By Nathan Sturgis (Ship/Desperate/5:37 A.M.)
5:02 A.M.
The dim fluorescent strip-light hovering over her bed lit the ICU ward. The light almost reached the man in the corner chair, slouched forward, looking at the floor. After almost seven days, Ian Griffith doubted his daughter would survive the viral meningitis destroying her body.
He looked out the window. A floodlight illuminated the nearby bay and dock. People often traveled by boat to the hospital since few roads existed between the islands in the Keys. Ian had anchored his own there when he first heard Chelsea was in the ER with a high fever. He refused to leave her side.
5:13 A.M.
Suddenly, he saw a dreadfully familiar boat come into the marina. He began hyperventilating. He got up and ran out of the room to the stairwell, careening down it like a man possessed.
Hehad returned, but Ian would not let him take her away. Not this time.
Ian slammed against the push bar on the exit door and continued sprinting down the flight of stairs to the marina. He found a tall hooded figure kneeling, tying his boat to the dock.
“Stop!”
The figure never paused. “Do you know to whom you are speaking, Ian Griffith?”
“Yes, I do, Death. Just like I know that is the LlongMarwolaeth, like my grandmother described. Like I remember.”
“Ah yes, ‘the Death Ship.’” He stood. “You should know then not to trifle with me.”
“You took my brother and my wife. Please. Don’t take my daughter.”
“It’s her time. Once I set out, I never return without a soul.”
“I’m begging you, just this once—!”
“No.” He brushed past Ian and continued toward the stairs.
Ian trembled as cold air rushed by in Death’s wake. His Welsh grandmother’s stories were true. The figure before him confirmed them, which meant he had a chance. A small one, but still a chance.
“Wait!”
“You cannot stop me, little Ian.” Death replied.
“I challenge you to Brwydr Tennyn!”
Death paused and chuckled. “Niamh taught you well.” He turned to look at Ian. “I can hardly refuse a Battle of Wits.”
“I know. If I win, my daughter lives. Her fever breaks and she becomes well. If I lose, then I must watch her die. Do you accept the terms?”
“You should remember I will not leave here without a soul. I cannot return empty-handed.”
Ian took a deep breath. “You can have my soul instead of hers if I win.”
Noxious silence reigned while Ian waited for Death’s reply.
“I accept the terms.” Death walked back down to the dock. “Answer my three riddles correctly and your daughter will live.”
Ian glanced at his watch.
5:17 A.M.
The first riddle began.
“In the dark I abide,
Once a mariner’s guide,
But in sunlight I hide.
“In the end when I die
As an old rock I’ll lie.
Please tell me, what am I?”
“A star,” Ian said. “That was too easy.”
“Well, what would the fun have been if you failed the first riddle?” Death laughed as he commenced the second riddle.
“I’m the opposite of Christ,
And with me, no one dares tryst.
For as they seek to escape my face,
I pull the ultimate heist.
“Those both obscure and with fame
Are not exempt from my game;
That is my victory claim.
Please tell me, what is my name?”
Death crossed his arms.
Ian contemplated the riddle. What is it?! He closed his eyes to think better. He abruptly thought of a magnet on his daughter’s refrigerator. It was a quote from Jesus: “I am the way, the truth, and the—.”
Life! That’s it! Christ claimed to be life, so his opposite would be death!
“It’s you, Death.” Ian smiled.
“Don’t think you can pass the third so easily,” Death warned.
“I lie in the soul of man,
And bring out the best I can,
Though I won’t act according to plan.
“I either heal broken hearts,
Or I tear man’s heart apart.
But despair must reign when I depart.
“All people fall victim to me,
The old and young, slave and free.
Please tell me what on earth could I be?”
Ian’s mind raced.
It heals and hurts? Everyone falls victim to it?
”I’m waiting.”
Ian started pacing the dock. A woman, a girl? A dog? What?! He was getting desperate. He ran his hands through his hair and silently swore to himself.
“Sorry, Ian, but that’s not the right answer.”
“I know!”
“Well, what is it?”
“I don’t know! I can’t figure it out!” Ian’s eyes began to water.
“Then you have lost.”
5:31 A.M.
Death turned toward the stairs. “I hope you have said your goodbyes to her.”
“No! Wait!”
“Do you have the answer?”
“No,” he said softly. Death kept walking. Tears began running down Ian’s face. He fell to his knees. “Chelsea! I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. His head hung in shame. Why did I come down? Why did I try? This was hopeless.
No. Not hopeless. I came because….
“Because I love my daughter.”
“What did you say?” Death hissed in Ian’s ear.
“I-I love my daughter.”
Death sighed. “If that’s all….” He turned back to the stairs.
Hang on. What breaks men’s hearts and heals them? Why should I know the answer? Because I love my daughter. Because I love….
“Death! It’s love!”
He whirled around to face Ian, his cloak trailing behind. “What?”
“The answer is love!”
5:35 A.M.
“NOOO!” Death screamed in rage, terrifying Ian. He panted for a few seconds. “You win,” he said quietly. He stood and approached Ian.
“As I said, I hope you said your goodbyes to her.”
Ian bowed his head. “No, I didn’t.” He looked up to the hospital window.
Goodbye, Chelsea. Never forget how much I love you.
Death reached his hand toward Ian.
5:37 A.M.
Chelsea’s fever broke.
Ian collapsed. The doctors later said he suffered a massive heart attack. He felt no pain. Death was satisfied.
