of them.

They froze.

“We just want to help you,” Mae said to her. “Please don’t run away.”

The little girl stopped sobbing and looked up at them. “You can’t help me.”

Her words hit them as a frosty winter chill.

“It’s gotten so cold in here,” Mae shivered, rubbing her arms.

“It sure has,” he said. “Why won’t you let us try and help you?” he asked of the girl in the doorway.

“You CAN’T even help YOURSELVES!” she shouted at them, and disappeared again into the depths of the ghost ship Lollipop.

“Here we go again,” he said to his companion. “Did you see which way she went?”

“Down the hall, and then I lost her …”

“Shine the light down the hall, then.”

“Okay, let’s go see.”

They went down the hall, through a couple more compartments, and stopped.

“I don’t see her anywhere,” he said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You mean, you want to go back?”

“I mean, we can’t go on doing this forever, and … I’m not sure I even know which way back is.”

“You’re lost?” She started to cry. “How can we be lost? Down here in the dark … so scared, and cold … down here with God-knows-what.”

Something banged nearby.

“Did you hear that?” he said. “I think it’s our little girl.”

Something else banged.

A door slammed.

There was another bang.

Doors slammed. Many doors.

The sounds were all around.

“Oh my … is that ALL her?”

“That’s NOT just a little girl.” He took her hand.

The banging and slamming intensified.

“We’re getting out of here—let’s run for it!”

He started moving, and she scrambled after him.

“Which way?” she said. “I thought you were lost?”

“You just point that light ahead!”

They were in a full run, bolting through the horrible chaos.

“We’re screwed if you lose that light!” he warned her between gasps for breath. “Whatever you do, don’t lose that light!”

And no sooner had he said it, than the light … went out.

Ensconced in blackness, they had to stop running.

The noise ceased.

All except for a single, blood-curdling … hair-raising … SCREAM.



“The SS Lollipop,” the crewman read off the side of the ship that had run up alongside theirs. “You ever heard of it?”

“No,” another crewman said. “I don’t believe I have.”

“Captain?”

“I don’t think it’s going to help us catch any fish.”

“Captain?”

“I’m sayin’, we only just put out to sea … and we’ve been adrift now for hours without power … and we need to concentrate on getting this boat fixed and back to work. If we don’t get back to port with that hold full of fish like we’re supposed to … well, it’ll be our arses.”

“Aye Captain.”

“Aye Captain.”

“Well don’t just stand there … disregard this stray floater and get back down to the engine room!”

“But Captain … you ain’t interested in the least ‘bout what this ghost ship is doin’ here?”

“I’m interested in … FISH. Nothing more and nothing less … so get to it!”

“Aye Captain.”

“Captain, LOOK! There’s people aboard that ship!”

“What the―”

“There is, Captain! Look!”

“I’ll be damned, there is,” the captain said. “Ahoy there! Ahoy!”

A man and a woman, looking all the worse for the wear, stood at the rail of the Lollipop.

“I say,” the captain continued, “AHOY!”

“Can you help us?” called the man on the ghost ship. “Can you help us?”

“Most likely,” the captain said. “Why don’t you come aboard?”

The woman began to sob. “They can’t help us.”

“We can’t? Well we’d be happy to try―”

A little girl appeared at the rail with the other two.

“You CAN’T help us,” she said, turning to her shipmates. “They CAN’T even help THEMSELVES!”


The End

###

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2015 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,  Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.