Hmm, so... you're blocking me from accessing your blog because I mentioned Ms. Slithery? That's so woke :-P
Blocked Normally I'm woken by sunlight; the cabin I picked out is on the east-facing side of the ship and the sunrise wakes me as I never remember to draw the curtains. The curtains are small, as befits as porthole, and torn, which suggests something about what happened here before I chose it that I've decided not to think about. I'm not sure that drawing them would be all the effective anyway, come to think of it. This morning I woke late because rainclouds had gathered and kept the sky dark and grey; I woke when the cold lashing rain found its way through the porthole and onto my face. Sitting up I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and remembered the events of the night before. I shivered, partly from the rain and partly from the image of Chuckles falling limply to the floor. Closing the porthole I got up. A lot of things on this ship have failed while we've been stranded out here but the showers still work in a lot of places. My guess is that they use seawater somehow, probably desalinated since I haven't noticed salt on my skin much unless I've been standing where waves can hit me. How a desalinator can be silently running on the ship is also a puzzle but not one I'd thought about until now. I took a walk after I was dressed. Nothing much, just strolling casually around. Casually past the corridor where Chuckles's cabin was, and noted that there was no fuss or commotion there. Probably no-one had gone looking for him yet to find him. I considered, for a moment, looking in there myself and decided it was a bad idea. Let someone else get the accusations and suspicion.
More on mind though was the names attached to the cabins on Chuckles's deck plan, and I took a wander past all of them. Diana was empty now; the door was wide open and it looked like no-one had been in there for several days. A couple of empty rum bottles rolled around on the floor as the ship gently lifted and fell with the waves. I didn't linger, people might wonder what my interest was. I guessed that Lionel, who had been in there, was dead somehow and left my thoughts at that. Proteus made me stop though. I looked around carefully to make sure no-one was watching me and then pulled the deck-plan from my pocket to check it again. Where Chuckles had written Proteus and drawn a cabin was a blank wall. I almost tapped on it, but this was hardly a Scooby-Doo mystery, this was just the oddest prison sentence I'd ever heard of. Secret compartments on a cruise ship were ridiculous. I paced back down the corridor, staring at the floor as though I'd lost something, and after a much longer walk than I'd realised coming up I found a door. Looking through the tiny, circular window I realised that the room on the other side was one of the Entertainment Suites; circular tables were dotted around and chairs were mostly tucked into them. A few had tipped over and slid about, but the room looked empty.
I tried the door, but something on the other side blocked it.
Loving the details you're including in this tale, in case I haven't already mentioned that. And the progression of the story as the mystery unfolds is gripping.
2 comments:
Hmm, so... you're blocking me from accessing your blog because I mentioned Ms. Slithery? That's so woke :-P
Blocked
Normally I'm woken by sunlight; the cabin I picked out is on the east-facing side of the ship and the sunrise wakes me as I never remember to draw the curtains. The curtains are small, as befits as porthole, and torn, which suggests something about what happened here before I chose it that I've decided not to think about. I'm not sure that drawing them would be all the effective anyway, come to think of it. This morning I woke late because rainclouds had gathered and kept the sky dark and grey; I woke when the cold lashing rain found its way through the porthole and onto my face.
Sitting up I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and remembered the events of the night before. I shivered, partly from the rain and partly from the image of Chuckles falling limply to the floor. Closing the porthole I got up. A lot of things on this ship have failed while we've been stranded out here but the showers still work in a lot of places. My guess is that they use seawater somehow, probably desalinated since I haven't noticed salt on my skin much unless I've been standing where waves can hit me. How a desalinator can be silently running on the ship is also a puzzle but not one I'd thought about until now.
I took a walk after I was dressed. Nothing much, just strolling casually around. Casually past the corridor where Chuckles's cabin was, and noted that there was no fuss or commotion there. Probably no-one had gone looking for him yet to find him. I considered, for a moment, looking in there myself and decided it was a bad idea. Let someone else get the accusations and suspicion.
More on mind though was the names attached to the cabins on Chuckles's deck plan, and I took a wander past all of them. Diana was empty now; the door was wide open and it looked like no-one had been in there for several days. A couple of empty rum bottles rolled around on the floor as the ship gently lifted and fell with the waves. I didn't linger, people might wonder what my interest was. I guessed that Lionel, who had been in there, was dead somehow and left my thoughts at that.
Proteus made me stop though. I looked around carefully to make sure no-one was watching me and then pulled the deck-plan from my pocket to check it again. Where Chuckles had written Proteus and drawn a cabin was a blank wall. I almost tapped on it, but this was hardly a Scooby-Doo mystery, this was just the oddest prison sentence I'd ever heard of. Secret compartments on a cruise ship were ridiculous. I paced back down the corridor, staring at the floor as though I'd lost something, and after a much longer walk than I'd realised coming up I found a door. Looking through the tiny, circular window I realised that the room on the other side was one of the Entertainment Suites; circular tables were dotted around and chairs were mostly tucked into them. A few had tipped over and slid about, but the room looked empty.
I tried the door, but something on the other side blocked it.
Greg - would if I could, would if I could... :P
Loving the details you're including in this tale, in case I haven't already mentioned that. And the progression of the story as the mystery unfolds is gripping.
And... another excellent use of the prompt here.
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