Bernhard StoEver - Medusa´s child

Bernhard StoEver

Medusa´s child

Amazing script stories

Dieses ebook wurde erstellt bei

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Titel Bernhard StoEver Medusa´s child Amazing script stories Dieses ebook wurde erstellt bei

Sharks and small fishes

O'Maley's dream

The order

Toxic fog

Butterflies are not to kiss

Even killers must die

The raid

Medusa´s Child

Children of war

The test

The secret archipelago

squalls

The burglary

Mind games

"Ali boma je"

The lost leg

Bielefeld does not exist

Torture fantasies

Reeperbahn Intermezzo

The murder in the hospital

Tiffany

Two shortest poems ever

Impressum neobooks

It happened at the time when I was still young and full of ambitious. At an age when I was overestimate my powers.

I sailed all over the world for two years with my yacht Ariadne, and there had never been any major incidents. That made me careless. I was warned expressly sailing through this part of the sea without escorts. And the fact that I was now tied up in my cabin like a pile of misery was solely due to my cockiness. Pirates raided my yacht and drunk all the whiskey which they found on board.

After some hours one of the now full drunk bandits grabbed me, stood me on my feet and opened my chains. Then he took me to the deck. I was already expected here. Nobody of the pirates wanted to miss the upcoming spectacle. Their leader looked at me appraisingly, then grinned shabbily and grabbed a bucket of bait fishes of which I always had several on board. With a dirty laugh he emptied it in the sea.

Not long and the first shark appeared. It was a bull shark, as I could easily see in size and shape. And then another came and another, until a whole swarm followed the yacht and struggled wild for the treats.

The leader, a rough fellow with deep scars in his bearded face, reached for his cutlass and said to me in a drunken voice, "I'll scrape you a bit before I throw you to your friends, then it will not take long." He laughed out loud while he approached me swaying. He bobbed the knife expectant between his fingers.

I was no superhero, and my courage was within natural limits, but giving up and whining, that was out of question for me. I looked over the railing into the sea and was full frightened for all the bull sharks appeared in such numbers. Usually they were loners, and it was rare for them to band together. Maybe I should take it as a compliment.

In a sudden inspiration, I pushed my guard away, rushed to the railing, and jumped with a huge leap between the sharks. I was lucky, tremendous lucky, because the rough skin of the sharks could have hurt me dangerously. And the only chance I had was, not a single drop of blood drew their attention. I plunged deep into the water, trying to put as much distance between me and the greedy for prey snapping sharks as possible.

When I reappeared, I heard screams on the deck. One of the pirates grabbed his weapon and aimed at me. But the waves did not make it easy for him, and when I heard the rattling of the shots, several sharks which surrounded me were hit. Immediately they fought with each other. It was a sight that has frozen my blood. A raging mess of insane monsters in a blood-red sea. I took a deep breath and dived again. The pirates had to get the impression that I would have been a victim of the sharks, too. I stayed under water until my lungs seemed to burst. Only then I emerged again and suck my lungs full of oxygen.

The yacht was already quite far away and the waves provided enough shelter to stay undetected. But where were the sharks? I didn´t want looking for them and tried to avoid any unnecessary movement. That was the only chance to escape my hopeless situation.

Bull sharks feed almost everything, and their teeth and biting behaviour are similar to those of the Great Whites. Therefore, it took no special effort for me to remain in motionlessness. Minimal movements with my hands were enough to keep me afloat.

The hours went on and the deadly reality had given way to a surreal dream that enveloped fear like a protective cloak. Meanwhile it was getting dark, the sea glittering peacefully under the glowing stars. Carefully, I freed myself from my physical numbness and began to swim. I tried to avoid any hasty movement. Like a divine ribbon the stars showed me the way, and whenever one of the big waves carried me up, I tried to find my bearings. Sometimes I thought, I could see the dark shadow of an island in the distance. I had not doubt that I would physically manage it to reach them swimming. I was still in a pretty good shape. No, that was not what had worried me. Apart from the sharks, barracudas could bring me in serious danger. Barracudas would tear terrible wounds, and even if I was not eaten by them, I would never survive the blood loss.

But those were thoughts that I immediately banished from my head. I had to concentrate with all my strength on the task ahead of me. For despite the favourable current, I would certainly need one to two days in this high waves, until the island would close me in protectively arms. And I really did not want to take away myself to that joy. To make it short, I made it, even faster than expected. Back on the mainland, my consul provided me with makeshift papers, and I started my journey back home to Europe. I have never again heard anything from the pirates and my boat.

Perhaps I should mention, after years had passed and I almost had forgotten the incident, a fortune teller in Brugges read me out off my hand and prophesied that I would be the victim of a raiding should I ever go to sea.

+

O'Maley fought his way through the feverish heat that shrouded Los Angeles like a pall since days. The sour breeze of sweat and urine, steaming from pores and clothing, gave him a sense of familiarity. He could be satisfied for today, even though two boxes of fruit, scraps of food wrapped in newspaper, and a dozen empty bottles, for which he received a few pennies on the market, were scarcely sufficient for a carefree life in wealth. His hand felt over the shabby jacket, searching for the bottle of cheap red wine a shopkeeper had presented him in a porridge of pity and contempt. Alcohol made him insensitive against all sorts of physical pain. Even his leg did not cause him any trouble, no pain, no pulling, simply nothing. He had lost it in the war. A bomb destroyed an entire village, and his leg, too.

The shopping cart, which he was single-mindedly pushing, stopped abruptly. A loose flagstone blocked the front wheels, hard and absolute like a granite wall. The apples above were flung forward and jumped on the busy street. O`Maley instinctively reacted. With a speed no one would have expected, he hobbled behind them.

The approaching pickup left him no chance. It slammed dully, his head touched the hood, and he hurled in a high arc on the road. He was already unconscious when his body hit the ground. His wrong leg was bent at a right angle. The little dark spot that spread under his head mingled with the alcohol from the broken bottle to a thin red trickle.

O'Maley's eyes widened. The glaring white that exploded in his head faded to a diffuse grey, from which blurred figures peered out ghostly. Voices pierced his consciousness in waves and disappeared again into nothingness. The floor opened, and he fell back into a deep, black hole.

Despite her youth, the female ward doctor had no lack in experience. She carefully lifted an eyelid of the patient and shook her head in surprise. "He dreams, must have a strong will. Amazing that he has held out so long. "