Thursday, May 19, 2016
Blog Background Flash Fiction, Story 3 - The Wrong Ship
A window she did not recognize.
Where the hell was she? This was not her room. She glanced around at the dark wood antique furniture. It was the most beautifully ornate stuff she had ever seen, but again not hers. She climbed out of the railed wooden cot. Her long bridesmaid dress weighing her down a bit. Great. She had slept in her expensive silk gown. That was ruined forever, not that she would ever have cause to wear it again. She noticed a pitcher and bowl on a table and walked over to pour some water out and splash her face. As she patted her cheeks she thought it strange that there was a pitcher and bowl rather than a sink. Fortunately she knew what it was from all the historical romance books she read. On another table were some crystal decanters. She hoped one of them was just water. She pulled out the stopper on a bottle of clear liquid and sniffed. Thank goodness. She found a pewter mug and filled it, taking small sips as she tried to get her bearings.
Had she gone home with one of the groomsmen? Well, to his stateroom or whatever? It was obvious she was on a boat. And the furnishings in the room were all secured so they wouldn't fall over or slide off surfaces. That made sense since the wedding had been at the marina. This just didn't look like any yacht she'd ever seen. It reminded her of that old pirate-looking ship docked in San Diego's harbor. Star of India? Whatever. She needed to get out of here. How embarrassing would it be if her date walked in and she couldn't remember his name?
She got her sea legs and stepped into the corridor. The walls were dark wood here too. Mr. no-name date sure had done a spectacular job on this. It looked almost new. She ran her fingers along the smooth wall as she walked. Upon hearing voices she made her way up some steps into a bright sunny day. She closed her eyes and smiled as the beams caressed her face. She didn't have a hangover after all. She felt great.
She took a deep breath of fresh clean air and opened her eyes to see a bunch of strange men staring at her. They must be doing some sort of historical reenactment. Their clothing was definitely not of this time. Oh, crap! What if they were filming a movie and she had just ruined the shot? She smiled sheepishly. She was the only woman here, obviously having just come from someone's room.
"Hey," she said with a little wave, trying to act casual. "I'll just be going now." They all gave her an odd look. She had to get out of here. She turned to look for the exit to the dock and froze. She felt the blood drain from her face. There was no exit. She turned and glanced around in every direction, thinking she must be seeing things. There was nothing for miles but water.
"And how is milady this morning?" A deep voice with a sexy Scottish lilt rolled over her. She shook her head and steeled herself to demand answers. She couldn't let a sexy voice get to her. She turned to face her host and was struck dumb by the bluest eyes she had ever seen. The eyes glinted with humor along with a dimple and full smiling lips. She exhaled in a gasp ending in a whimper. "Cat got yer tongue, luv?"
"I'm sorry. I'm just really confused. I don't know how I got here or where here is. Did I sign up for some historical cruise?" Or had she gone home with this gorgeous creature? No. She would've remembered. "Who are you?"
"I could ask the same of you."
"Who are you and how did you get on my ship?"