Kelly Rowan

My Phobia
by Kelly Rowan

Imagine a foggy night, going over dark mysterious water in a boat. The engine suddenly made a huge clunking sound. It was pitch black and I couldn’t see anything. The driver searched for a spotlight, then flashed it to see what was wrong. He saw a buoy caught in the blades. The rope is sliced up and tangled around the whole motor. “It’s going to be a while.” The captain said.

          It was a cold eerie night and a few men were working on untangling the rope. The boat was rocking side to side and a couple of emergency lights were on. You could see the dark eerie water splashing up on the boat. I had a terrible feeling. I never wanted to go anyway, my parents made me go. I was sitting on the edge of the boat listening to my I-pod to pass the time. A wave splashed up onto my back, which gave me a creepy feeling. I went below deck. You could see the water up against the round porthole. It seems that every five minutes the water was rising and rising, making it creepier and creepier. I felt like I was going to be swallowed by the black water, so I ran back up to the deck.

          The men were still untangling the line. One guy, who just happened to be my dad’s boss, was leaning up against the railing watching the workers. I never liked him, I’m not sure why. Suddenly I heard a thud and then the boat started to rock fiercely, then I heard a splash. When I looked around I realized the boss had gone overboard. Everybody panicked, which toppled on top of my fears that I already had. What happened? Where did he go? Am I next? HELP!

          It was now around five a.m., still in the boat, still stuck to the rope. I looked around, and everyone had fallen asleep. We had no choice; we had to wait for help. We were at the mercy of the murky water.   I was watching the water; something about it gave me chills. Ever since I was little, I hated the ocean. So many mysterious creatures lived beneath the surface.

          It was now almost six a.m. over the horizon; you could see the faint glow of the new sun. The soft light gave me hope. It’s strange that when light comes in to play things don’t appear as scary as they do in the dark. I could now see the bottom of the rising sun.  It was a welcoming sight. My fear of the dark water was slowly fading. In the distance I heard the churning of a small gasoline engine straining to push the rescue boat towards us. They pulled along side and asked if we were ok. The boat was white, orange, and blue and the men were all dressed in sparkling white pressed uniforms. It was the coast guard. They cut the line setting loose the prop and up sprang the buoy, which must have been right below the surface of the water. “Ahoy” said a distant voice. There, clinging to the buoy, riding it like a cowboy on a bucking bronco, was the boss. The coast guard tied the front of our boat to the back of their boat using a thick, coarse rope.   As we passed the buoy, we stopped to pick up the boss.

          It’s funny, when I look at the water now as the sun is warming my shoulders, the water had turned from a murky darkness to a brilliant turquoise. It is beautiful and I ask myself, “How can something so ugly, turn into something so beautiful?” After all, wasn’t it the same water?

photography by Robert F. Burgess
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