by Ashley Lemus

Created on: July 29, 2011

There was a crisp, cold bite in the air.  I walked along the railing that guarded the people on the deck from going right off the edge, my fingertips trailing across it slowly.  I was in no hurry.  On a cruise ship there is nowhere to go fast in the middle of the ocean. 

The waters were dark and the churning of waves made the deep waters look restless.  The sky was a star studded void of black velvet.  I stopped at the bow of the ship.  There was almost no one on deck now.  I was alone.  I drew in a deep breath and expelled it in a white puff from my lips as a sigh.  In my free hand I held a glass of wine.

When the ship gave a shuddering jerk I did not budge.  I was still and calm, collected and passive.  When all was still again I heard the first surprised voices, the initial ebb and flow of questions.  I held the wine glass out over the railing and tipped it to watch the slow spill of dark red vanish into the waves below.

I dropped the glass once it was empty and it fell in utter silence.

No one would know I had ever been on the ship.  No one would remember me or have record of me.  It was almost the most depressing aspect of my existence.  Those who met me either went with me or never remembered me.  It is hard to maintain a social life in that respect. 

I had been with the ship since it left port and would be with it until it finally sank.

I pulled a golden pocket watch form my vest and flicked it open.  11:40PM on the dot on April 14th.  By 2:20Am on April 15th, more than one thousand lives would be leaving with me, ferried to the other side. 

Farewell Titanic.  Apparently, it could sink.

Learn more about this author, Ashley Lemus.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.