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Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2158994
A retelling of April 15, 1912...
Captain Smith watched Officer Murdoch race towards the bridge. A moment later, Murdoch burst through the door, a crippling cold following him inside. Oblivious to the sudden temperature change, Smith turned expectantly.

“Well?”

“We’ve found them!”

“Are you certain?” Even as he asked, he knew it was true. The soft ethereal music that made his heart beat so fast was growing louder in his head.

Murdoch couldn’t hide the smile stretching across his face. “Definitely, sir! Mr. Haines says it’s Fredrick up in the crow’s nest.”

Smith clapped his hands. “Bless that man’s eyesight! There isn’t a soul alive that can see better in the dark.” He grinned wildly at his officers, seven in total standing on his bridge. “Congratulations to all of us!”

A cheer went up at his words. They all heard the entrancing melody, a chorus of beautiful voices calling to them, yearning to feel the embrace of these passionate men. It filled them with such overwhelming desire. Any last hesitation had long since been silenced by the all-consuming music.

Suddenly the song was no longer in their heads, but outside, upon the wind. They struggled to get down to the deck as a feral hunger dug into their hearts.

From high in the crow’s nest, Fredrick Fleet’s voice could barely be heard. “Iceberg! They’re on the iceberg!”

The Captain pushed his way through the throng of men to reach the bow. The iceberg was dead ahead. He spied several women atop it while dozens more swam about. They waved invitingly to the men, the song enveloping the crew, pleading for them to hurry.

As the men began removing their clothes, Murdoch looked over at Smith and laughed. “And to think you almost turned down Titanic’s command.” Smith’s smiling reply was lost in the music.
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