Page 1 of These Eternal Bones

Breach of Fate

Big God - Florence and the Machine

Molly

My teeth gnash together as my back collides hard with the endlessly damp wooden walls, the sea determined to rid me of whatever small rations I’d managed to choke down this morning.

It wasn’t much, but after weeks of this, I can’t afford to lose it.

Already, the sleeves of my dress fit looser than when I boarded, the hem of my skirt so worn and damp with urine and vomit no amount of scrubbing will clean it; I stopped trying days ago.

There is little dignity to be had as a quickly discovered stowaway on a fishing vessel, but desperate times call for a stark recalculation of pride.

“Miss Molly, we’ve taken damage to the hull. We’re letting her drift to the nearest port. ”

Dread pools in my stomach, only adding to the bitter turmoil. My fingers rubbing together on my left hand. The roughness there, banded almost entirely in a thin line at the base of my ring finger is enough to force substance to my voice. “Thank you.”

“This means your payment–”

“Yes, I’ll send for the funds immediately. H-how long before we hit land?”

“Four hours, maybe less, maybe more. We’re at the mercy of the sea now.”

As if we haven’t been for the past several weeks.

Laython doesn’t stick around for my response; his lanky frame lumbering back towards the upper deck.

He doesn’t look like much, but he’s deceptively strong, something I found out the hard way the night he discovered me hidden away amongst the fish cages.

Fear had gripped me so violently I’d lost my mind to panic, raging and clawing, screaming and spitting, very much acting like the animal I was told I would be.

Such is the price for leaving New Eden, the price for leaving him .

When reason came back to me, I made a vow, a new one, one that wasn’t by force…

whatever the cost, I would see myself far away from the desert I called home.

I paid that night on my knees, and many since, but flesh is far from enough.

The captain wants coin . I’ve promised him as much.

I’ve yet to figure out how I’ll get it, but that’s a problem for future Molly.

Molly, right now, is just thankful to have some reprieve from the sea, even if that only brings with it more strife.

Past Molly was stupid. Blissfully, innately stupid, but how I long for that girl.

I wait far after I hear the call for land.

Minutes have an odd way of passing like hours on this ship.

My ears are tracking the crew's frenzied movements above me before I surface. The murky light, even dimmed by sea-mist and fog, is jarring to my eyes compared to the dark cabins I’ve grown accustomed to.

My jaw clenches, my attention slipping to Captain Faine’s rough beard as his boots pivot, clomping on the hardwood of the boat as he approaches, damming my luck.

His sour breath fans my face. “Now don’t run off and get any ideas.

Send to your family back home. Tell them to send the transfer to the New Isles in three weeks’ time.

You’ll show me the proof of your telegram, or so help me your whore’s debt will be the least of your worries.

” He keeps his hold on me as we exit the ship, my legs unsteady on the ramp.

Heat spreads across my chest, sinking its fingers in deep.

That old festering anger brings with it the bludgeoning realization that nowhere is safe.

There will be no haven on this land or the next.

No amount of running will ever be enough.

Not for anyone but particularly not a woman.

This festering, quiet kind of anger seems to throb with new life.

The one that was beaten and pried from my mothers and sisters, the one I heard late at night in their muffled sobs.

The cabins would be dark when they’d scream their rage into their pillows.

That familiar hopelessness consumes me all at once.

Again, I am at the bidding of a fetid man.

The misery I was raised on snuffs out my rage and pride in one fell swoop, leaving my chest hollow and tepid.

His fingers dig into my arm harder, one final warning before he shoves me away.

The world pivots hard, making me stumble, my footing uneasy on land.

Odd how, in just a few weeks, land had become the unfamiliar one.

The crew laughs as I struggle to right myself, following me down the foggy, desolate pier into an even foggier desolate town.

Fear roots in my belly like a meal that’s gone off, my once white dress now a foul shade of yellow.

I keep my eyes there, on the swishing of fabric as they all depart, off to find whatever bar they can sate themselves in.

The town itself seems to be muted, the colors paled by the fog.

Blues and brick faded by the sea. My body worn in solidarity with it, like the universe thought it would be in my best interest to match everything else here before I arrived.

I’d convinced myself things would get better aboard The Tabot once the alcohol dried up, but I was wrong.

Horribly so, although I try not to hang on the negatives…

there are just so many. The sunnier side is dimming by the minute.

“Your resistance isn’t only hurting you; it’s hurting your family. When you shy away from me, you shy from God’s light.”

My heart jolts in my chest, my head throbbing as I make my way past a group of kids tossing rocks at a street sign.

They scatter, but I barely see them. Barely hear their whispers about my smell.

I can see the postal office looming down the cobblestone road, and beyond it is a lighthouse.

Black and foreboding, high above the rest of the town, looming like a sentinel.

What a peculiar color for something meant to illuminate.

I don’t know if it’s the lighthouse or his words tunneling through the echo chamber of my mind that has me quickening my pace.

Refusing to look behind me to see if someone is watching.

I don’t pay any attention to the townspeople milling about.

My tightly wound oily hair works loose with each jarring step, my heartbeat so violent it tightens my chest with each pump.

The second I pass the postal building, which looks empty and closed anyway, the band snaps.

My hair falls heavy against my shoulders as I run for the wood line, knowing whatever lurks there could not possibly be worse than the fate that awaited me in Eden.

It couldn’t possibly be as soul-jarring as Captain Faine’s fetid breath and hungry hands.

My feet pound through damp puddles of mud, leaves, and vegetation, my panic again driving me into a deeper unknown.

I can’t be sure how long I run, only that by the time I stop, the sun has lowered and the woods with all their fog and creaking seem far more menacing than when I started.

Long ago, the signs of life ended, not with any gentle fading but with the finality of a blade slicing pliant flesh.

As if they know something I don’t, something unwelcoming and impossibly dark.

The moon, if nothing else, is on my side as I brace against a tree desperately trying to quiet my heaving, raspy breaths.

It doesn’t work, and the chill of the night whittles straight to the bone.

The salty sea air and taint of the life it holds is traded for wet, rotted earth.

My sweat damp forehead finds the bark of the tree I’m braced on, my lips gracing the rough surface as I struggle to calm the burning in my chest. My panting is so wretched, I barely notice how badly I’m shaking before my head snaps behind me, my thick hair shielding my vision before I jerk it away. There’s nothing there.

There’s nothing there.

Tears burn my eyes as I stare into the darkness, the shadows playing their wicked games.

There is no higher being to call on, none that would hear me.

Where my prayers would once grace my lips, they are now immobile.

I steel myself, ignoring the prickled hair on the back of my neck and the goosebumps dotting clammy flesh.

My leg wobbles as I turn away, my booted foot barely inching in front of the other before I collapse.

Bile curdles in my stomach as my eyes flutter closed, having long passed the point of exhaustion.

I can start again in a moment, I assure myself.

That’s all I need. A moment to catch my breath.

My body gives another violent tremble as I curl in on myself, hugging my middle for warmth.