The Holiday

‘Well isn’t this lovely’ I spat, ‘next time you are planning a lads holiday, leave me out of it.’ I was currently up the creek without a paddle, not that it was my friend Simon’s fault but human nature demanded that someone take the blame.

‘Don’t blame me’ Simon retorted, ‘Marcus hired the boat.’

It started nearly a week earlier. Simon came to my flat to whisk me away on a “lads” holiday to Sicily for a bit of sun, sea, sand and sensational ladies. I had been downtrodden since my divorce; I had hoped that Natalie and I would reconcile given Natalie’s proclivities for showing up at all hours demanding sex, but when the Decree Absolute came in the post I sank into a deep depression. Simon swooped in ‘Marcus, Bradley, John and I are taking a trip to Sicily for a week, maybe more’ he said as he pulled open the blinds and curtains of my flat, bathing me in the bright glare of the summer sun, ‘get your bags packed because you’re coming too.’

It had been a good holiday; I enjoyed the days we spent exploring Palermo and Agrigento, enjoying a day lying on the beach of San Leone and the nightlife Agrigento had to offer, need I say more. It wasn’t long before Marcus suggested we hire a boat and sail up the Italian coast to spend a few days on the mainland. On paper this sounded like a good way to end our so far great holiday.

Early this morning we checked out of our accommodations and boarded the boat Marcus hired that would take us from Taormina to our destination of Pizzo on the Calabrian coast, it had to be Pizzo because the boat’s owner had family there. We approached the Strait of Messina, a small channel connecting the Tyrrhenian Sea and Ionian Sea between Sicily’s Messina and Italy’s Scilla.

We had just passed Messina when the weather took a turn for the worst. Rain drenched the boat from above whilst the winds picked up the waves and battered them against the hull. We were thrown about the deck like insults at an Old Firm game and soaked through like a cheap piece of kitchen roll. It wasn’t long before a waved capsized the boat and we were cast into the water like the passengers of the Titanic, which would be an accurate description of what happened next, the boat sank bow first and all our belongings went down with it.

I thanked the gods that Marcus insisted we wear life jackets; but I wished that I had a wetsuit or drysuit on instead of chinos and a linen shirt. ‘Well, it possibly couldn’t get any worse’ I stated, ‘at least the weather has calmed.’

Simon looked around ‘Erm guy’ he said worryingly, ‘where’s Sicily and Italy?’

Marcus looked around, being the most experienced sailor ‘I have no idea’ he said trying to hide the nervous tone in his voice.

We were nearly at the narrowest part of the Strait of Messina; Sicily and Italy would be roughly two miles apart at our current location, but we could see neither landmass. Despite the calm seas and clear skies, we were for all intents and purposes, stranded. Simon chipped in to the conversation ‘What could possibly be worse than this?’

It was at this time the universe decided to bend us over and proverbially shaft us; a naked woman with dark blue skin, glowing red eyes, and long white locks of hair emerged from the water in the direction we thought Italy was in. She was beautiful, very attractive body and when I say she was naked I mean she was naked. Part of me hoped she was some sex mad siren come to help us to shore in exchange for a bit of “How’s Your Father?” But all dreams of an erotic encounter with this woman were dashed when her lower half emerged from the waves. I put all thoughts of her being a beautifully seductive siren out of mind, and replaced them with thoughts of Eldritch abominations from beyond the stars.

Instead of the usual legs and other parts a woman usually had below the waist, where her pelvis should be was a quartet of snarling dog heads, and below the heads was a cluster of tentacles, each tentacle ended in a serpentine maw. As if the universe could read our thoughts; it once again decided to add more proverbial buggering to our already buggered party.

From the Sicily side of the strait a large whirlpool formed but it wasn’t hoovering us up like a Dyson, no something monstrous was emerging from it. It started out as teeth rising from the swirling vortex; soon tendrils and tentacles emerged and began whipping the air in all directions. Below the waterline of the vortex we could see two huge eyes glowing with a golden malevolence.

A voice spoke, it was the odd blend of the musical notes of a songbird combined with the sounds of concrete in a food processor. Both enchanting and nightmare inducing ‘I am Scylla!’ It was the half naked Eldritch horror speaking, ‘and this is my good friend Charybdis.’

It would be a fair assumption that right now a collection of bodily fluids were being introduced to the Strait of Messina and not exactly pleasant ones ‘Wh….wh….what do you want?’ I said wetting myself with fear, not that you could tell given our situation.

‘Oh nothing in particular’ Scylla said mockingly, ‘but Charybdis is hungry and she does enjoy the taste of men.’

I desperately tried not to laugh at the obvious euphemism in Scylla’s words but I was never going to get another chance to be clever ‘That’s what she said.’

The group chuckled and tried to stifle their laughter but decided that if they were going to die, we should die laughing.