"Whoa," Warren breathed beside Blue.
"Whoa indeed," Miracle muttered, staring at the abandoned ship out into the distance. His eyes were concerned when they fell on Blue, who, unable to settle on which reaction was more fitting to the situation, just stood numbly by the railing.
Sherry, however, just looked bored. "Why did you call us? I almost had a heart-attack with the way you screamed. So, there's a ship here. What's the big deal--?"
"It's Navy vessel," Miracle said.
Sherry raised an eyebrow. "Um, okay? So...?"
"My dad was a Navy officer. He died in a sea storm," Blue finally said, shutting up Sherry.
Miracle sighed, tugging on his hair that was already messy because of the ferocious winds, before turning to face Blue. "Blue, my Blue, I can understand you're shocked. Perhaps, a little upset. But you can't really think that's your father's ship, right? That's a slim chance."
"But not none--" Warren started but fell silent, for the second time that day, when he saw Miracle's glare.
"But what if it's his?" Blue whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse. The rational part of her knew she wasn't being reasonable. Miracle was right. There was no proof that this was her father's ship. Besides, it's been three years since he disappeared from her life. And Blue clearly remembered being told that his ship had drowned. Completely submerged in a storm. It would be in the bottom of the sea bed, by now.
Blue took a shaky but deep breath and started to nod, having convinced herself that this was just a coincidence. Moreover, dark clouds were starting to roll in, the warmth of the sun fading away. Blue flinched when the loud crackle of thunder cleaved through the bosom of the clouds, startling her.
As the world brightened for a split second in the harsh illumination of the lightning, a memory resurfaced in Blue.
Three years ago, on a day quite similar to this, a car had rolled inside the driveway of the Jennings' household, along with a ferocious storm, its tires squelching in the mud and puddles.
As the rain started pouring angrily, two men stepped out, their bright white uniforms hidden beneath dark trench coats. The taller of the two pulled out a black umbrella and under its protection, the mysterious duo rushed towards the front door.
Nine-year-old Blue looked up from her mess of drawings and crayons towards her Ma when the doorbell rang loudly. Rita Jennings, younger and more carefree, paused from hurrying around the kitchen. She had been flurrying around all day, restless. Blue knew her Ma was excited because, tonight, Papa was finally supposed to return home after a long, long time.
"Oh! It must be Markus!" her Ma said, quickly pulling off her apron and straightening her hair. She hurried towards the front door, dragging Blue with her.
Blue, herself, tried to feign excitement for her Ma's sake. But truth be told, she was less than bothered about the return of a man who she didn't even know properly. But as her Ma slowly turned the knob of the door, Blue was far from being thrilled or even bored. It was that feeling – that wriggly feeling twisting her stomach that told her something wasn't right.
And, indeed, it wasn't.
It wasn't Markus standing in the doorway. It was two strangers.
Her Ma looked alarmed. "Oh, um, h-how may I help you, sir?" her Ma asked, stuttering slightly.
"Mrs Jennings," the taller one said, respectfully. "It is a pleasure to meet you. We come bearing news...about your husband."
Her Ma's face paled. "Is he okay?"
"Perhaps we can talk inside?" the shorter one offered.
Blue had the irrational urge to scream, "No! Go away!" But she kept quiet as her Ma stepped aside to let them in.
They both came in and started to take off their coats to hang it on the pegs. But before her Ma could close the door, Blue's eyes caught the flash of thunder tear through the night sky – almost like a warning signal.
"Blue, go to your room," her Ma said. Blue started to protest but her Ma gave her a look that left no room for argument.
It was no secret that Blue was a nosy kid. So, of course, she didn't leave. As the strangers and her Ma piled inside the parlour, wrapped up in the warmth of the hearth, Blue crouched near the door, curious and strangely anxious.
And, so, Blue sat silently and heard as the men relayed the information about the storm near the Arabian Sea and how her Papa's ship got caught onto it. It would have been impossible for anyone to survive it.
Her Ma's sobs racked through the air, as the men continued relentlessly, "We sent out scouts not long after that. They came back empty-handed, I'm afraid. There was no sign of a ship. The storm had ravaged it beyond our help. We suspect it now lies in the ocean bed."
"B-But what about...?" her Ma trailed off, hiccoughing. "What about his...body?"
The two men exchanged a quick look before the taller one said, "No body was found, Mrs Jennings. I'm sorry."
Blue curled beside the doorway, her body trembling. She tuned out the rest of their words as they thanked her Ma and told her that Markus had been a great man and that they shall forever mourn his untimely death. Blue, although unsure of her feelings towards her absentee father, was oddly angry. As if there's ever a timely death.
She never even got to know him. Did he ever think of her? What must he have felt like when he was about to die? Was he scared? Was he in heaven now?
Blue shivered even at the prospect of death. Unfortunately, immersed in her gloomy thoughts, she didn't hear the footsteps approaching the door's threshold.
"Blue!" her Ma yelled, making her shoot up to her feet. But, apparently, Mrs Jennings was too emotionally exhausted to be angry. So, she instead drew her daughter into an embrace, crying silently. Blue wrapped her little hands around her Ma, as well.
"We must leave, Mrs Jennings. We hope to see you and your daughter in his funeral," the shorter one said. Sniffing, her Ma nodded, parting from Blue. His beady eyes, for a second, fleeted towards Blue. Blue stared back at him, almost challengingly. There was an odd sort of glint in his eyes as he reached down and patted Blue's head.
Blue angrily swatted him away, making him chuckle.
At that moment, as he drew back his hand, Blue's eyes fell on his right arm. He was wearing a white shirt which was a little wet with the raindrops that had managed to seep through the material of his coat. The sleeves of his shirt were lightly plastered with his forearm. Suddenly, Blue noticed something drawn in the skin of his arm. Curious, she squinted to see what it was more clearly. But the man slyly turned away his arm from her line of vision.
Blue was suspicious. But a child's mind is a fickle one. As the men drove away, she forgot about it as quickly as she had caught on to it.
Blue hadn't thought about that particular day for years. Until, now. And she was surprised that she still remembered that minute detail.
But it was undeniable. She remembered now what she had seen.
A tattoo. Exactly like the ones on the arms of the men who had attacked them.
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Miracle
Fantasy[COMPLETE] Twelve-year-old Blue was a dreamer and a believer of all things impossible. But even her all-encompassing imagination could never have thought that miracles were not just something that happened. No, how was she to know that Miracle was a...
