{WIP} "Pirate Novel" Opening scene (Nihilian Effect)

Opening scene

"Lonan! Hold tight to that reel. Turn harder, boy!"

"I'm trying, father," Lonan grumbled, gripping the crank's wet handle as hard as he could. His tanned arms shook under the effort of reeling in the fishing net.

One more turn, and the net broke free of the water's surface. The boat rocked with the sudden lack of tension. Lonan locked the reel and leaned to the side, struggling to make the crane turn as his father yanked the net full of fish onto the boat.

"Alright, son. Let it drop."

Lonan kicked the lock loose, and the crank spun in reverse. The haul landed on the deck with a thud. Fish spilled out, sliding in all directions. Lonan looked to his father; the old man's eyes were alight with satisfaction.

"Finally, a decent load," he said, a grin splitting his lean, rough face. "This will make a great payday."

Lonan sighed in relief at the thought of his family having some money, if only for a little while. They could eat a meal that contained some other meat than fish. His mother could buy a new dress, and his father pants that were not made of patches. Much like his family's clothes, their fishing boat was in dire need of repairs, with its patchwork sails and two boarded-up windows. Lonan knew that the amount of money they would receive would not solve all of their problems, but it would be nice not to live so close to the edge for a while.

Days with good hauls were rare. The fish were getting harder to find. His family relied on their fishing for survival. Living so near the ocean could already be perilous, and yet the waning fish forced them to scour further into more dangerous waters.

Looking over the gently rolling ocean toward the island cliffs of his home, Lonan dreamed of the day he would leave it all behind. He did not want to end up just another fisherman from a fishing village filled with fishermen, whose dilapidated boats were from an age as lost and forgotten as they were. He did not want to be swallowed by the sea and forgotten.

His father opened the hatch in the deck at the base of the mast behind the wheelhouse and grabbed two wide brooms. Handing one to Lonan, they began sweeping the fish into the storage area below deck. Lonan pushed against the pile of flopping creatures and lost his footing. He slammed chest-first onto the deck and knocked his chin against the wet wood. His father rushed to his rescue, but Lonan stopped him when he noticed a multicolored glint among the pile of fish. The fish themselves shone in the sunlight, but not like that. He shoved his hand into the pile and removed a round, crystalline object. Its entire surface was decorated with bumps and grooves in a squiggly pattern.

"By Andreus, what is this. It looks like a brain," his father said.

Lonan had never seen a brain that looked like that, but he had only seen fish and rabbit brains. "What kind of brain?"

"A human brain, maybe, except this is round like a ball." His father took it from the boy's hands and turned it over repeatedly. Sunlight shining through it cast miniature rainbows across the ship. "No divisions like a normal brain."

"Do you think it might be worth something?"

His father paused and gave Lonan a wide smile. "Aye, that it might, boy."

Lonan's father whistled a merry tune while he swept the final haul of the day below deck, seeming as giddy as his son. The sun had set, and world was black beyond the light of the boat's lanterns even with the occasional moonlight. Lonan sat in the wheelhouse with a bandage on his chin and a sandwich in his hands that his mother had prepared. He should have been hungry after all the work he had done that day, but his excitement was overwhelming. He was fixated on the brain-like sphere on the table in front of him, his mind reeling with the thoughts of what they could do with the wealth it might bring.

Picking up the object, Lonan held it close to his face. Something granular swirled deep within it, flowing effortlessly as if filled with water. He turned the brain over as he peered into it, and light from the wheelhouse lamp reflected through it. Blinking, he leaned away to rub his eyes.

The boat lurched, tossing Lonan to the floor. He climbed to his feet and grabbed onto the dashboard to steady himself as the vessel rocked. The water around the boat crested, small waves slapping against each other. They had hit something, stirring the sea around them, but they should have been too far from the shore for that.

"Lonan!"

Wobbling, the boy threw open the wheelhouse door and made his way across the deck to where his father clutched the net crane for support. "What happened, father?"

His father opened his mouth, but then paused and asked, "Why do you have that with you?"

The boy looked down to see the crystal brain in his hand. He had not realized that he had brought it with him.

"Look there!" his father continued, pointing beyond the edge of the boat.

Among the dark, roiling water, webbed red spikes the height of a grown man/spikes with red flesh webbed between them rose from the surface, glimmering in the lantern light. They submerged, then appeared again, sinuating through the water along side the boat, taller than the wheelhouse.

"A varinth," said his father, his voice shaky. "A big one."

Fear shot down Lonan's spine. His breath caught in his throat, and his knees began to shake. He had heard the tales of boats vanishing, of massive sea monsters swallowing vessels whole. Those who had survived described creatures of varying size that were a mishmash of aquatic anatomy. Every description was different, with some appearing more similar to insects. Everyone knew the dangers. Such was a fisherman's life. Until now Lonan had never been seen one, and he wished it had stayed that way.

He looked to his father for help. The old man's face was calm, determined. He had survived an encounter with the varinth years back while working for a crew. None of the others had been found afterward. He never talked about it, his face gaining a faraway look when asked.
"Here it comes," his father said. A hint of worry touched his father's eyes, if not for his own safety, then for Lonan's. The old man grabbed a pair of floaters and handed one to the boy. "Hold tight to the railing and be ready for anything!"

Lonan turned just in time to see the spikes strike the boat from the side.

More to come...