Surrounded by an endless black ocean, Gilbert Smith paddled forward in a vain search for land. The world around him had no horizon—he couldn’t tell the empty sea from the vacant sky—and he heard no sound except for his desperate pleas for help. His strokes became shorter as eons passed in the breadth of a second, until his limbs burned from the effort and refused to move any longer. Still he screamed for help, but no reply came and the omnipresent darkness pressed down on him so that he had to throw back his head to keep his face above the water.
Then the sound of a woman’s voice calling his name cut through the darkness like the beam of a lighthouse. “Gil-bert,” she sang, holding the end of each syllable for an eternity. Strength returned to his limbs and he propelled himself in the direction of the voice to find the woman at its source who possessed the power to turn his ordinary name into a beautiful symphony.
The Siren continued her one-word song while he plowed through the black water, ignoring the growing pain in his arms and legs. He continued to paddle forward until, on the verge of yielding to his agony, a slice of land appeared before him. A woman stood on the beach, her skin the color of cinnamon, her hair as dark as obsidian, and her eyes sparkling like sapphires. “Erica,” he said and swam towards her with his last reserves of strength.
Then a new voice boomed like thunder, churning the waters around him. “Dad, it’s Ellie. Can you hear me?” A tsunami bore him away from Erica and mashed him into the suffocating depths before flinging him into the air. Lightning ripped through the sky and while Gilbert screamed for Erica, everything around him turned from black to gray to a blinding white. For an instant Gilbert sailed through the light, until his eyes opened onto a beige universe, sunlight from a distant window casting shadows along the wall.
“Erica,” he mumbled and turned his head to find her. Instead, he discovered a myriad of tubes hooked into his arms, the tubes leading to a cluster of beeping and whirring machines. “Erica,” he said again, this time with regret.
“No, Dad, it’s Ellie. Ellie. Remember?”
His neck creaked like a rusty gate as he swiveled it to the right and saw his daughter sitting in a beige chair, her pale skin blushing, her fiery hair spilling into her eyes, and her nose glistening when the light caught the diamond stud along her left nostril. Her hand reached out for his, her black fingernails digging into his flesh. “Erica was a character in your last book. She’s not real.”
Gilbert nodded, a stab of pain shooting through his muscles as he sat up against his stiff hospital pillows. “Right. I was just dreaming,” he said, his voice cracking with each syllable. Ellie handed a glass of water to him and after the icy liquid coursed down his throat, he asked, “How long have I been out?”
“Two days. I was starting to worry.” Ellie let Gilbert’s hand drop and added, “I called Mom yesterday.”
“What’d she say?”
“She’ll send a card.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Do you want me to let Max know you’re awake?”
Gilbert coughed until his chest burned from the effort. “Just tell him I might not meet my deadline.”
“Come on, Dad, it’s not like that. He’s been outside keeping the reporters and fans at bay.”
“You still seeing him?” he asked and Ellie nodded. “He finalize the divorce yet?”
“Dad, let’s not discuss this—”
“There may not be time to discuss this later. I don’t want you sleeping around with married men.”
“I’m twenty-five. I can take care of myself.”
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The Carnival Papers
Short Story**A WATTPAD FEATURED COLLECTION** A young girl takes her first steps into the real world. A boy experiences the joy and pain of a first love. An old man relives the stories he's written. These are just some of the stories of The Carnival Papers, a v...
