Marooned on a Ghost Ship with Cannibal Rats

[Loyal]

Lets play a game of cooperative storytelling....Add a couple lines of dialogue to further the story. This might not work, but it could be fun.

The sky was gray and the clouds began to stack up on the horizon, but the lone figure lay sprawled on the bottom of the wooden boat. It looked impossibly small as it bobbed on the open water. The weary figure had his jacket pulled over his head to protect against the sun which had been a problem earlier in the day. He heard the water lap against the boat, hypnotically. Then he felt something different. He heard and felt the boat shudder as it struck something. The man threw off his coat and immediately saw the massive black hull of a ship above him.
He unsteadily stood up, cupping his hands over his mouth and screamed, "Hey! Down here! Somebody!!!"
There was no answer.
All that could be heard was the boat gently bumping against the ship, which obviously was dead in the water. The man felt rain drops hit his cheek and then he looked at the swirling darkened clouds in the distance
Storms were not friendly in the North Atlantic, he thought.
He noticed the swaying of a knotted rope hanging from the side of the ship, farther aft. He sat back down in the boat and heard the approaching thunder as he rowed his boat toward the swaying rope. He looked above and tried screaming one more time, "Hello the Ship!! Help!" Again, nothing. Considering that he would be deserting his boat to the sea if he took the rope, he made his decision. Stuffing a few water bottles in his shirt and then buttoning the shirt, he began to climb...

Your TURN!

 

[dieterbrock]

The End

 

[Loyal]

The End

bastid. You don't get off that easy....

 

[Merlin]

He scrabbled over the deck and fell on his ass, exhausted. And there on the deck next to him was an old man nude sunbathing...

 

[Loyal]

He looked more closely at the nude man and realized he was dead. The body was laid out on a red towel with a strange script Foreign writing that he couldn't understand. Moving to the far side of the body, he saw that it was picked clean of flesh...

 

[-X-]

He looked more closely at the man and realized he was dead. The body was laid out on a red towel with a strange script Foreign writing that he couldn't understand. Moving to the far side of the body, he saw that it was picked clean of flesh...

A wave of terror rushed over him as he quickly scanned the long passageways to his left and right. “This isn’t real. Zombies don’t exist”, he thought, as his mind began to flash gory scenes from one movie after another of undead creatures gnawing on limbs and feasting on entrails. As a self-proclaimed horror-movie aficionado, he knew the difference between a zombie attack victim and a victim of a serial killer. Serial killers don’t eat people, they kill for sport. Real or not, he was looking at a body laying in a pool of blood, partially dried by the sun, that had been eaten. EATEN.

It didn’t take long to convince himself that all the theories of scientifically engineered viruses were not only probable, but were now a reality. His mind began racing as he drew upon his experience as an avid spectator in zombie apocalypses. Surely this counted as preparatory training. He knew what to do. He needed a weapon - preferably something sharp that could pierce the skull - and layers of clothing to keep their rotting teeth from penetrating his flesh. His mind raced faster and faster as he realized he had none of these things and there were no doors nearby that spawned weapons or overcoats like in the movies. He panicked as he continued to scan the passageways left and right, left and right, until he looked down upon the body again and saw something else. Something he had missed in his haste to prepare for a battle with an army of the undead. There were no signs of a struggle. The man’s clothes were clean, his cheap gift-shop Panama hat was still resting on his head, and the entire left side of his body was still in-tact. No bites, no blood, no bruises, no scratches. Nothing. Even the right side wasn’t so bad now that he had looked closer. It was as if it had been raked by a huge cheese grater. Disgusting, yes, but there weren’t organs laying on the floor or severed limbs laying about. “Zombies”, he said in a mocking tone to himself. “Fuck sakes, man. Calm down. There’s an explanation for this.”

He regained his composure as the thought of having to actually face a zombie was erased. He had a new appreciation for the horrified people on screen, screaming and running for their lives now as well. “ Shit. I guess I’d freak out too”, he thought, as he realized he wasn’t as brave or strategically gifted in the art of apocalyptic war as he once thought. Shrugging off the shame of being so afraid, as if it never happened, it was now time to play detective; for he had no shortage of experience in that arena. He had seen countless movies and knew that he now had to be meticulous and methodical as he further investigated the scene. Yes, this was much more in his wheelhouse. He wasn’t afraid. It was just adrenaline, and adrenaline makes you do stupid things. He was just bracing for battle. Yes. That’s what it was. If he had actually found that weapon, things would have been much different. He’d clear that ship easily.

