10
“When will this town get it together?” Walter Mitty murmured to himself as he flipped through the local newspaper.
Staring at the headline of the next page, Walter read aloud, “Waterburg Resident Murdered.” The house was quiet. “Do you hear that dear?” he called to Mrs.Mitty.
“Yes dear, I hear you,” she answered back from the next room over. “But it’s getting late, and you shouldn’t read such worrying things before bed.”
Walter sighed, and placed the newspaper down on the table. He shuffled across the hardwood flooring and made his way down the hallway. “Stop your slouching Walter,” Mrs.Mitty said harshly while exiting the laundry room, “It’s no wonder your back is going.”
Walter brushed past his wife. “Haven’t you forgotten something Walter,” Mrs.Mitty questioned, knowing the answer herself.
“Oh, what is it now?” he grumbled.
“Did you lock your car?” she asked mockingly, while dangling the keys in front of him.
“I suppose not,” said Walter. He took the keys and headed for the door.
“Don’t forget a jacket, it’s rather cold outside.”
“It’ll be no more than a minute dear,” he responded.
Walter opened the door with the keys clenched in the palm of his hand. A gust of wind blew and tears formed in his eyes. He squinted in an attempt to take in the dim yellow haze that radiated from the familiar suburban street lights.
…
Howling winds whirled past Walter’s ears. While the boards of the crow’s nest creaked and the plateaued pole wavered, a great mass, scarcely visible through the dense air, slowly revealed itself from the grasp of twilight. Walter covered his eyes from the wind with his hand, and peeking through his fingers, the figure came into sight. It was an iceberg.
He tensed up, but Walter Mitty knew that the course of the ship must be changed, and soon. He took a deep breath and sprung into action, scampering to the steps of the ladder.
“Mayday!” He hollered to the sailors that stood below. “Iceberg ahead! Tell the captain!” Walter shouted with one hand cupping his mouth, but his warnings were lost in the wind’s shrieks. He hurriedly climbed down the second half of towering ropes.
As Walter’s feet thumped the ground, there was no time to waste, the mission lay in his hands. To the quarterdeck he ran, competing in speed with the wind, weaving his way through the unaware sailors. Up the first set of stairs he bound his way up. Two, four, six… The second set was just ahead. Dunk, dunk, dunk… his boots clobbered the wood below him.
His crew members glanced over but by the time they turned around, Walter was already charging around the corners of the quarterdeck and hurrying to Captain Gerold’s door. As he grabbed the metal handle and twisted it, he was stunned to see what was on the other side. Captain Gerold lay motionless and sprawled across the floor, as blood pooled around his neck. The desk chair creaked and slowed to a halt.
“Oh hell.” Walter exhaled as he hurriedly walked over to the captain and knelt down. The only sounds that could be heard in the dark and dreary room were raspy breaths in and out. Walter Mitty looked at his feet and something glimmered back at him. It was silver, but tinted with the moon’s pale light. As he further examined the object, it was a weapon of some sort. A dagger.
With one swift motion, he placed his hand on the captain’s heart… pocketa-pocketa-pocketa,pocketa, pocketa… The captain’s eyes fluttered for one last time and he drew in his last breath. Silence. Silence, that is, until a jacket rustled and a figure dashed out from the void-stricken corners of the quarterdeck room and ran out into the cargo hold. Walter’s head jerked up. “Who’s there,” he said, his voice shaking, while stumbling onto his feet, “and what have you done to the captain?” No one answered. Walter knew the task at hand, and something much worse would happen if he did not do the mission he came here to complete. With his foggy mind, he glanced around the room, in search of something, anything.
A broom poked out from the shadows. Walter grabbed it and snapped it effortlessly in half on his knee, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt. The ship was going full speed into the icebergs direction just as it was a minute ago. He gripped the wheel with his left hand and held the broom in his other. The wheel made a clicking sound as it was forced to the right. Walter then shoved the broken broom into position. It was now lodged under the wheel, rendering it immovable.
Without any time to waste, Walter bolted out of the room into the damp cargo hold’s entrance. The hold had a couple leaks in it, which led water to slip in and pool. He shuffled through the dusty gear of the other crew members, with almost no sight of what was ahead of him. There were life jackets, oxygen tanks, fishing polls, boxes, and buoys. Walter made quite the clamor, and stood for a few seconds to catch his breath.
