Ferry

I suspected I was going quite mad on the third evening after running afoul of the great rock upon which my vessel and I lay, when I saw a gargantuan tail briefly surface from the inky black water. As far as I had sailed, not once had I seen another living soul traverse these waters, let alone dwell within them. The sea was not known to be the hospitable type.

If I was indeed going round the bend, it was not due to lack of hunger; rather, it was due to the increasing uncertainty that I would not escape this rock alive. My vessel was equipped for long journeys. As such, I had sufficient rations to last me for weeks. But I wasn’t a fool - I knew they would run out eventually, and fish, besides the near-certain mirage of the tail, were not to be found in these waters.

My vessel was also the durable type. When it came into my possession, I was assured without a shadow of a doubt that it could withstand practically anything. It had survived storm after storm, and beating upon beating from waves unrelenting. And yet, here I was, trapped on a rock I did not even see while sailing through one of these storms I had assumed would be beatable. It seemed that ‘practically’ had finally caught up with me. I had not yet concocted a plan to escape this rock - the sea was too violent for swimming, nor a makeshift raft - nor had I the foggiest idea of what to do once I was off it. Nor, when I came to think of it, had I the foggiest idea of where I was coming from. Perhaps the madness had wormed its way into my brain and taken root.

As the black sun disappeared over the horizon, I could feel behind me the emergence of a startlingly scarlet sky, and within its reflection, a crimson moon. It was the only presence of brilliant colour I had seen in my travels within these waters and, despite knowing that each appearance of the moon meant one less time I would see the re-emergence of the black sun, it brought me great comfort. The water’s colour remained unchanged, a sheet of black interrupting the scarlet sky.

I travelled down to my vessel, still stuck at the edge of the rock, and retrieved a loaf of bread, which thankfully had not been damaged in the collision. I climbed back up the rock and began to slowly eat. In an attempt to make my rations last as long as possible, and therefore extend my life, I had been neglecting the tradition of lunchtime. Breakfast and dinner were essential - lunch was not.

It was out of the corner of my eye that I spied the tail once again. I quickly turned my head, trying to catch it in full view before it would disappear. To my shock, the tail remained above water. It was real. It had to be. The tail seemed to flounder for the slightest moment, then slowly submerged. I squinted. Where on earth could it have gone? Then, as if the universe was answering my question, ripples began to appear through the water. I knew in that moment that it had to be the tail; more importantly, what the tail was attached to. I skittled towards the edge of the rock. I was aware of the potential danger in doing so, but instinctive curiosity was overtaking any sense of danger.

Suddenly, a gigantic shape emerged from the water with a bellow that seemed to echo through the infinite sea. There was a bright flash emanating from it, and I briefly shielded my eyes. After a second or two, the flash subsided, and I peered at the shape. To my surprise, it was a creature of almost identifiable origin. It did not pounce towards me, nor did it swim away after I felt as though I had stared at it for too long. It simply stayed where it was.

Perhaps what was most striking at first was that, despite having the body of a gigantic fish, sitting atop its neck was the most superb horse head I had ever laid eyes on. What became even more striking to me was that, through the wine-red moonlight and laps of black sea, I could clearly see its colours shining through. Its mane was made up of scales, not hair, and shone a radiant gold. Its body, sleek from the sea, glistened in the crimson moonlight. Its colour shone through, and its skin reflected a rainbow, the colours of which seemed to constantly change with its movements. In place of hooves, there were two large, feathered, wing-shaped limbs. A hippocampus. It turned its head to peer at me, just as I was at it. I slowly cocked my head and, as if inquisitively, it repeated my exact action.

The hippocampus snorted. It was not a rude snort, more of a greeting. It slowly moved its head down, held it, then moved up. I realised with great shock that in that moment, it had bowed to me. It turned away from me, and for a moment I was under the belief that it would swim away, and I felt a deep sadness. The first creature I had seen in this sea, and it was already departing. However, to my relief, the hippocampus stayed put. It snorted once more, and all of a sudden, as if it was growing from its hide, a leader harness appeared on its body. Suddenly, I heard a deep rumble, and an abundance of bubbles began to furiously make themselves known on the surface of the sea. Slowly but surely, a grand wooden chariot - missing its wheels - emerged from the depths of the deep. It seemed to be unaffected by the water, remaining completely dry. The chariot held two clasps, upon which the hippocampus’ leather harness was tied. The hippocampus slowly swam closer to the rock, once again turned its head towards me, and jerked it upwards. I realised then that it was beckoning me to board.

I walked slowly to the very edge of the rock, hardly believing what I was doing. Right when I was about to step off the rock, I stopped. I knew how to swim, but in the three days I was stranded, I never imagined I would be doing it here. I wondered briefly if I would sink, or if I would simply bob in the water, at which point I would be able to make my way to the chariot. The only way to find out was to simply try. I took a step forward, and was shocked to discover that I did not sink down. My foot simply rested on the surface of the water. I scoffed in amazement and continued to walk on the water.

I had never before boarded a chariot before, but to my surprise, once I was on board, I found myself instinctively tying the harness’s ropes around my hands, ensuring I had a firm grip. I softly moved the reins up and down. The hippocampus suddenly took off, taking the chariot and myself along with it. I yelped in shock, and looked back. It did not take long for both the rock and my vessel to completely disappear, melting into the skyline. I wondered if anybody would discover it, or even know that it was there.

The hippocampus moved at an immeasurable speed, but I did not find myself affected. I felt the wind blow against my face, and to my surprise, it was soft like a light breeze. The chariot made a quiet sloshing sound as it flew across the water’s surface.

As time passed, having travelled so far I had nearly begun to drift off to sleep, I heard multiple splashing sounds. Each sounded different: some louder and some softer, some more aggressive and some calmer. I darted my head back and forth to locate the source of the sound. And as I looked around, I saw others. Other people, in identical chariots, being pulled by identical, multicoloured hippocampi.

I could not explain it, but at that moment, I had never felt so calm.

Written by Alex Mouhtouris

Alex Mouhtouris is an emerging creative from Australia. While primarily working in the theatre world, they have had a lifelong passion for reading and writing.