The Ghost Ship

S.O.S. from Ourang Medan * * * We float. All officers including the captain, dead in chartroom and on the bridge. Probably whole of crew dead * * *.

I think I sent other dashes and dots over the radio, but I have very little control of my body anymore. I can barely breathe through the fog that has enveloped our ship, and I know that the end is near.

I muster all the remaining energy that I have left to turn from the radio and look back at the bodies of the crew lying all around me.

No injuries. No illness. Just frozen with their eyes wide in fear…even our poor dog.

My eyes widen, and I gasp as a pair of glowing red eyes emerges from the fog. A woman’s form soon follows, drifting inches above the surface of the ship. She reaches a clawed hand out to me, and I can feel my heart pounding harder and harder against my ribs.

“Please, no.”

But she curls her hand tighter, and my heart beats harder, until the pain is unable.

I reach back to send one last message in Morse code, and then I slide down the table to the floor. I can only hope that my words warn off the next ship to pass through these coordinates.

I die.

* * *

Author’s Note: This microfiction is based on the urban legend of the SS Ourang Medan, which you can learn more about from the link below.