Sharkcicles

The sky was overcast as the old steamer pulled in to the docks at the Long Island Sound. I don't remember disembarking, but I suddenly stood on the pier, my luggage stacked behind me, as seagulls cried mournfully in the fog.

Zeppelins crossed paths over head as spotlights from the great city raked the sky. In the center of the water, the Machines worked. Great, hulking silver generators and turbines stood tall before an abnormal rectangular void into which the water poured. I wondered whether this was accomplished with a glass enclosure or some type of force field.

At the end of the pier, I presented my identification badge and the guard let me through. I stepped through the booth and took my first tentative step on to the water. I could see the glass about an inch below the surface, reinforced and braced in metal frames. There was no hand railing, and the walkway was only about three feet across. Waves cascaded over my feet as I stepped carefully, avoiding the metal bar at the end of each pane and keeping my arms out for balance. I nearly stepped into the deep waters when the path veered ninety degrees to the right.

Near to the giant turbines, the water was surprisingly crisp. I could see now the sides of other glass walkways, not walkways at all but shelving units extending in to the depths. I could only assume that beneath my feet was exactly what I saw in the distance. These glass enclosures contained rows and columns of black and white sharks, cryogenically preserved. Perhaps they were being transported here for some futuristic aquatic amusement park.

I turned as the wind picked up, nearly losing my balance. Fear overcame curiosity, and the guard booth seemed so far away. Without a railing, I wasn't venturing any further. Walking low, my hands inches above the water as I crouched, I made my way back to the booth and the opaque pier beyond.

And then I woke up.

So, that's my elaboration of question #7 in yesterday's one word answers. I think most of the other answers are self explanatory. I guess the darkest one would be about my sister, to which I answered “stillborn” with some reservation. I'm an only child, but used to tell kids in elementary school that I had two deceased older sisters, something that never landed me in counseling oddly enough. My mom went through several miscarriages before they finally “succeeded”, and two she carried to term only for them to be stillbirths. Our local cemetery has a mass grave for babies who don't make it, and we used to visit it a lot when I was little.

As for some of the other questions, Muffin was the name of one of the cats we had when I was a toddler, and Chirp of course is the name of one of our cats now. B13 disagreed with #15 in which I wrote I wasn't a good conversationalist, but I do feel I'm limited with topics and take a while to venture out of my shell. For example, I've known B13 for over seven years but I've only really conversed with him within the last two. Once I'm comfortable with people, and get to know what interests we share, I'm a lot better. When I first meet someone, especially a female, I don't want to wave my geek flag and I know very little about sports, so I tend to alternate between awkward silences and comments on the weather. It would be nice if life came with a pause button, so I could compose my thoughts and organize my words the way I do with my writing. When I reach the comfort zone, either through time or alcohol, then I'm all jokes, television theories, and funny voices. And of course in the freedom of my subconscious, I invent weird new worlds with big machines and frozen deadly creatures.