Only when it was stormy would she appear. On bright days with clear skies, she was nowhere to be found nor seen, even when wind whipped over the ocean surface, ’til it was a roiling mess of white. But when the clouds grew dark and the sky went grey, she appeared as if she’d risen from the water.
No man alive or dead had ever seen crew upon her decks, or at least, no crew of human breeding. Any ghosts had been grey and ghostly, with no appearance of living flesh. They were never seen in real action: they disappeared into the fade as soon as they were glimpsed.
Her sails were intact, barring a few small tears that never seemed to grow worse with weather, and yet she was not whipped to and fro when the winds grew hectic. She kept her path, straight and true, despite the furious waters and the froth hitting her deck.
She was a phantom ship. Not one man had managed to board her, this mystical vessel run by invisible crewmen that held magic over the waters themselves.
They said she would run by ships doomed to sink, but if that were true the story would not have spread. No, she appeared for different reasons.
What that reason was? No man could say.
There are few good omens at sea.
She was not one of them.
Johannes Evans is a writer, photographer, and bug enthusiast from the South of Wales, now living on the West Coast of Ireland. He loves playing with humour, contemporary fantasy ideas, and fae lore.
His first book, Heart of Stone, is an 18th-century romance between a vampire and his personal secretary, and can be purchased here.
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