5:02 A.M.
The dim fluorescent strip-light hovering over her bed lit the ICU ward. The light almost reached the man in the corner chair, slouched forward, looking at the floor. After almost seven days, Ian Griffith doubted his daughter would survive the viral meningitis destroying her body.
He looked out the window. A floodlight illuminated the nearby bay and dock. People often traveled by boat to the hospital since few roads existed between the islands in the Keys. Ian had anchored his own there when he first heard Chelsea was in the ER with a high fever. He refused to leave her side.
5:13 A.M.
Suddenly, he saw a dreadfully familiar boat come into the marina. He began hyperventilating. He got up and ran out of the room to the stairwell, careening down it like a man possessed.
Hehad returned, but Ian would not let him take her away. Not this time.
Ian slammed against the push bar on the exit door and continued sprinting down the flight of stairs to the marina. He found a tall hooded figure kneeling, tying his boat to the dock.
“Stop!”
The figure never paused. “Do you know to whom you are speaking, Ian Griffith?”
“Yes, I do, Death. Just like I know that is the LlongMarwolaeth, like my grandmother described. Like I remember.”
“Ah yes, ‘the Death Ship.’” He stood. “You should know then not to trifle with me.”
“You took my brother and my wife. Please. Don’t take my daughter.”
“It’s her time. Once I set out, I never return without a soul.”
“I’m begging you, just this once—!”
“No.” He brushed past Ian and continued toward the stairs.
Ian trembled as cold air rushed by in Death’s wake. His Welsh grandmother’s stories were true. The figure before him confirmed them, which meant he had a chance. A small one, but still a chance.
“Wait!”
“You cannot stop me, little Ian.” Death replied.
“I challenge you to Brwydr Tennyn!”
Death paused and chuckled. “Niamh taught you well.” He turned to look at Ian. “I can hardly refuse a Battle of Wits.”
“I know. If I win, my daughter lives. Her fever breaks and she becomes well. If I lose, then I must watch her die. Do you accept the terms?”
“You should remember I will not leave here without a soul. I cannot return empty-handed.”
Ian took a deep breath. “You can have my soul instead of hers if I win.”
Noxious silence reigned while Ian waited for Death’s reply.
“I accept the terms.” Death walked back down to the dock. “Answer my three riddles correctly and your daughter will live.”
Ian glanced at his watch.
5:17 A.M.
The first riddle began.
“In the dark I abide,
Once a mariner’s guide,
But in sunlight I hide.
“In the end when I die
As an old rock I’ll lie.
Please tell me, what am I?”
“A star,” Ian said. “That was too easy.”
“Well, what would the fun have been if you failed the first riddle?” Death laughed as he commenced the second riddle.
“I’m the opposite of Christ,
And with me, no one dares tryst.
For as they seek to escape my face,
I pull the ultimate heist.
“Those both obscure and with fame
Are not exempt from my game;
That is my victory claim.
Please tell me, what is my name?”
Death crossed his arms.
Ian contemplated the riddle. What is it?! He closed his eyes to think better. He abruptly thought of a magnet on his daughter’s refrigerator. It was a quote from Jesus: “I am the way, the truth, and the—.”
Life! That’s it! Christ claimed to be life, so his opposite would be death!
“It’s you, Death.” Ian smiled.
“Don’t think you can pass the third so easily,” Death warned.
“I lie in the soul of man,
And bring out the best I can,
Though I won’t act according to plan.
“I either heal broken hearts,
Or I tear man’s heart apart.
But despair must reign when I depart.
“All people fall victim to me,
The old and young, slave and free.
Please tell me what on earth could I be?”
Ian’s mind raced.
It heals and hurts? Everyone falls victim to it?
”I’m waiting.”
Ian started pacing the dock. A woman, a girl? A dog? What?! He was getting desperate. He ran his hands through his hair and silently swore to himself.
“Sorry, Ian, but that’s not the right answer.”
“I know!”
“Well, what is it?”
“I don’t know! I can’t figure it out!” Ian’s eyes began to water.
“Then you have lost.”
5:31 A.M.
Death turned toward the stairs. “I hope you have said your goodbyes to her.”
“No! Wait!”
“Do you have the answer?”
“No,” he said softly. Death kept walking. Tears began running down Ian’s face. He fell to his knees. “Chelsea! I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. His head hung in shame. Why did I come down? Why did I try? This was hopeless.
No. Not hopeless. I came because….
“Because I love my daughter.”
“What did you say?” Death hissed in Ian’s ear.
“I-I love my daughter.”
Death sighed. “If that’s all….” He turned back to the stairs.
Hang on. What breaks men’s hearts and heals them? Why should I know the answer? Because I love my daughter. Because I love….
“Death! It’s love!”
He whirled around to face Ian, his cloak trailing behind. “What?”
“The answer is love!”
5:35 A.M.
“NOOO!” Death screamed in rage, terrifying Ian. He panted for a few seconds. “You win,” he said quietly. He stood and approached Ian.
“As I said, I hope you said your goodbyes to her.”
Ian bowed his head. “No, I didn’t.” He looked up to the hospital window.
Goodbye, Chelsea. Never forget how much I love you.
Death reached his hand toward Ian.
5:37 A.M.
Chelsea’s fever broke.
Ian collapsed. The doctors later said he suffered a massive heart attack. He felt no pain. Death was satisfied.