Denouement

YOU SHOULD NOT READ THESE WORDS...

Writing them was worse, but justified. The fact that this is what it took to finally bring closure to this situation between you and your friends is horrible, but necessary. 'Friends'...that word should now and forever take on an entirely different meaning given our decision to perform this heinous action. None of them would ever suspect that you of all people would be capable of such. Yet here we are...and here you are, eyes of confusion laced with defiance still traveling along the words that will define a moment for us all...

It wouldn't be much longer before bullets of rain danced along the soon-to-be-soaked page she held onto while trying to stay afloat. The skies above were fuming with a brooding sense of finality. The salty murkiness of the mighty Mississippi splashed in her eyes as she watched the famous Cajun Queen sail off into the horizon. Despite what she couldn't fathom would ever happen, it was then that she finally came to terms with the end. The peace that was to come; the peace that had all but eluded her would now embrace her like a lost child returning home. The group finally had enough, and this was the result. Lost in a beautiful haze of absinthe and painkillers coursing through her system, what was pain had now become exquisite pleasure...

And yet you continue reading, following the very words that will lead to your destruction. None of us asked for this. We're all overworked and underpaid. All you had to do was leave well enough alone, but couldn't. You couldn't see past your perspective. You couldn't see past your ego. You couldn't bear to let anyone else have the last word over you. And now, your ego, your smart-aleck mouth, and your blatant inability to let it go have led you inexorably here. And yet you keep reading...as if you didn't already know how this was going to end. How did you not see this coming?

Her breathing labored and her mind crackled with a wondrous state of euphoria, he soon reappeared before her. Her pulse quickened as a faint look of astonishment crossed her face. He stood just above the surface of the water, watching her struggling to stay afloat.

I must be hallucinating. This isn't real. He can't be real. It was almost as if he was floating farther away from her, back up to the deck of the ship.

Noah, her closest confidant and partner in Who Dat Media, the content writing website they established faded in and out of sight as though he was never there. The potent mix of absinthe and painkillers was taking its toll before the solemn surrender to the deep, black abyss. There were no words between them. At this point, none were needed. As the ship continued to sail along the murky waters until it vanished into the horizon of memory, she reflected on the long, arduous road behind her. Those days of laughter and late-night hijinks during the beginning stages of the website were now marred by disturbing feelings of bitterness and resentment. What was it that caused a once great team brimming with a strong work ethic and dedication to something greater than all of them to now disintegrate?

And to think, this all started because of a challenge you issued...

NEW ORLEANS-DAYS PRIOR...

"I'm telling you Marsha, the staff is burned out! We all need a break! I see your position, but enough is enough already. Not another damn challenge!"

The stifling heat of another hot summer only exacerbated the rising tension in the room. The city hailed this as the hottest summer on record, leading up to the dreaded anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. The events of August 29, 2005, left an overwhelming sense of anxiety for many in the city. The mental health crisis in New Orleans was already staggering. Compounded by another increasing murder rate, failing infrastructure, and corruption, the heat did its best to stir things to a fever pitch. Wiping the sweat from his brow due to the air conditioning faltering, Noah Samuels was nearly at his brink.

"Our engagement has been through the roof this summer. We're doing great numbers, people are producing more and more content and major sponsors are taking notice. This cruise is just what the staff needs at this moment."

Thirty-six years old and a Loyola University graduate, Noah was one of those buttoned-down preppy types, a real self-starter who had a natural gift for making the most out of negative situations. The woman, Marsha was thirty-four, a graduate of Tulane University with a Masters in Communications. Together they formed Who Dat Media four years ago. What started as an outlet for the local color of the city quickly morphed into a social media giant, providing an outlet for content creators to network with other artists, promote their work, and even make some extra cash on the side. As the site became more popular, and with ad revenue stacking up, the duo got the idea to add as an incentive monthly competitions, or 'challenges'. Writers from all over could submit material based on the assigned topic. Usually, it was short fiction, anywhere from 600-2500 words. The benefit of this was twofold. It gave writers from all over the opportunity to showcase their work with the promise of exposure and potential for handsome winnings. It also set Who Dat Media apart from other content websites that mostly just served as farms of endless work that usually went nowhere.

In the beginning stages of the website, the challenges were great for both writers and staff. Both sides of the fence would have something to add to their portfolio. In the case of Who Dat Media, the quality of the content led to ad revenue. This lit a fire under Marsha, who only operated on one level: GO. With so many entries coming through and attention growing, the staff was starting to get burned out.

"Dude, have you looked at our numbers recently?" she fired back. Yes, they have been good this summer, but they did take a bit of a dip last month. We now have the anniversary of Katrina coming up just before the Fall season, which means back to school, and Josh still hasn't finished his piece on all these extravagant trips our little mayor has been taking."

This was a source of controversy for many of the city's residents. It was reported that the mayor had amassed expenses over $250,000 of taxpayers' money toward extravagant trips abroad, complete with high-level security and hotels. While the city's elite were fattening their pockets, the city's residents were fuming and demanding change. Something had to give, and this was something that got under Marsha's skin. Josh was one of the most promising writers on the team, and the fact that he hadn't turned in a story on this didn't sit well with her. A story of this magnitude broken first by the website would be a huge deal.

"Did you not forget that Josh has been dealing with his mother who is in the hospital sick?"

"Oh come on Noah, she just has a cold. It should clear up in a few days and he can get back to his priorities. We need that story, and I can't do everything around here. My hands are full as it is!"

