Here is a more conventional story to satisfy my critics who say I can't write.
The small island absorbed the bright hot sun and shimmered in its heat that rose back up into a clear blue sky that met the ocean half way to infinity.
Miranda and Barnaby stared over the side of the boat into a clear sea. Six meters down, was another boat that had treasure on board.
Rumi Jones was still down there scooping up the last of it while Miranda and Barnaby kept watch, ready to winch the home-made cage up in case of any trouble, and trouble meant only one thing in those waters: shark. Barnaby had a smile on his face as he turned toward Miranda.
“Miranda, how would you like to sail away with me? With this treasure of mine I’ll be rich. You could join me and we could have anything we want.”
“It’s always been Rumi and me, you know that,” said Miranda.
“Miranda, come on, me and you together, have a little fun,” said Barnaby stroking her arm.
“Barnaby, stop it. Look, my god, Rumi’s in trouble, he’s being attacked by a giant shark. Barnaby, we must get help.”
“It’s too late for Rumi. I reckon it’s just you and me now,” drawled Barnaby.
“What do you mean?” screamed Miranda. “Stop this. We’ve got to help Rumi.”
She ran for the winch but Barnaby grabbed her in a grip too strong to resist, her face was forced to his, her lips were enveloped by two squirming worms of lust as he kissed her.
Miranda was frantic with dread that Rumi was in bad trouble, but she had trouble of her own and had to deal with that first. She managed to bring her knee up between Barnaby’s legs, but it only brought her a momentary respite, for she hadn’t done it hard enough, but a moment was all she needed to get away.
She ran towards the wheelhouse with Barnaby in close pursuit. Almost making it, she tripped over something and crashed through the doorway. Barnaby grabbed her by the feet and started to haul her out.
“Come out of there,” he growled. “Come out now, or I’ll throw you overboard with your boyfriend.”
Miranda cried out with pain as her hold was wrenched from the door frame. But she was not defeated yet. As Barnaby leaned over her to pull her up, she raked his ugly face with her nails. A blinding light was the last thing she saw when Barnaby hit her with his meaty hand.
“I’ll deal with you later,” threatened Barnaby, stepping over her into the wheelhouse.
Over sixteen feet and three thousand pounds of cold blooded madness, and all there was between it and Rumi were some thin steel bars. Its grotesque head, scarred by its past victim’s struggles, was joined to an immense bulk that knew no fear.
It battered at the cage in frustrated fury, never taking its beady matt black eyes from its intended dinner.
Somehow Rumi had managed to get inside the cage, losing one fin to the shark.
He hung on to the bars of the cage but knew they would not last much longer against the appalling ferocity of the brute.
The diesel engines coughed into life, turning the propellers, creating a foaming wash that sent the great white into even more of a fury. It attacked the boat, butting and biting the keel and rudder. Rumi was glad its attentions were not on him, but the hull was not made to stand up to such punishment. Any moment he expected it to cave in. One of the propellers gouged a chunk out of the shark’s tough hide, it didn’t seem to notice, but the prop was mangled.
One of the engines screamed and then stopped. The boat was banged and rocked as Barnaby fussed around trying to get it started again.
Miranda groaned as consciousness returned. She remembered Rumi needed help and tried to push herself up, but was overcome by nausea. She lay still for a few moments until it passed, then tried again. There was a pain in the left side of her face as she gritted her teeth and climbed to her feet. She almost lost her balance as the boat rocked alarmingly, but grabbing hold of the door she steadied herself. Barnaby had his back to her and didn’t notice she was standing.
Miranda knew what she had to do. She loosened the clips that held the fire extinguisher and slowly eased it out of its straps. Raising it above her head in two hands she crept across the floor. Barnaby didn’t hear her as she brought it down on his head, making a dull thud. He slumped across the wheel, groaning.
It went as suddenly as it had come, but Rumi knew that those fish could come back again and catch you unawares, so with the most extreme caution he eased himself out of the cage, and then broke for the surface swimming madly.
He made it in record time. As he climbed out of the sea onto the deck of the boat, Miranda, hearing him rushed to his side.
“Rumi, I was so worried when I saw the shark, but I couldn’t do anything. Barnaby stopped me. Oh Rumi, are you all right?”
“Where is he?” asked Rumi angrily.
“He’s in there.” Miranda pointed to the wheelhouse.
