Something flew by my head, rushing past my ear in a gust of wind. I gasped and jerked away as my eyes made a futile attempt to follow it. Whatever it was disappeared into shadow and hit the deck with a soggy splat. A rancid odor wafted through the air as tittering laughter erupted around me once more, followed by a chittering growl of displeasure.
Something else flew at me, low and fast, this time hitting its mark as it smacked into my jean-clad leg with a squelchy thump. The scent of decay rose, stronger now, as I reached down in horror to slap away the wetly clinging mass. It soaked through the denim to my skin as it dripped in moist, clotted clumps down my leg. Confusion coursed through me as I identified the mess as a rotten orange.
I was pelted again and a second smelly, disintegrating object exploded against my left shoulder – this time a tomato.
My mom and I had lived near a tomato field when I was in high school, and I still remembered the overpowering stench it gave off every year after harvest time.
I was speechless. I had landed myself in the clutches of what was supposedly the most powerful force for evil in the faerie realm and they were throwing rotten fruit at me. Was this really the best they could do?
I could only hope.
Raucous, snickering laughter spewed forth from my unseen audience as I was belted with a putrefied apple. For the first time since I had been so unceremoniously dumped on the ship’s deck, a spark of anger burned brighter than my fear. I marched forward, in the direction from which I thought the fruit bombs had been flung.
“Show yourself!” My tone rang forcefully through the night, giving me an extra shot of bravery.
With a determined step, I approached one of the large, shapeless lumps resting against the side of the ship. My heckler had to be hiding behind it. The dry, crackling whisper of voices grew louder and a shrill squeal broke out as the lump dissolved into a mass of smaller, mismatched forms that scattered before me like cockroaches beneath a kitchen light.
I leapt back in surprise, then recovered and sprinted after a single trailing figure. The creature appeared to have fallen on its misshapen head. It righted itself and waddled after its companions, ducking behind another crouching lump further along the deck with a terrified squeak.
I skidded to a halt beside it. Not knowing whether this lump would also dissolve into a jumble of shadow creatures, I reached out to prod it with the tip of my sneaker. It gave slightly against the pressure, but remained stationary and whole. I squinted into the gloom, leaning down in an attempt to see where the little devil had disappeared to.
I realized that it had grown eerily quiet, as if the whisperers held their collective breath in anticipation. I stared harder into the darkness, willing my eyes to discern the shapes hidden within it. A minute shift of movement jerked my gaze to the lump beside me.
A malevolent eye looked back at me, mere inches from my own, wide and unblinking like a mouth frozen in a silent scream. It studied me from between long, bony fingers ending in cruelly sharp nails. I ceased all movement, including breath.
A second skeletal hand was folded over the first, the clutching fingers clamped together to obscure its other eye, like the legs of some monstrously long-limbed spider wrapped around its prey. Now why did I have to go and think that? Goddess, I hated spiders.
But even worse was the thought of it spreading those claw-tipped appendages and both of those soulless eyes staring back at me. The idea made my heart race so fast that my chest hurt. I was literally paralyzed by fear, afraid to blink or breathe beneath the gaze of the nightmare beside me.
I remained motionless for long moments, praying it would do the same. Rigid muscles quivered and cramped from being held tight and immobile. My lungs burned and my eyes watered, but the terror was so unspeakable that I couldn’t move. Dark spots swam across my vision and a warning echoed through my oxygen-starved brain, demanding I either breathe or lose consciousness.
Malicious knowledge glared back at me, and I was filled with a horrible comprehension. The nightmare knew its own power. It knew that as long as it fixed me with its stare, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe - not even to save my own life.
Some fading part of me cried out in denial, shrieking a demand that I fight back. But its struggles receded into the distance, eclipsed by an overwhelming relief that within mere moments, I would feel neither fear nor pain.
As blackness claimed me, hissing whispers fractured the silence once more. They sounded excited, almost frenzied, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“That’s enough.” A soft voice pierced the din, like sharpened steel sheathed in black velvet.
The whispers ceased and I collapsed to the floor, squeezing my eyes shut and gasping for air as the leaden weight on my lungs dissipated.
“It would not do to exhaust our guest’s potential for amusement so quickly. You must curb your eagerness, my pet.” It was a woman’s voice, cold as winter snow, yet filled with an unmistakable fondness.
As soon as I was able to move, I scrambled away from the nightmare creature, crawling to a stop mid-deck when I glanced back and saw that it wasn’t following me. It had returned to a lifeless, non-descript lump resting against the side of the ship.
I noticed that the night had grown lighter and looked down to find myself bathed in a frosty glow, as if from an errant sliver of moon. Twisting around, I discovered that I had halted at the bare feet of a woman draped in a clinging, sleeveless gown of translucent lavender.
Her lithe naked body was visible beneath, her skin like blue-veined marble, grey and bloodless, yet beautiful to behold. Raven hair spilled long and thick down her graceful form, twining around to caress her limbs on its journey toward her ankles.
A sickle moon gleamed upon her brow, the blades of its arms turned upward in sharp peaks. She was both lovely and terrible, with eyes like death, of lightest lavender tinged with poisonous red.
Hard lips curved in a merciless smile. “And who might you be, my dear? It has been longer than your paltry lifetime since a human has willingly joined us on the Hell Ride. I see that you have already acquainted yourself with Gochi, our resident bug. I would advise that you not threaten the imps again, or the next time I may not be able to contain his enthusiasm. And his games are so much deadlier than theirs.”
She laughed, an icy chime that sliced through the air to be accompanied by a host of answering hoots, chortles and snickers.
“Yeah, I much preferred being pelted with rotten fruit,” I muttered, peering warily around the now illumined deck.
The whispering horde had revealed itself - and they were a bizarre and motley collection. As if in answer to my comment, a decomposing grapefruit splattered onto the wood beside me, liquefied pulp splashing onto my arm.
My gaze darted toward the perpetrator as harsh catcalls and giggles rang out again. A small ugly creature, not much bigger than the fruit it had just pitched at me, sat perched on the edge of a large basket of fresh produce. Its beak hooked sharply and mean little eyes burned like chips of coal beneath its scowling brow.
As I watched, it leapt nimbly into the basket to land beside a ripe orange. Grasping the fruit in both tiny hands, it leaned forward to take a bite. As soon as its beak pierced the rind, the orange began to rot before my eyes. A brown spot appeared at the point of entry and spread outward until its firm ripeness was lost to soft decay.
The creature spun the fruit between its paws, studying it, then gave a sour grunt and lobbed it over the side of the ship before turning its attention to a new piece.
My eyes roamed the deck to take in the creature’s companions. They surrounded me, piled along the rails of the ship, staggered upon the stairs leading up to the mast and bow, and even swinging from the mast