With all the noise that was being made as he shoved his way through, he pondered the strange fact that there was no more commotion other than his. The cargo hold isn’t some small little storage room, no, it was much larger than that, so whoever was in the room when the captain was murdered was nearby. Walter paused and knelt down to get a sense of where the figure could be, it was as if all the equipment in the hold was replaced with anticipation, and just one wave hitting the side of the ship would make it burst. After about twenty seconds or so, Walter was giving up on his waiting game, and the killer still remained loose. As he went to stand up, he heard an ever so faint echo of his pants rustling. Apprehensive of whether or not that someone was still with him, he continued on with standing up. Once again, another mimic of the sounds. Walter Mitty drew his sword cautiously and swallowed the lump in his throat.
There had to be a light somewhere. There had to have been a light somewhere on the ceiling. Walter groped his hands around above his head, a chain made a tink sound right above him.
“There you are.” Walter grunted as he reached for the base of the chain. Click, the cargo hold was filled with a faint light, and Walter Mitty found himself no farther than ten feet from the man in the quarterdeck. Walter stayed put, as if nails had been plunged through his feet and were holding him to the floor of the cargo hold. “You, show yourself now!” he shouted, with his sword drawn. There was no time to react, the man was off and running.
Disregarding everything in their path, both of the men were bounding over barrels and vests. The man was fast, but Walter Mitty was faster. Walter held up his sword as they both neared the exit of the cargo hold, and slashed it across the man’s back. Walter heard a grunt as the man hurdled up the stairs. A wave of bravery surged into Walter’s mind. The man took a straight path out of the cargo hold’s exit, but Walter had other plans. “Everybody,” Walter shouted to the crewmates, “catch him!”
No one batted an eye, but instead just parted a path through the crowd to avoid being trampled. “Are you all just useless?” He groaned through gritted teeth. Walter took a sharp turn to his left and faced another set of stairs. Two, four, six… He was like a freight train, stopping for nothing, and making his way to the back of the ship.
Mitty climbed the short ladder to get to the top, and searched around for what he was looking for. The ropes dangling from the mizzen tower of the ship swayed back and forth in the wind. Walter Mitty dug his feet into the mildewy floorboards and clenched his fists. With all of his might, Mitty ran across the boards and sailed through the air. Once close enough, he unclenched his fists and outstretched his arms, wincing at the thought of failure.
“Haha,” he laughed to himself, “and where might you be off to,” he said while soaring straight towards the man on the rough ropes, just as the ship had once sailed to the iceberg. Luckily enough, it appeared that the stuck broom remained in its position, since the boat had turned just enough to be on track to just miss the iceberg. The man neared the bow of the ship, but so did Mitty. With great determination, Walter maneuvered himself on the ropes to be lined up with his target. The man spun around, but it was too late.
Walter Mitty drove both of his feet into the man’s abdomen, sending him flying off the edge of the ship. As the man plummeted down into the nearly frozen waters, Mitty swung back to the base of the ship after hanging above the ship’s bow.
The man screamed, “What have you done!” But his cries were muffled by the ship’s engine.
Walter landed back down onto the wood. Breathing heavily, he turned around to face the congregation of people gathering around to see what happened. Some leaned over the edge of the ship and watched as the boat progressed past the towering iceberg, and some leaned over the balcony of the quarterdeck, unknowing of what tragedies lay beneath them.
Cheers and applause erupted from the admiring sailors, however, Walter Mitty’s eyes were caught by one in particular. A beautiful brunette lady, leaning on the balcony’s dark wood. She was positioned in the direction of the moon’s dull and pale lighting. The clouds had now parted, and the hostile winds had become no more than a gentle sea breeze. The puffs of air softly blowing her hair past her shoulders. The moon’s light accentuated her silhouette and cast a faint shadow on the pole behind her. Their eyes met, and Walter was filled with admiration.
The girl turned around and disappeared into the darkness, but only to be seen a moment later dashing down the first set of steps, then the second, and before Walter knew it, she was grabbing his hand and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you, Walter.” She said softly, while staring into his eyes. “I’m here.” He answered back.
…
“Walter,” Mrs.Mitty called to him, “who are you talking to?” He was standing a couple feet away from his car, “”You scare me sometimes, you know.” She pulled on the car door, and it opened, “Oh my, and you didn’t even lock the car. You’ve been out here for five minutes!” She criticized him.