“I hit him on the head with the fire extinguisher,” she said.
“That’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to him,” growled Rumi as he brushed past Miranda.
“Stop right there,” shouted Barnaby, appearing in the doorway with a gun.
Two meters separated Rumi from Barnaby, but two meters too far. Rumi stopped abruptly, water still dripping from his wet-suit. He knew Barnaby was mad, he also knew that, unlike the killer below, Barnaby wouldn’t suddenly go away. Rumi felt helpless.
There was a bump from below and the boat gave a sudden lurch, throwing Barnaby off balance. Rumi, used to the pitching of small boats kept his feet. He dived for the doorway and grabbed Barnaby’s arm. As they struggled desperately, the gun went off and made a hole in the cabin ceiling.
With the strength of madness, Barnaby flung Rumi from him and ran outside.
Rumi followed close behind, afraid Barnaby was going for Miranda, but he needn’t have worried, for as he came through the door, Miranda who had not been idle, had picked up a fishing net and thrown it over Barnaby. Barnaby became entangled and fell to the deck struggling.
“Well done,” said Rumi as he walked up to Miranda.
“What shall we do with him now?” asked Miranda.
“Straight over the side, that’s what I’d like to do with him,” said Rumi angrily.
“You can’t murder him,” said Miranda.
“Well that’s what he tried to do me. The water was very murky as if blood had been poured into it. That’s why the shark showed up,” said Rumi.
“You still can’t murder him Rumi. It wouldn’t be right. What if we leave him on the island? There’s plenty of fresh water and we could give him some of our food to supplement what he can catch for himself? When we get to safety we can tell someone where he is,” said Miranda.
“Right,” agreed Rumi. “That’s what we’ll do then. Help me lift him into the dingy.”
“You can’t steal my treasure. It’s mine,” shouted Barnaby struggling in the net. He managed to struggle free of the net but lost his balance. Rumi tried to grab him, but too late. Barnaby tipped over the side into the sea. Rumi and Miranda rushed to the boat’s rail and stared over.
“There, look!” Shouted Miranda, “he’s swimming for the shore. Do you think he’ll make it?”
“Depends where the shark it,” said Rumi.
Barnaby made it to the shore and pulled himself out of the water. He stood on the beach shaking his fist at them.
Miranda shivered.
“I’d hate to be ship-wrecked with him. Can we go now Rumi?”
“I’ve got to check the engines first,” said Rumi.
“How much do you think the treasure is worth?” asked Miranda, as Rumi looked over the diesel engines.
“Millions I expect,” said Rumi. “I counted forty bars of gold and three large chests of jewels when I was bringing it up.”
“I wonder where it came from?” mused Miranda.
“I’ve no idea. Maybe from some sunken galleon they found.”
“What do you mean, they?” asked Miranda.
“I forgot to tell you, what with all the fuss. I came across a locked door in the boat down there, so I busted it open. There were two bodies in there, a man and a woman. On the back of the door were words cut in with a knife: Brian and Mary Jenkins murdered by Bar… I don’t think they had time to finish what they were writing,” said Rumi.
“What a horrible way to die,” said Miranda, shivering.
“Come on Rumi, let’s get out of here, this place gives me the creeps.”
“Ok,” said Rumi,” I’m finished here.
As the boat started to move through the water, the weakened planks that had been battered by the shark finally caved in and the boat began to sink fast.
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Nice
Ta
Really beautiful. Don't listen to the haters; just because you don't write what they want or in the way they want doesn't mean you aren't a great writer. Do what makes you happy, no matter if it's this style or the one I've seen you have before that is also great. Critics just hate because they don't understand, nothing more.
Thank you
Its amazing
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Yes it is
We are SO proud to have you as a member of our
FANTABULOUS @steemitbloggers family!
uvoted and resteemed!
❤ MWAH!!! ❤
interested in joining the Steemit Bloggers Community?
Thank you very much
Haters gonna hate! Like vegans say: You can't please everyone, you're not an avocado, lol.
BUT I love your writing! Keep it up!
Thanks so much; I'm working on it...
I dig the twist at the end. Nice, quick story. My favorite phrase was, "squirming worms of lust." Ha!
I usually write my best at 7 in the morning over a cup of coffee. Thanks for the comment
@wales,
Good write.
Quill
Thank you so much