Fiction Story

Nemo hadn’t planned on sailing to the Edge of the World, but then again he hadn’t planned on many things. For example, it was never his intention to become real. He would have much preferred to just stay fictional. Reality brought with it consequence, and who wanted that? Now, if he fell from too high, he would probably break a bone. If he died, he couldn’t just start over again. Perhaps worst of all, though, was that he now required air to breathe, which meant no more visits to his underwater friends. Being real meant being lonely.

A large wave boomed over the side of his small vessel, drenching Nemo in salty liquids. With the instincts of a seasoned deckhand, his arm shot out, grabbing the slender mast for stability while his knees bent slightly to absorb the shock of the wave.

The Edge was less than a day away now and the ocean was in violent turmoil, crashing and spilling about as if trying to prevent further passage. The Good Witch of Barnabellum had explained to Nemo that in order to become fictional again, he would have to sail a boat over the Edge of the World while wearing a precious Dazzlestone necklace.

“We are close,” he whispered to Gerrard, his imaginary best friend, “We have to be.”

Nemo pulled a star map out of his breast pocket and checked his position. The twilight sky was on the verge of morning and this was the last time all the stars would be visible until next nightfall. However, it just so happened to be a Sunday and a few of them had decided to go to bed early. This caused Nemo great anguish, and he openly grimaced and shook his fist upward in anger.

He then swung his head horizontally in dramatic fashion and proclaimed once again to Gerrard, “Well, don’t I feel like a noodle. According to the map, we should be bumping into Noisulli Island right about n…”

The boat instantly slammed into nothing and Nemo was thrown to the deck. The precious star map, now released from his grip, took its chance to escape. It artfully soared over the rail and made a slight ‘ploop’ sound as it lightly hit the water. Nemo ignored the stinging pain in his knees and scrambled to the side of the vessel. He could only watch as the map inched further out of reach with each pulse of the tide.

And then it disappeared.

Nemo blinked his eyes in disbelief. It was really gone. He spun around in a circle just to make sure it wasn’t behind him. Nothing but endless ocean all around. A slight grin crept out of his pocket and onto his face—he was finally here. Nemo quickly ran to the cabin and grabbed an empty glass bottle of cranberry juice.

“I know it’s empty,” Nemo explained to Gerrard, with a hint of irritation.

Back outside on the deck now, he dangled dangerously over the railing and began to fill the bottle with water.

“Well duh. Of course it has to be heavier. It won’t catch on the palms if it’s not, and until then, we can’t get on the island, blah blah blah, just be quiet please. Go read your book or something.”

Before the bottle was halfway full, Nemo spotted one little eyeball staring up at him from below. It was tiny at first, but began to exponentially double in size with each second. Soon, the shady outline of a body could be seen growing from the depths at a very unfriendly speed.

Once his bottle was full, Nemo frantically secured the handle to the end of a rope and began with much effort to whirl it above his head. The rope eventually picked up speed, and the air hissed louder and louder with each revolution. Finally, when the rope-bottle combination would travel no faster, Nemo released his grip and let fly in the direction of the disappeared map. A sub-frequency rumble caused by the advancing sea-monster began to shake the water around the boat.

The bottle sailed through the air for a second or so and then completely disappeared. Nemo waited until he felt contact, then gave a decisive, sharp tug. The rope could be felt wrapping around something faster and faster until it finally caught. All that was visible to Nemo, however, was a length of rope about three meters in length standing perfectly at an angle. The boat began to violently shake as the water all around slowly started to bubble upwards.

“C’mon Gerrard!” Nemo shouted, “Jump in my pocket!”

Nemo held open his left pocket until it was clear that Gerrard was safe. He then took hold of the rope with both hands and leapt straight up, tucking in his feet underneath, and began to swing.

A massive lime green tentacle speckled with pink suction cups exploded out of the water, nearly hitting Nemo. Seconds later, another burst upwards behind him, although this time it was dark blue. Nemo glanced backwards right before the trough of his swing only to see a monolithic bone white limb erupt through the center of his boat. Infinite bits of wood flew forth in all directions.

A large plank cracked Nemo on the head and he slipped off the rope, falling unconscious with Gerrard in his pocket into the water below.


* * *


“You there—lift the skin up and put the slack of the clews into the bunt. Not too taut now!”

Nemo was alive. With his eyes still closed, he gingerly touched the area where he had been struck. His wound seemed to be adequately dressed and a bandage had been deftly wrapped around his head. The hard floor and soft rhythmic movements immediately told Nemo that he was on a boat. He peeked open an eye and began to look for the source of the loud shouting that had woke him.

The commander was a middle sized man of swarthy complexion. Dressed in long sleeves and a rich crimson waistcoat, he also donned atop his irreparably tangled head a captain’s hat which was tilted stylishly at an angle. Underneath, but still visible, was a red bandana whose colors had faded from years of salt and sun. The most striking feature, however, was the impossibly bright red feather tucked under the head cloth near his left ear. No doubt taken from some extremely rare bird captured in a past adventure, the long feather reached southward well past the bottom of his bearded jaw.

“Make fast the bunt gasket round the mast, and the jigger, if there be one, to the tie!”

His movements were quick and strong. Wide gestures from his confident arms directed his crew in a manner that resembled a conductor at the helm of a mad orchestra.

Nemo scraped himself up off the deck. The stickyness of dried saltwater on his body made movement even that much more unpleasant.

“Hullo…” he offered weakly. His greeting was instantly lost in the bustle of the ship. Nemo put on a determined face and began to slowly march towards the captain.

Once he was close enough, he gave a few short tugs on the captain’s shirt. The captain disregarded the minor irritation and continued to shout at his crew. Nemo started furiously tugging with all his might. Despite pulling hard enough to untuck the captain’s undershit, Nemo ultimately was still ignored. He then decided to just kick him on the shin. The captain bellowed a hearty “Youch!” and immediate started hopping around in small circles.

Once settled, he replied, “Why, look what we got here, mates. I told ya, he’d be fine. What one of you ruffians was it what bet against me? Slorm, was it? Pay up, thief!”

A rather large sailor slopped his way through the circle of shipmates who had begun to form around the action. He dug out a dull copper piece and begrudgingly handed it over to the captain. The Captain took it with a large grin and slapped Nemo on the back. Nemo nearly toppled over from the force of the friendly blow.

“Ho, ho! Good show, kid. You too, Slorm. Back to your station now, though. This ship won’t sail herself…”

Slorm slowly lumbered back to his post, shooting a particularly hateful glance towards Gerrard, who had just regained consciousness and had poked his head out of Nemo’s pocket. The captain leaned down towards Nemo and said with a hushed, secret-telling tone, “Well, at least that’s what we’ll let ‘em think for now, ain’t it, ho, ho , ho!”

Standing back upright, he spoke again at normal volume, which was still very much too loud, “Right, well, come to my quarters, kid, and tell me why exactly you were playing tag with the Rainbow Squid.” He motioned with his arm towards the bow of the boat. Nemo fell in step beside the captain as they walked to his cabin.