This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/revaka on 2024-09-30 15:56:29+00:00.
“Stop playing with my hair,” I chided my younger brother Mark as he swung his body back and forth in utmost boredom, finding the perfect victim to keep his hands occupied. I was focused on my iridescent shell bracelet I’d picked up at one of the shops, trying to loosen the knot that was cutting off my circulation. We were waiting to board a week-long cruise that’d snake through the Norwegian Fjords, a break from our usual quiet suburban holidays. This trip was different, a way to commemorate what my parent’s called their “second life”, now that Mark was about to start college and I was mid-way through my PhD. Mark didn’t want to come, but the promise of breathtaking landscapes replete with snowy peaks viewed from the comfort of a heated cabin, and most importantly, without having to lift a finger — meant our parents eventually won.
Looking around at the crowd, from newlyweds to recent graduates on their gap years, we really were the spitting image of the American nuclear family. A thick mist was setting in when we finally stepped onto the ship, where a photographer ushered us in front of a sterile blue backdrop. I wrapped my arms around my beaming parents, while my brother was slightly off to the side, flashing his dopey grin. Still looking at the camera, I leaned over and teased, “think you’ll brave the pool?”
Mark’s face soured as the flash went off. He couldn’t swim. Or rather, he wouldn’t, after a freak accident when he was seven. No one saw it happen. We were at the beach, and he came back from the water with cuts running down the entire lower half of his body. Years of therapy and the slow but sure magic of time quelled the aquaphobia, but he never went into the water again. I think my parents were waiting for when he was ready to tell them what happened, but seeing his improvement in the sessions, they never pressed him and no one spoke of it again. The ship had two massive heated outdoors pools, but with the biting cold and the sun setting around 3pm, I doubted anyone would use them. I didn’t know it then, but those decks would become desolate, nearly frozen, by nightfall.
The trip was as serene as the cruise ad sold it to be, with some hikes and city tours here and there, but most of our time was spent onboard reveling in the festivities and never ending smorgasbord. We learned about hygge from another family onboard, and the crew certainly leaned into it, providing hot chocolate or gløgg at every corner. Still, when the sun slipped past the horizon, something changed, and everyone would huddle together inside almost instinctively. Darkness swallowed the surroundings and only the soft lapping of water could be heard.
One afternoon after a nap, I woke up to a dark cabin with no sign of Mark. Glancing at my phone I saw a text, “Heard someone say we’d be able to see the northern lights tonight, gone up to check.” I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up and join him. Not long after, I heard the door open and slam shut. “Mark?” I called out. No response. I stepped out of the bathroom, my face falling when I saw him. He stood frozen with his back against the door, his body rigid.
“What happ-,“ I started, but he raised his hands to his face and I realized he was sobbing. Now concerned, I reached for the telephone to call our parents, but he looked up and said “Don’t.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know,” his voice barely audible. “I went up the deck after texting you. There were a few people waiting to see the lights, but it was too cloudy. So we waited. Then it got cold and people started leaving. I was about to leave too, but then I heard music.”
That wasn’t unusual, there was often bands playing on the ship at night.
“I thought I’d go to pass some time, but as I walked around the deck, the music never got louder than a faint hymn. That’s when I realized the sound wasn’t coming from the ship.”
My stomach dropped. We had left the nearest city hours ago and the closest ships were mere lights in the distance.
“I looked out towards the water,” he continued, “At first I couldn’t see anything, but then something moved. There was something…bobbing just beneath the surface.”
“Keep going,” I pressed, the room suddenly turning colder.
“I didn’t know what I was looking at, but then I saw it. There were two pitch-black pupils staring right at me. And then it smiled and I could see the rows of razor-sharp teeth. And it stared humming.” He groaned. “It’s come back for me.”
I froze, my mind racing for answers, but it was too late, and there was nowhere to go. I promised him we’d figure this out tomorrow. He said nothing, just climbed into his bed, sitting up and stared at the closet.
At some point I fell asleep, until the phone rang. Mark’s bed was empty and there was a note on the nightstand. Before I could read it, my mom’s voice crackled through the receiver. “Have you seen Mark? Someone just reported they saw someone jump off the ship.
I looked down at the note. “Gone for a quick dip.” And then I saw the unmistakable trace of water leading from the door to the closet.