Rainsford opened his eyes. All he saw was sea for what seemed like an infinity. He was sitting in the steamer chair on the afterdeck. The brier had fallen in his lap. He pulled himself from the chair. It was mid-morning. Rainsford walked to the breakfast table and sat down with Whitney and Captain Neilson. “I had the worst nightmare last night.” Rainsford said. “Do you remember what is was about?” Whitney asked, as he passed Rainsford a plate of steak and potatoes. Rainsford shook his head. “No. But I think it had something to do with that Ship-Trap Island.” Captain Nielson’s eyes widened. “Do you know the folklore told about ships that pass that island?” he said. Rainsford and Whitney both had the most perplexed faces. “It is said that when a ship passes close to that island over thar, one of the people on the passing ship has a nightmare about the island. When the infected person sees blood after the dream, they have a sudden bloodlust and murder everyone on the ship.” Rainsford and Whitney stared in awe. Rainsford broke the silence. “What did I tell you Whitney, one superstitious sailor can taint the whole crew.” Rainsford cut into his steak. Blood poured out. He pulled the piece of steak to his mouth and bit into it. It was chewy and barely went down his throat. “I’m sorry Whitney, Captain, I am not feeling well. I will now retire my cabin.” Whitney and Nielson looked at each other, worrisomely.
Rainsford ran down to his cabin. He slid on his knees, landing right next to the toilet. He vomited. 2 days’ worth of meals came rushing up his throat, or so he thought. When Rainsford looked down all he saw was red. Blood. He fainted.
Rainsford woke up. He unsteadily got up from the bathroom floor. He felt somehow, different. The walls were talking to him; making sounds in his delirium. A figurative switch had flipped in Rainsford’s brain. He went into his baggage and pulled out the largest and smallest hunting knives that he had. The smaller one he shoved into his pocket. With the large hunting knife in hand, he went back up to the breakfast table. A glint of madness and bloodlust was in his eye. He snuck up on Whitney, quietly. Then he stabbed Whitney hard through the chest. Blood spurted everywhere. He stabbed Whitney again and again, like a madman. “Et tu, Rainsford?” said Whitney, as he passed away. He was gone. Rainsford violently pulled the hunting knife out of Whitney’s lifeless, limp body. He slowly turned to the fearless swede. But, a glimmer of fear was in his eye. Nielson already had his short-barreled revolver pointed at Rainsford, all he had to do was pull the trigger. In that instant, Rainsford lunged toward the Captain and stabbed him in his throat. The fearless old swede slowly fell to the ground as he lost consciousness. Rainsford had a maniacal smile on his face. “MORE” he screamed. “MORE”. He again stabbed the Captain again and again, watching the blood spurt and gush everywhere. He left the large hunting knife in the swede and picked up the revolver. He stuffed it in his pocket. He pulled out the small hunting knife. He went through the bowels of the ship, killing every last crew member aboard the sea faring vessel. He brought himself back up to the afterdeck, sat in the steamer chair and fainted again.
Rainsford opened his eyes. All he saw was sea for what seemed like an infinity. He got out of the steamer chair and turned around. For the gruesome part of Rainsford’s brain, this was a beautiful sight. For the normal, this was a massacre. Around a hundred men lay strewn
around the deck. Blood was everywhere. It had already seeped through the floorboards and into the sea. The entire aura of the boat was covered in blood. And in blood and bodies, someone had written: “I will always be with you”.
Rainsford sat down. Tears were coming to his eyes. He thought to himself “why was I the only one left? Who killed everybody, including my dear friend Whitney and the dear old Captain? Who? Why?” Then he figured it out. While in delirium, he had committed this sin. He stood up on the deck and sobbed. He knew that the Captain’s folklore was correct. And he knew that he should spread the story. But sadness overwhelmed him. He reached for his brier in his pocket, but instead found the revolver. He then raised the revolver to his head and closed his eyes. Then came the sound of thunder.
Programming, Ascended 