.....

.

Your turn.
(I took out “nude” because it didn’t fit my narrative, and I hope ... not yours)

 

[Loyal]

A wave of terror rushed over him as he quickly scanned the long passageways to his left and right. “This isn’t real. Zombies don’t exist”, he thought, as his mind began to flash gory scenes from one movie after another of undead creatures gnawing on limbs and feasting on entrails. As a self-proclaimed horror-movie aficionado, he knew the difference between a zombie attack victim and a victim of a serial killer. Serial killers don’t eat people, they kill for sport. Real or not, he was looking at a body laying in a pool of blood, partially dried by the sun, that had been eaten. EATEN.

It didn’t take long to convince himself that all the theories of scientifically engineered viruses were not only probable, but were now a reality. His mind began racing as he drew upon his experience as an avid spectator in zombie apocalypses. Surely this counted as preparatory training. He knew what to do. He needed a weapon - preferably something sharp that could pierce the skull - and layers of clothing to keep their rotting teeth from penetrating his flesh. His mind raced faster and faster as he realized he had none of these things and there were no doors nearby that spawned weapons or overcoats like in the movies. He panicked as he continued to scan the passageways left and right, left and right, until he looked down upon the body again and saw something else. Something he had missed in his haste to prepare for a battle with an army of the undead. There were no signs of a struggle. The man’s clothes were clean, his cheap gift-shop Panama hat was still resting on his head, and the entire left side of his body was still in-tact. No bites, no blood, no bruises, no scratches. Nothing. Even the right side wasn’t so bad now that he had looked closer. It was as if it had been raked by a huge cheese grater. Disgusting, yes, but there weren’t organs laying on the floor or severed limbs laying about. “Zombies”, he said in a mocking tone to himself. “Fuck sakes, man. Calm down. There’s an explanation for this.”

He regained his composure as the thought of having to actually face a zombie was erased. He had a new appreciation for the horrified people on screen, screaming and running for their lives now as well. “ Shit. I guess I’d freak out too”, he thought, as he realized he wasn’t as brave or strategically gifted in the art of apocalyptic war as he once thought. Shrugging off the shame of being so afraid, as if it never happened, it was now time to play detective; for he had no shortage of experience in that arena. He had seen countless movies and knew that he now had to be meticulous and methodical as he further investigated the scene. Yes, this was much more in his wheelhouse. He wasn’t afraid. It was just adrenaline, and adrenaline makes you do stupid things. He was just bracing for battle. Yes. That’s what it was. If he had actually found that weapon, things would have been much different. He’d clear that ship easily.

.....

.

Your turn.
(I took out “nude” because it didn’t fit my narrative, and I hope ... not yours)

He moved from the deck to a nearby ladder/stair heading up to the pilot house. He climbed and reached the top and saw open passage near the guard rail, with overturned chairs on the deck. He turned right toward the door of the pilot house, he saw an old fashioned life preserver with the name "Orlova" stencilled on it. The name was familiar but didn't know why. He opened to door and stepped inside. It had stations with brass instruments but with foreign words and a foreign alphabet that he didn't understand. The steering wheel moved a little, back and forth. The rain started to fall hard outside. He moved near the forward windows and looked down for the body on the deck.
It was gone.
Where there had been the sound of wind and rain outside, he heard a strange sound behind him. He couldn't place the sound at first. It was like the gnashing of teeth? He looked down and saw a huge rat. It moved slowly and mechanically toward him. He could see that one of its eyes was missing along with flesh from its side. Its lone eye was white and looked like a doll's eye. The nasty thing looked dead and yet it moved. He wound up as though he was kicking a field goal and kicked it hard. The thing bounced against the glass , leaving a blacked smudge, as it fell to the deck with a dull thud. For a moment it lay on its back, still. But then, it rolled over and pointed toward him again, moving as before. Slowly, gnashing its teeth...