As promised, here is part 2 of the Columbus Voyage experiment. This one was my favorite, and I found it much easier to write. I felt a little darkness inside of me oozing out while typing this up. I hope you enjoy it, and as always, I welcome feedback. Have a great week!

One man believes he saw a monster. His name is Roberto Guzman. Guzman has since been detained due to our belief that he is a threat to the ship and crew. His account follows:

I was at the helm. Captain was giving orders, trying to save us from the storm and ourselves. I held the wheel, and used all my strength to keep it from losing control. The rain poured down on us; it burned my eyes. But I saw it. Through the waves, the rain, and the men running for their lives. I heard the scream, not from a man, but from the beast. I saw its claws. I felt its breath.

No one saw it coming. I couldn’t scream or warn anyone. I saw it circling our ship over and over again as we were tossed, trying to avoid overturning or losing any men. The clouds enveloped the ship, and lightning struck all around us, but in the shadows … Yes, in the shadows you could see the blackest of black of creatures looking for its next prey.

Its wings spread wide, but it was faster than the light from the sky. It knew I could see it. Its eyes, as big as the sun, glared at me as I struggled to speak, to tell them to take cover. The claws, easily as wide as our biggest man, stretched out wide. A tail, sleek and deadly hit the sails, ripping gaping holes in it, but everyone thinks it was the storm. Everyone but me.

I could hear its scream when the lightning came, but there was no color in the sky. It was a shadow monster. A monster you fear, one you cannot see. The smell of rotten fish and flesh emitted from it; it came up behind me, changing shape … getting smaller to get inside of me. I knew it was coming. The hair on my neck froze, and it was gone. It taunted me, telling and showing me I could not warn the others. There was no saving them. I begged, “Please spare me. I beg of you, do not take me.”

The storm ended. Whether it came with the beast or our prayers were answered, I do not know. It was over though, and we were safe, but I knew different. I knew it was looking for a victim; a beast like that doesn’t need food; it wants blood and only blood.

The men began celebrating and checking for their crew-mates. I pulled myself upright at the helm; captain came by and patted me on the back. “Good work, Guzman,” he said.

Good work, indeed. I heard someone tell Juan, Little Juan as we called him, to go up to the crow’s nest to check for rocks or land. We lost our bearings, but I knew we weren’t far from the mainlands. Our lady held up, and we would be able to repair any damage.

I peered up and saw Little Juan climbing up. I knew it was too late … I thought to scream out, to yell that it would come back, but no one would believe me. Many men have gone crazy in these waters and on these ships because our journeys are so long and sometimes treacherous. Little Juan was only supposed to be up there for a moment, just enough to make sure we weren’t damaged up top and to check our path was clear.

The night became even darker. Death was coming. The air became thick and heavy; it was like I steered us into a fog that we did not see coming. I couldn’t see my hands, the crew, the nest, nothing. The monster brought the fog; it wanted no one else to see it. No one could shoot it; it swooped in and took Little Juan before anyone could even hear his scream. I heard it though; I heard it in my mind. The beast was inside me; it knew I couldn’t fight it and was weak. It would spare me to use me again, to give away our location, and I would show it who was the weakest.

The air was cold as snow. It was its breath, and I could smell the dead souls in the air. I smelled the pain, the suffering, the loneliness … I smelled the rotting flesh. I saw a hump of a man lying on his side trying to protect himself from the monster, and I knew he saw it, too. His knees were up to his chin, and in the fog he could be confused with a pile of scraps. He would scream, but no one could hear him; he couldn’t warn Little Juan. In only a second, Little Juan was gone.

I relaxed my grip; it was over. I saw the fear in Little Juan’s eyes; he saw the giant claws and evil eyes. I saw the beast through his young eyes. He now knew death. The beast swooped in unseen and took what it wanted. It was hungry, hungry for fresh blood and rejuvenation. My weary arms felt strong again, and as the fog lifted Captain shouted for me to head north. I stood there in a daze and Captain grabbed my arm.

“Guzman! What happened to Little Juan? The men say he’s gone,” Captain said.

I replied, “The beast was hungry.”

“What are you going on about?” Captain asked.

