UnluckyGuy13

UnluckyGuy13

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Horror at Sea as a Seafarer The bridge was quiet except for the hum of the radar and the soft hiss of the air conditioner. It was the last hour of my night watch, and the sea outside was nothing but black glass. When the door clicked open, I felt relieved — my duty reliever was early. We talked about the course, the wind, the monotonous calm that made the hours stretch thin. He didn’t say much, just nodded, his face pale in the glow of the instrument lights. When I handed over the logbook, our fingers brushed. His skin was cold — not the chill of the air, but something deeper, wrong. A few minutes after I stepped out, the door opened again behind me. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” my reliever called, rubbing his eyes. I turned, heart tightening. “You were just here,” I said. He frowned, confused, holding the untouched logbook in his hand. Then, through the bridge glass, I caught a reflection — someone standing where I had been, head tilted, smiling faintly in the dim red glow of the radar. I haven’t done a night watch alone since. Stake ID: UnluckyGuy13