THE PRIEST OF SANTA MARIA - ( CHAPTER 47 ) - { PT. 3 }


 { PT.  3 } - CAPTAIN COSTANTINO AWOKE WITH 

a start. There was something bothering him on this trip--a foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach. For days before the voyage, he had recurring nightmares of a raging fire on his ship, and each dream became more vivid. Now he was seeing the dead, mutilated bodies of his crewmen strewn around the vessel. Arms separated from legs, entrails lining the corridors and pieces of bloodied flesh papering the walls. He stood by the sink, splashed cold water on his face and stared into the mirror as he wiped his skin dry. The icy dread in his eyes perturbed him. He dressed and made his way to the bridge for a cup of coffee and a chat with his second mate. The ship's creaks and rumbles sounded like a hungry old whale with arthritic joints. The lights above him flickered, transforming the corridor into a dark, dank cavern. There was fear in the air. It smelled metallic. He reached the metal door and noticed that it was slightly ajar. He slid it open and a set of black pupils looked up at him through murderous eyes. A bloody blade in hand and standing legs straddled over the second mate whose neck was slit open spurting sanguine liquid like fountain water. The second mate turned his glassy eyes on Christiano and reached out his hand in pleading. His last desperate gaze suspended on his Captain. The reality of Costantino's nightmarish dreams spread across his face like the plague. With his eyes fixed on Kristoff, he stole a sideways glance to his left where the general alarm activation switch felt a million miles away. Its blood red hue demanded his attention. Kristoff followed his trail and smiled with devilish glee. He tossed his serrated blade from hand to hand and bit his bottom lip. Let's see if you can reach that switch before I gut you like a fish.

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