“I saw the fear in his eyes. I felt the death on his breath. The monster took him.”

“What monster? No one has seen a monster,” Captain said.

“I am the monster.”

Break time! I want to use this week to share an experiment.

A friend and I were testing the waters to see if we could collaborate a series of horror/sci-fi stories about the Columbus voyages. The assignment was to use one situation and write two points of view, and we chose a flying beast for the monster. I admit, I am not a creative writer, so feel free to offer feedback and thoughts. I hope this will inspire you to branch out and write about something you have to research or write in a genre you are new to. This is the first of two, and don’t miss the second one on Monday!

It has been a quiet journey so far. That is until last night. The men say that a young man named Juan Lopez, also known as Little Juan, is missing. There are only a few accounts of what happened, but I spoke to Carlos Sanchez, a crewman aboard the Santa Maria. Here is his story…

The sea was angry. The skies were black as death itself, and the rain came crashing down on us with waves crashing around us from below. The ship rode the waves as best it could, but we fought to keep it afloat and stay on board. Men were running around everywhere. It seemed to go on for days. This storm was violent and enraged, and I knew we may lose our men. The sky lit up with revenge and roared like a hungry beast. We could barely hear our orders, and I thought it would never end.

I prayed. I asked God to spare the men and ship. Our journey was long, and we had much work to do. We needed every man we had for these travels.

Then my prayers were answered. The rain stopped, and the waves calmed. God heard my pleas and cries; He had a plan for us and our ship. We were safe again. But only for a moment.

Little Juan was missing. Some say he fell overboard during the storm. Others say he is hiding somewhere on the ship, but I know the creature took him. The creature no one could see. Men say I’m crazy, but I must tell you what happened. I have nothing to hide, and I know we are in danger.

After the storm, the waters were calm and Little Juan climbed in the crow’s nest to make sure the ship was in a path free of rocks or land. He was keeping a watchful eye and only supposed to be up there a short time. The few of us who were left working were watching him while cleaning after surviving the raging waters.

With no warning it became very cold. I could feel the sweat on my brow freeze as the night became silent. It was as if I had gone deaf; there was no sound, not even the sails or the creaks of the ship. I looked at Little Juan, and he looked as frozen as an iceberg. His eyes were wide with fear.

We all stood still, feeling as if death had wrapped its cold hands around our necks. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to, but the air hurt going in my mouth. I clutched the cross that hangs around my neck. I heard something in the distance, something that sounded like a person in unbearable pain. It was a faint scream; maybe a cry. Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming from our ship. It was coming from the sky.

The night sky rose open above us, and we could see as far as our eyes would allow. There was a loud crash of noise. It wasn’t a noise I have ever heard; it was so monstrous that even nature herself would tremble. It was the noise of something angry, something hungry. Something hungry for a soul.

It was the sound of the devil itself. With the rumble, we sailed into a great fog. It came out of nowhere!

I was pouring in sweat, but my hands were so frozen they could barely move. My filthy hands glowed white with fear. I began to pray again. Something evil was coming, and it was coming fast. Most of the crew was below, so the few of us left laid there on the deck cowering for mercy. I could no longer see anything; the air was so thick I just laid there holding my legs close to me praying that we wouldn’t be lost to the sea.

I worried about Little Juan. I never saw him come down, and it all happened so fast. I felt rage in the air; a kind of evil only a man knows. I know I heard a scream from the distance, but I never saw him fall or the demon that took him. He was gone. I shouted for him, but no one could hear my cries; I couldn’t hear my own screams.

The fog began to clear, and I knew it was over. Fear consumed me, and I looked myself up and down to make sure I was not missing anything. My legs, as numb as they were, were still there. My cross was imprinted into my hand. I slowly picked myself up and looked around. We were all confused. My body hurt from the cold.

I asked if anyone was hurt; everyone seemed like they were dead. I looked up to the nest, and Little Juan was gone. I yelled for him. We searched what we could. Other men came up and asked what happened. Panic set into some, but some don’t even remember him being in the crow’s nest, but he was there. He was supposed to come down. He wasn’t supposed to be the sacrifice.

For extra fun check out this Cinemassacre video for The Giant Claw, which I kept in mind while writing these stories.