Staring at the headline of the next page, Walter read aloud, “Waterburg Resident Murdered.” The house was quiet. “Do you hear that dear?” he called to Mrs.Mitty.
“Yes dear, I hear you,” she answered back from the next room over. “But it’s getting late, and you shouldn’t read such worrying things before bed.”
Walter sighed, and placed the newspaper down on the table. He shuffled across the hardwood flooring and made his way down the hallway. “Stop your slouching Walter,” Mrs.Mitty said harshly while exiting the laundry room, “It’s no wonder your back is going.”
Walter brushed past his wife. “Haven’t you forgotten something Walter,” Mrs.Mitty questioned, knowing the answer herself.
“Oh, what is it now?” he grumbled.
“Did you lock your car?” she asked mockingly, while dangling the keys in front of him.
“I suppose not,” said Walter. He took the keys and headed for the door.
“Don’t forget a jacket, it’s rather cold outside.”
“It’ll be no more than a minute dear,” he responded.
Walter opened the door with the keys clenched in the palm of his hand. A gust of wind blew and tears formed in his eyes. He squinted in an attempt to take in the dim yellow haze that radiated from the familiar suburban street lights.
…
Howling winds whirled past Walter’s ears. While the boards of the crow’s nest creaked and the plateaued pole wavered, a great mass, scarcely visible through the dense air, slowly revealed itself from the grasp of twilight. Walter covered his eyes from the wind with his hand, and peeking through his fingers, the figure came into sight. It was an iceberg.
He tensed up, but Walter Mitty knew that the course of the ship must be changed, and soon. He took a deep breath and sprung into action, scampering to the steps of the ladder.
“Mayday!” He hollered to the sailors that stood below. “Iceberg ahead! Tell the captain!” Walter shouted with one hand cupping his mouth, but his warnings were lost in the wind’s shrieks. He hurriedly climbed down the second half of towering ropes.
As Walter’s feet thumped the ground, there was no time to waste, the mission lay in his hands. To the quarterdeck he ran, competing in speed with the wind, weaving his way through the unaware sailors. Up the first set of stairs he bound his way up. Two, four, six… The second set was just ahead. Dunk, dunk, dunk… his boots clobbered the wood below him.
His crew members glanced over but by the time they turned around, Walter was already charging around the corners of the quarterdeck and hurrying to Captain Gerold’s door. As he grabbed the metal handle and twisted it, he was stunned to see what was on the other side. Captain Gerold lay motionless and sprawled across the floor, as blood pooled around his neck. The desk chair creaked and slowed to a halt.
“Oh hell.” Walter exhaled as he hurriedly walked over to the captain and knelt down. The only sounds that could be heard in the dark and dreary room were raspy breaths in and out. Walter Mitty looked at his feet and something glimmered back at him. It was silver, but tinted with the moon’s pale light. As he further examined the object, it was a weapon of some sort. A dagger.
With one swift motion, he placed his hand on the captain’s heart… pocketa-pocketa-pocketa,pocketa, pocketa… The captain’s eyes fluttered for one last time and he drew in his last breath. Silence. Silence, that is, until a jacket rustled and a figure dashed out from the void-stricken corners of the quarterdeck room and ran out into the cargo hold. Walter’s head jerked up. “Who’s there,” he said, his voice shaking, while stumbling onto his feet, “and what have you done to the captain?” No one answered. Walter knew the task at hand, and something much worse would happen if he did not do the mission he came here to complete. With his foggy mind, he glanced around the room, in search of something, anything.
A broom poked out from the shadows. Walter grabbed it and snapped it effortlessly in half on his knee, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt. The ship was going full speed into the icebergs direction just as it was a minute ago. He gripped the wheel with his left hand and held the broom in his other. The wheel made a clicking sound as it was forced to the right. Walter then shoved the broken broom into position. It was now lodged under the wheel, rendering it immovable.
Without any time to waste, Walter bolted out of the room into the damp cargo hold’s entrance. The hold had a couple leaks in it, which led water to slip in and pool. He shuffled through the dusty gear of the other crew members, with almost no sight of what was ahead of him. There were life jackets, oxygen tanks, fishing polls, boxes, and buoys. Walter made quite the clamor, and stood for a few seconds to catch his breath.
