A spirit without a soul the odyssey of an evil

Ship of Doom, Captain Boil

Since rescuing the survivors of the Flying Dutchman, I have maintained a severe cruising schedule. The captain of the Flying Dutchman had said he would follow the South American coastline, and I have managed to pick up many anxious sailors in need of rescue.

The weather has been kind to us. Boil may be considered the world's largest cargo ship. It is so large it looks like she was made to take hold of an ocean. The following photos show her bow and stern, two different pictures at two different points in time.

We are now at latitude 45 degrees north. My sailing to Cape Lopez, Mexico should not exceed three months.

Shortly III start this diary, three of my crew had been lost at sea, Boil had been on a swing of eighty degrees east since this incident.

I had taken on a young man off a merchantman from Amsterdam, his name was Edward. Despite being a good lad, he had been angered by many things. His only redeeming qualities were his skill at sewing and a strong belief in a new chili I had concocted.

He had a sharp tongue, a strong force of will, and a fear of ghosts that radiated from Boil herself. Unlike most of the sailors that had been on the Dutchman, this new one did not seem afraid that I had killed the crew of that ship. He understood that the waves had not been kind to them, that was why he was here.

It was then that I saw Boil's dead eyes shift. I knew what the dead were, the sea denizens, spirits who lacked a soul. They were nightmares who could kill without remorse. Even though no one else but the crew had spotted the shift in the frames of this picture, Edward noticed.

"Is there something in the rear of the ship?" Edward asked.

"You're showing fear," Edward muttered. "You should know what you sail in. The ship back there might be gifted by an evil spirit."

"I have heard that not all ghosts are evil. Perhaps it is your chili that is making you feel this way."

"I don't think that is it. I think it is you."

Edward huffed. This huff was the first sign of power that Edward had shown. He had displayed the huff of a man, but something was different. It was more of a sound rather than a motion, and it was coming from the rear of the ship.

Edward moved towards the aft of the ship. He did not like his ship and did not want to go there. But his fear did not win out.

Edward was not afraid of monsters or ghosts. However, his fear did erode away at his arms and thighs, leaving him in a grotesquely stunted position.

I rushed toward Edward with my engineering staff in my hand, with me on my shoulder was said shaman. Edward was shaking, I didn't want him to be afraid of me, but it was clear that his fear was greater than he would admit.

He slowly walked towards me, his arms dangling closer to his torso.

"Do you know what happened?" Edward asked.

"No," I said. "You had some wounds on you when you left the Dutchman, did the ship attack you?"

"Yes," he nodded. "The ship."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to tell you," Edward said. "I don't want to say it out loud."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to know if it was one of the people on the Dutchman."

"Edward you must tell me so I can stop it."

"They attacked me because the spiritual aura around me was strong. They killed me, but after that I was gone. I floated up in the sea, I saw the crew killed, but they were gone. I could not feel any pain or fear, I was in between worlds. I felt like Jesus, I felt like God. I was in the kingdom of the dead. I was there, but not there."

"What happened after? What did you see next?"

"I was alone, but I could feel others there. A priest came to me. He began to tell me about the souls of the dead. We can be together, you and I."

"What happened then?"

"I will not tell you. You must go into the lockers alone."

"We must destroy them."

"We must destroy this ship, not the souls on it."

I was confused. Edward seemed to know more about the dead than I, even though I was trained to fight them. He must have been intimate with these spirits.

"We are the same entity, but our physical form is different. If you are willing, you can have my soul. Our bodies are bound by this ship, the source of the endless hunger."

"No. If you are bound, I refuse to be bound. It sounds too much alike being tied to the captain of the Flying Dutchman."

"The captain of the ship was not bound to the ship."

"So he is still alive?"

"I refuse to answer, you must realize it yourself. But I will tell you this. When you came, the spirits attacked me and ate at my soul. If that happened, I would go there and be with them, and I would be yours."

"I refuse to believe they would do that. Your soul isn't weaker than my soul."

"Time tastes my soul," he muttered. "I still think I am like everyone else, but you do not think like them at all. You are like they say you are."

"You really think my soul is different?"

"I cannot explain it, I cannot make you understand the truth, but I feel it. My truth, your truth, my soul is different from everyone else.