Fear

• Naomi Kah, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2015

The waves crashed onto the sand and the dune grass billowed in the howling wind. A fisherman stood on the beach, water lapping at his feet, his eyes searching for something, he had seen before, something that shouldn’t be there. Suddenly a ship appeared on the horizon. The fisherman’s brow creased. It just wasn’t possible; a ship couldn't move that fast. The fisherman rubbed his eyes and as he looked out onto the water again the ship was gone.
Shaking his head and muttering something about losing his head he turned to leave, but the ship reappeared, only this time much closer. Too close. His gaze swept over the blackened wood and the dark figures on board. His head was screaming, telling him to run, as something like this could only be bad, but the fisherman wanted to be sure, he dearly hoped that the ship wasn't dangerous, but in his heart he knew that the boat was dangerous and that if he didn’t run soon he’d be dead.
The ship turned slightly and in the dying light the fisherman could read the words emblazed on the ships side, ‘Honosphera’, it read. The fisherman’s eyes widened in shook, ‘Honosphera’ meant Soul Thief. The elders in the village had told him about a ship called 'Honosphora'. The fisherman had never believed the stories that the elders told in the village. He had always thought they were stories to scare the children. The elders had told him of a mysterious ship that sailed the seas, it was said that people killed by the pirates on board would become pirates themselves; ‘undead’ the elders had called them. 'Honosphera' was a deadly name for a deadly ship. The fisherman turned and ran, whatever the elders said, if it was true or not, the fisherman wasn’t taking chances, but before he even reached the dunes, before he could even yell for help, the fisherman slumped to the ground, an arrow embedded in his back. He was dead.
Yet the strange thing was that the fisherman had not died because of the arrow, but because of fear. The fear had smothered him like smoke, it had clogged up his windpipe, fogged his thoughts and filled his nose with the reek of death. The fear was what had killed him.
Just over the wind, shouts of glee could be heard. The pirates were obviously celebrating. A new figure stood on board the ‘Honosphera’. The figure was cloaked in the same black material as the others. Yet the figures face could still be seen.
It was the fisherman.