A Word

Hello, readers!

I wrote this story in my free time. I hope you like it

Monica opened her eyes and moaned. She felt the world slowly away beneath her.  

She turned sideways averting her eyes from the unfamiliar sky, and gasped.

A boy was next to her. On a boat. In the ocean.

THEY WERE ON A BOAT.

The boy's eyes widened. His mouth was gagged. Then, Monica realized, so was hers.

They were bound and gagged. On a boat. In the middle of the ocean. Monica wondered who would do this. It seemed PERFECTLY REASONABLE to wake up on a boat with a stranger. Perfectly reasonable. She sighed. As if her life wasn’t stressful enough already, what with her friends teasing her about… What had they been teasing her about?

Then the boy nudged her foot. He had freed his hands! She was suddenly filled with hopelessness. The boy would leave, and then she would be left to starve. To death. On a boat. In the middle of the ocean.

But suddenly her hands were unbound as well, and the boy stepped silently around to her front. The boy squinted at her. She simply stared back. They both looked around, their minds following parallel lines of thought. There was only a knife, left carelessly sitting on the edge of the boat. Without speaking, they could tell there was no food. There was no fresh water. They would starve here, and die of dehydration before that.

Unless...

Monica motioned to the water, and made a motion that the boy understood meant jump. His forehead creased with concern, and he shook his head hurriedly. He couldn't swim. At that moment, Monica decided to remove her gag.

"Not swim," Monica whispered, her voice hoarse from shouting words she couldn't remember. The boy fiddled with his gag until it fell to the deck of the boat.

"What...?" he replied, his voice just as strained. "I can't hear you."

Monica took a few unsteady steps toward him until they were inches apart.

She leaned toward him.

And whispered in his ear.

"We should jump."

His dark eyes showed confusion and worry, a mix that accentuated his sharp nose.

"There are sharks..." he said, his voice scratchy, doubtful.

"We'll die either way."

He squinted over Monica's shoulder. The sun had risen and menacing shadows danced at the corners of the horizon. Then he nodded.

Together, they walked to the edge of the boat.

"After you," the boy grinned.

Monica smirked at him and stepped onto the rail.

Pain.

A smooth cool burning in her back.

She crumpled to the deck, barely able to wimper.

The boy was standing over her.

A knife in his hand.

Blood dripped.

Her blood.

Then a warm, salty drop hit her nose. He was crying.

He mouthed the words,

"I'm sorry."

Monica closed her eyes. And suddenly remembered the word she'd screamed. It was STOP.

And then another word popped into her head.

It was a horrible word.

She hated it already. She didn't want her last memory to be this word. So she opened her eyes, and asked the boy for his name.

He whipped his head back to look at her. "Ran--"

Then she heard no more.

Many days later, Randal ran out of food. He spent his days working, as it kept his mind off of what he had done. But when he realized his horrible act wouldn't even support him, he stopped.

He knew how he'd gotten the food, no matter how he tried to forget.

He swore he never would have done it again. He told himself that he was better than that, that something had gone wrong. He said that if he had a chance, he would have made a different choice.

But the harshest of his realities was not what he had done.

He kept it a secret even from himself.

But somehow he knew, that if he could change the past... He wouldn't.

Dark.

Light.

Dark.

Light.

This was His life.

He knew not of who He was.

He only knew Hunger.

And a Thirst so much worse.

He could not shed tears over what he had done.

And a Word.

The Word.

The horrible Word.

He hated it, partly because he knew it Was a part of him now. Anything so like Him should be hated. And he sighed. His eyes closed. Slowly. Slowly.

He didn't want the Word to be His last, but He knew He deserved it. He exhaled. And with the breath, came the Word.

The Word raced through His once-proud mind. It had won.

It slithered into His mouth, into His eyes, into his Heart. It grasped His tattered soul and dug in, taking all It could in Its final moments. He shook as it left Him. He had cursed all that he knew.

He was almost glad.

It had lost its power over Him, for He too had been holding on.

He pitied the poor soul who it would leach upon next.

And then he slept for the first time in many days, but the last time, without caring if it was.

Well, that's that. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think in the comments!

You're a human, maybe you could tell me... What is the significance of a rubber duck?

Phillip