"Capt. Chris? he's just a rude jerk misplaced in time. I don't think a ghost like you should be scared of him," Cecilia said, innocently defending a person he knows nothing of
"Naïve child…you know not what you speak, Crisanto Flores is a man whose heart turned to dust long even before you were born, he was picked from his prime to fulfill the duty of being the ferryman of souls, and that is why he abhors spirits and ghosts" The ghost looked around her surroundings "Heed my warning child, never board that ship again. For her captain turns his wrath on innocent souls. I witnessed his cruelty firsthand; he threw a child's soul into the Kasanaan River, which is why I ran away from that accursed ship!" The ghost quickly shuffled away, phasing through a wall.
She called the ghost, but she no longer responded. Shrugging her shoulders, Cecilia proceeded to the market. The day went on without any hitch; in fact, it went very well for her, selling all the fish in record time. She went home early, even bragging to her pops that it was due to her cuteness that people bought every last one of their fish.
At five thirty in the afternoon, Cecilia had just finished a well-deserved hot shower. She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and another towel was wrapped around her hair. The TV in the room was broadcasting a news update, "The body of business tycoon Arnulfo Tan was found dead this morning after several days of being kidnapped. His widow calls upon the Manila Police to hasten their investigation. The body was already in a state of advanced decomposition…" Cecilia turned off the TV, frowning and annoyed.
"Tsk, I already see dead people, now even the news is all about other dead people." She sat on the King-sized bed wrapped in golden silk bed sheets. She took off the towel wrapped around her head and started to dry her hair. "Wow, these sheets are so soft…wait a minute! When did I have gold-colored sheets?"
She looked around her surroundings and noticed she was in a big, lavish room with maple wood floors and walls. "When did Pops get me a TV?"
The door to the room swings open, and Chief Murillo enters, followed by several crew ladies, all carrying different kinds of clothes and elegant dresses. Because she was only covered by a towel, Cecilia pulled the bedsheets to cover her modesty. "Where am I?" she asked, confused and dazed.
"Isn't it obvious? We're on the ship," Chief Murillo replied with a smirk. "It is about to depart, and we will be opening the bar soon." She glanced at the selection of evening gowns and picked out an ankle-length pink cocktail dress that transitions with violet accents. "Like you, I am partial to pink myself; incidentally, it goes well with violet."
"Wait! How did I get here? I was in my bathroom, then all of a sudden, I'm here?" She is racking her brains about how she got back to the ship.
"Everyone bound to the ship can be transported back when it's about time to leave port, should the captain wish so." Chief Murillo then showed Cecilia the dress she picked out, the dress she was going to wear when she sang in the bar
"I can't wear that to my next job!" she protested, fending off the crew ladies trying to get the sheet and towel from her. "Wait, what are you doing? This is all I'm wearing!"
"Don't worry, we will be dressing you up fabulously, may I add?" Chief Murillo nudged the other crew ladies to continue dressing up their singer. "Now go to the lounge and practice!"
Chris was inspecting the gold deck alongside Chief Bustamante, making sure the passengers on that deck were well taken care of. "Make sure the shrimp cocktails are replenished. I saw the ice cream, and the chocolate fountain was about to run out. Take care of it."
"Aye, Captain," Bustamante replied, "This way, Sir, the lounge is closed, but it's the next place to inspect before the opening later."
"Pink, that new singer, the human? Is she that good?" Chris wondered if Murillo's choice was really in line with his expectations
"Absolutely! Captain! She may be a human, but Chief Murillo made a great choice," he answered with the utmost confidence. "She sings like an angel," he assured Chris while flapping his hands like a pair of wings
When the two entered the lounge, they were surprised to see Cecilia banging her head on the piano keys. "I'm on the boat of the dead…how can I be on the ship of the dead, when I'm still alive?"
"Cecilia, you stupid, stupid, stupid wench." She flailed her arms around, which made Chris and Chief Officer Bustamante flinch
Chris glared at Bustamante. "He heh." The Chief Officer nervously chuckled, "Well, at least she's not laughing."
Out of the blue, the two heard hysterical laughing coming from Cecilia. "Wahahahaha! I'm on the ship of the dead! Whoooo, this is so much fun!"
Chris and Bustamante exchanged glances. "At least she's not crying?"
But then again, this time they heard crying, and the source? None other than Cecilia "Huhuhuhuhuhu, I'm on the ship of the dead! WAAAAAAH!" Chief Bustamante quickly led the captain out of the lounge.
Not long after, the ship's foghorn roared, signaling that the massive ship was about to set sail. On the bridge, Chris sits in the captain's chair. "Are all preparations complete?"
"Aye, Captain, the ship is ready to set sail," Chief Bustamante confirmed.
"Weigh anchors, then move astern, slowly take her out," Chris ordered
After the ship's massive machines secured the anchors, the ship moved backward. "We are free of the port captain," Chief Bustamante reports to the captain. "We are now facing westward."
"Set course and full speed ahead." Chris stood from his chair. "Chief officer, you have the bridge." he left the bridge, sure it was in good hands.
Upon entering his quarters, he took a seat in his chair, ignoring the chilling wails that permeated this dreadful space. He was drawn here by the solitude it offered. Closing his eyes, he soon sensed something was off; an unsettling quietness surrounded him. But beneath the quiet, an unsettling stillness pressed in—too heavy, too complete. His eyes snapped open, scanning the room. The portraits of past captains, once twisted with torment, now hung serene and peaceful, their gazes softened as if freed from centuries of suffering.
A whisper of sound caught his attention—a soft, melodic voice threading through the stillness like a gentle breeze. Rising, he moved toward the source, each step pulling him deeper into the ship's heart. The melody grew clearer, richer, filled with warmth and longing. As he reached the Gold deck, the bar's doors swung open, revealing a lively scene bathed in golden light. The crowd was enraptured, their faces glowing with wonder.
There, on the stage, stood Cecilia. Her voice wove through the air, delicate yet powerful, stirring something long dormant within Chris. The weight of centuries lifted slightly, replaced by a fragile hope. For the first time in nearly two hundred years, tranquility settled over him—not just in his mind, but in his very soul.
Chris closed his eyes, breathing deeply, letting the music wash away the shadows. In that moment, the Twilight was no longer just a vessel of duty and sorrow—it was a beacon of renewal, and Cecilia its radiant light.