With all the noise that was being made as he shoved his way through, he pondered the strange fact that there was no more commotion other than his. The cargo hold isn’t some small little storage room, no, it was much larger than that, so whoever was in the room when the captain was murdered was nearby. Walter paused and knelt down to get a sense of where the figure could be, it was as if all the equipment in the hold was replaced with anticipation, and just one wave hitting the side of the ship would make it burst. After about twenty seconds or so, Walter was giving up on his waiting game, and the killer still remained loose. As he went to stand up, he heard an ever so faint echo of his pants rustling. Apprehensive of whether or not that someone was still with him, he continued on with standing up. Once again, another mimic of the sounds. Walter Mitty drew his sword cautiously and swallowed the lump in his throat.
There had to be a light somewhere. There had to have been a light somewhere on the ceiling. Walter groped his hands around above his head, a chain made a tink sound right above him.
“There you are.” Walter grunted as he reached for the base of the chain. Click, the cargo hold was filled with a faint light, and Walter Mitty found himself no farther than ten feet from the man in the quarterdeck. Walter stayed put, as if nails had been plunged through his feet and were holding him to the floor of the cargo hold. “You, show yourself now!” he shouted, with his sword drawn. There was no time to react, the man was off and running.
Disregarding everything in their path, both of the men were bounding over barrels and vests. The man was fast, but Walter Mitty was faster. Walter held up his sword as they both neared the exit of the cargo hold, and slashed it across the man’s back. Walter heard a grunt as the man hurdled up the stairs. A wave of bravery surged into Walter’s mind. The man took a straight path out of the cargo hold’s exit, but Walter had other plans. “Everybody,” Walter shouted to the crewmates, “catch him!”
No one batted an eye, but instead just parted a path through the crowd to avoid being trampled. “Are you all just useless?” He groaned through gritted teeth. Walter took a sharp turn to his left and faced another set of stairs. Two, four, six… He was like a freight train, stopping for nothing, and making his way to the back of the ship.
Mitty climbed the short ladder to get to the top, and searched around for what he was looking for. The ropes dangling from the mizzen tower of the ship swayed back and forth in the wind. Walter Mitty dug his feet into the mildewy floorboards and clenched his fists. With all of his might, Mitty ran across the boards and sailed through the air. Once close enough, he unclenched his fists and outstretched his arms, wincing at the thought of failure.
“Haha,” he laughed to himself, “and where might you be off to,” he said while soaring straight towards the man on the rough ropes, just as the ship had once sailed to the iceberg. Luckily enough, it appeared that the stuck broom remained in its position, since the boat had turned just enough to be on track to just miss the iceberg. The man neared the bow of the ship, but so did Mitty. With great determination, Walter maneuvered himself on the ropes to be lined up with his target. The man spun around, but it was too late.
Walter Mitty drove both of his feet into the man’s abdomen, sending him flying off the edge of the ship. As the man plummeted down into the nearly frozen waters, Mitty swung back to the base of the ship after hanging above the ship’s bow.
The man screamed, “What have you done!” But his cries were muffled by the ship’s engine.
Walter landed back down onto the wood. Breathing heavily, he turned around to face the congregation of people gathering around to see what happened. Some leaned over the edge of the ship and watched as the boat progressed past the towering iceberg, and some leaned over the balcony of the quarterdeck, unknowing of what tragedies lay beneath them.
Cheers and applause erupted from the admiring sailors, however, Walter Mitty’s eyes were caught by one in particular. A beautiful brunette lady, leaning on the balcony’s dark wood. She was positioned in the direction of the moon’s dull and pale lighting. The clouds had now parted, and the hostile winds had become no more than a gentle sea breeze. The puffs of air softly blowing her hair past her shoulders. The moon’s light accentuated her silhouette and cast a faint shadow on the pole behind her. Their eyes met, and Walter was filled with admiration.
The girl turned around and disappeared into the darkness, but only to be seen a moment later dashing down the first set of steps, then the second, and before Walter knew it, she was grabbing his hand and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you, Walter.” She said softly, while staring into his eyes. “I’m here.” He answered back.
…
“Walter,” Mrs.Mitty called to him, “who are you talking to?” He was standing a couple feet away from his car, “”You scare me sometimes, you know.” She pulled on the car door, and it opened, “Oh my, and you didn’t even lock the car. You’ve been out here for five minutes!” She criticized him.
| Credit | liIy - for suggesting that I post this |
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