The Waterwood Box, 71

Catch up!

Ramata was out the door without a word. The water-folk swam along one of the ship’s decks and followed it to a large opening into the ship’s interior. Ramata swam into the ship and and down three flights of a wide stairwell. Adam and Spot followed close behind the water-folk. All were nervous and silent, wary of the sharks. The interior of the ship was grim and dark; precious little light came through from above.

“Get in close. Don’t lose me.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” whispered Spot.

“Well, I know where I’ve been and where I saw the Turtle the last time. Now be quiet.”

Ramata led them down one more flight of stairs to swim in front of a pair of brass-handled, double wide, swinging doors.

Spot whispered, “What’s in there?”

“Soon, we’ll be.”

“Is that where the Turtle is?”

“I hope so,” Ramata said and pushed the doors open.

Inside the room Adam saw row upon row of chairs covered with torn, red fabric from which leaked bundles of dull, cream-colored and rotting padding. The rows sloped downward and at the bottom of the room they saw an elevated wooden platform. This used to be one of the ship’s theaters. The curtains that once covered the stage now hung in red, ragged strips, rotting like the chairs. The stage itself was riddled with holes and cracks. Adam wondered how long the ship had been under water.

“So now what?” he asked the other two.

“Well, I don’t know. Wait, I guess.”

“You don’t-. Spot, Ramata doesn’t know. All this way and Ramata doesn’t know what’s next…,” Adam shrugged his shoulders and swam down into a row of seats. He found one that was still mostly upholstered and tried to sit down in it despite his constricting swim suit. Spot swam up to the top of the room and back down again. Ramata moved to one corner of the theater and stayed there, quiet. No one talked. Adam sat in his seat, looked at the stage, and tried to imagine the shows that once graced it. He dreamed up dance numbers, magic acts, and smile-soaked songs. After a while, the noise in his head became overwhelmed by the lonely silence around him.

The Waterwood Box, 71

Sock it to me

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