The tension in the room along with the rising heat was stifling. On the large table between them rested one of the few vices Marsha allowed herself in this life. An ornate absinthe fountain coupled with glasses and perforated spoons sat between them. This was a habit she'd picked up several years prior, just after the death of her mother. Before that, it would've been a shock to catch Marsha with so much as a beer. Now she was drinking, sometimes at the office even. Granted, everyone on staff had a glass of absinthe at the office now and then, especially to celebrate. This, on the other hand, was not only becoming noticeable but spiraling out of control. While Marsha was always a strong taskmaster, the event of her mother's death changed things. The drinking coupled with abuse of painkillers due to an assault and robbery earlier in the year made things worse. The staff had grown increasingly tired of her erratic behavior, temper tantrums, and endless demands. Everyone needed a break, and this cruise before the Fall season rush was just what they needed to decompress. With Marsha's behavior and demands getting out of control, they all knew something had to give. Acknowledging the bottle of painkillers on the table, Noah peered daggers straight into her.

"A cold? Are you serious? His mother is in the hospital with COVID! You do realize people have been dying from this! What is wrong with you?"

"I understand that Noah, but this expose is important, think of the numbers that could do for us-"

"Yeah I get it, another Louisiana politician busted for corruption. Wow, it's not like that's ever happened at any other time in history! Look, I didn't want to be the one to say it, but everyone here is fed up with what we've all had to witness. The excessive demands, the mood swings, your obsession with this website, and of course the drinking. Marsha, you have a problem."

There was a deafening silence in the room that was unsettling. Throughout their time working together, no one ever had the guts to talk to Marsha that way, especially Noah. In many ways, he was her anchor, but enough was enough. This needed to be said.

"You're an alcoholic who abuses prescription medicine and you need help. Josh works his ass off, especially with what he's dealing with and we all need this cruise to unwind and decompress. I never wanted to say anything in front of the staff but we all see it. You have got to get help."

Noah's strength eventually wilted to nervous tension as Marsha's countenance lifted against the rising heat. Her back stiffened, and her eyes trained on him with laser-like precision.

"Let's get something understood...partner. We may have started Who Dat Media together, but don't you or anyone else here forget who's the brains behind this little success story of ours'. Without me, you'd be highly caffeinated in the corner of some shithole cafe cranking out shithole 'How to Make Money Online' articles for some second-rate content farm making $3 per month.

"Marsha look, I'm just-"

She quickly waved her hand in his direction, silencing him before making herself a drink. Noah studied the open bottle of pills on the table. She quickly popped one of the little white jewels back, followed by her usual dose of the green fairy.

"This is where I tell you what the bottom line is. This is where I tell you how things need to be done. Since I'm the one who calls the shots here, here's what's going to happen. If anyone on this staff has a problem with how things are run, you are more than welcome to find employment elsewhere. As for Josh, I'm sorry about his mother, but my mother isn't lying in a hospital bed. She's dead, and I still manage to show up for work. Having said that, Josh has a week to get that expose done, which is more than generous considering the time he's had already."

Noah looked on dumbfounded but with a rising sense of anger. This had gone on long enough.

"Now as for this cruise," she continued. "You are 100% correct, we all need a break. I'll allow the cruise but with with one small caveat. We're doing one more writing challenge before the Fall season, and I have the perfect theme for it."

Noah could feel his blood boiling as his heart began racing.

"I think I'll call this one 'Overboard'. Same rules as usual. Writers will have to write a piece anywhere between 600 to 2500 words. The prize will be $600. The storyline must end with a main character going overboard either a boat or ship. Think of it as a metaphor for the staff of this website."

And with those words, Marsha left the room. With clenched fists and nearly biting his tongue off, Noah watched her walk away, then turned his attention to the opened bottle of pills.

NEW ORLEANS-PRESENT DAY...

It wouldn't be much longer before bullets of rain danced along the soon-to-be-soaked envelope she held onto while trying to stay afloat. The skies above were fuming with a brooding sense of finality. The salty murkiness of the mighty Mississippi splashed in her eyes as she watched the famous Cajun Queen sail off into the horizon. Despite what she couldn't fathom would ever happen, it was then that she finally came to terms with the end. The peace that was to come; the peace that had all but eluded her would now embrace her like a lost child returning home. The group finally had enough, and this was the result. Lost in a beautiful haze of absinthe and painkillers coursing through her system, what was pain had now become exquisite pleasure...

She couldn't believe it. How dare these bastards do this to me? I'm the boss, the editor of Who Dat Media! I sign their paychecks! How dare they?

As swiftly as she had guzzled another couple of painkillers followed by absinthe, they'd come into her room. Noah, Josh, and the rest of the staff converged on her like ravenous dogs, thirsty for the hunt. In those fleeting moments, she tried to piece it all together. She was certainly no stranger to the effects of absinthe but...

The last drink she remembered having was far more complex...and stronger...

Those bastards...those no-good bastards have drugged me, she thought. The near-crippling waves and salty murkiness of the mighty Mississippi tossed her weakened body to and fro, with the visage of the Cajun Queen slowly growing smaller into the horizon of memory. Trying to piece it all together, and slowly coming to the stark realization of what had transpired, she noticed the envelope fastened to her wrist with a rubber band. Struggling to remain afloat while snatching the letter from her wrist, she could see the skies above brooding with a haunting sense of finality. Ripping open the wet envelope to read the apparent letter inside, her eyes widened when she read what was written.

YOU SHOULD NOT READ THESE WORDS...