Last Sip, Last Breath

• Summer Lawton, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2021

Above deck, the brightest source of light did not come from the many flames illuminating the ship. Instead, it flowed from the ethereal glow of the moon, shining through the clouded night sky. The stars lay like a dark blanket of sequins, shrouding the sun to invite the hushed twilight.
The heavy vessel trailed along slowly, like a knife creating patterns in the still waters, though the movement on deck was tidal. The wedding dance was commencing ceremoniously on board, the music jolly and booming with the strains of the violin. Each stamp and clap reverberated like a heartbeat, pounding in Elias' head.
Elias knew he should be with his friend, Benjamin, celebrating, but a burden weighed on him heavily, enough to create a shadow over him and leave him guilty and alone.
An unbearably chilly breeze rippled through the scarlet red sails, stinging at Elias' lips as he leant across the railing. As he breathed in, the familiar scent of seawater seeped into the flowery perfume about him.
He wished it to be silent, for there was not a single thing he could set his mind on as he fretfully thought from one thing to the other. Yet he knew if he attempted to cease Benjamin's wedding party, it would be in vain.
Elias thought he had never been so conflicted about anything before in his life. If his plans failed, Benjamin could very well be ruined without ever knowing how; yet success would lead both Elias and his friend down a road neither of them had been before. He was feeling remorse, a dysphoric kind of sorrow.
With a short sip and a struggling swallow of his bitter apple juice, he considered trailing below deck, to the warmth of the fire and the cosiness of the lounge. However, just as he decided he would venture down, convulsive gasps and screams shredded through the gathering of guests which made Elias whip his head around instinctively.
His heart pounded violently within his chest as if threatening to burst through his ribs. A cold wave of regret crashed over him, effective as the ocean waves before him as he caught sight of the body sprawled lifelessly in the concourses of the guests, an emptied glass in her grasp. Only the too-thick crimson dregs of the beverage that once filled the cup were left, slowly dripping onto her white, clammy hand like blood from a wound.
The body was Jessa, Benjamin's beautiful bride.
Even though Elias had known who he would be harming, he shivered. She had been so lively before, flushed and smiling as if she could turn the dusk into sunlight. Now she was a crumpled piece of parchment splayed on the deck, her moon-white skin a shock of light against the murky polished wood.
The deed was done, but it was done with the all too familiar pang of guilt that would leave a dreadful feeling to Elias' conscience, even if no one else ever found out the doing was his.