Simon woke shivering. This wasn’t an uncommon thing. He had been homeless for 20 years now. 20 years since his dad had passed away. There was so much debt; the banks took everything. It was in that moment Simon decided to become a beach bum. He walked the hundreds of miles to the nearest beach. The miles and miles he walked took him to the biggest body of water he had ever seen with his two eyes. But there wasn’t the warmth he had dreamt of. Or the endless bikini clad bodies and hours of sunshine. His dream came true between May and September. Followed by cold, snow, and ice. Many nights he woke to fog frozen in his beard and eyelashes.
Woken by the bitter cold pressing down on him; Simon remained glued to his spot on the dock. A fog had rolled in so thick; his hand had to be in front of his nose before he could see it. If he moved, he might fall into the water and surely die. Homeless, hungry and at the moment, scared; he wasn’t ready to die. He would make it to his endless summer beach. Where he would never know cold again.
Were voices calling to him through the fog? No, couldn’t be. Who in their right mind would be out in this? He had a moments reprieve from the fear as he chuckled to himself; he was out in this.
“Ahoy!” He heard it loud and clear. A fog horn blew so loudly that it hurt his ears. He tried to block out the sound with his hands. It was no use. They were as thin as paper against the noise. His head was now buzzing from the assault.
Through the buzzing, did he hear it again? “Ahoy!”
How long did it last? Maybe if he laid back down, he could sleep it off?
This time the sound like that of a hammer hitting the dock woke him. The fog was still thick, cold and damp. His clothes were now completely soaked.
“Ahoy!”
“Who…. who’s there?” He stammered, rising to his knees.
The voice was loud and clear. “Ahoy!”
Simon cleared his throat. “Ahoy!” Finally shouting back.
“Where are you? I can’t see a thing in this fog.”
“Sitting on the dock.”
“Where are you?”
Simon thought about this question. “Don’t know. Never cared to know.”
“Where do you want to be?”
“Some place warm and sunny. Where I’ll never be cold again?”
“Follow my voice. Come to me.”
On his hands and knees, Simon crawled to the sound of singing. Blow the man down was being sung loud and strong. Soon a choir of voices filled his ears.
His hand slipped off the edge of the dock. Cold water tore at his arm through his coat. He was falling head first. A cry escaped him as strong hands pulled him up to a metal hole. Light poured around him. Eyes were painstakingly watching him.
“Welcome aboard the USS Scorpion.” A commanding voice greeted him. “We need a dishwasher.” Voices laughed. “What’s your name?”
“Simon.”
“Follow Mac. He’s our cook and your boss. He’ll get you some dry clothes and show you around.”
Everyone was friendly. Simon took to his new job with ease. In the kitchen, a calendar, 1967 was across the top in big red letters above a picture of Elizabeth Taylor. May first was marked through with a big X.
Simon had never felt this kind of camaraderie before. He felt like he belonged here. So, he decided to keep his mouth shut about the date being wrong on the calendar. His birth year was 1974.
Squid wanted to give Simon a tattoo. All the sailors had one. He finally agreed. Squid drew a mermaid sitting on an anchor with USS at the top and the word Scorpion curved around the bottom. It was the most beautiful thing Simon had ever saw. He kept his sleeve rolled high to show it off.
The days on the calendar were marked off one by one. 1968 received no official calendar. It was hand drawn on the back of the old one. Squid drew different pictures to celebrate the passing months. May 1, 1968.
“Land!” Rang throughout. Men erupted with laughter and cheering. Some even cried.
When it was Simon’s turn to disembark, his heart stopped. The water was the bluest blue he had ever seen. The trees so green it hurt to look at them. Beaches so white and pure, he cried when his feet touched them. Here! Here was where he wanted to be.
The crew of the Scorpion stayed here for two weeks. Relaxing among the locals.
Simon waved them off. He watched from his new home as the Scorpion dove out of sight. Light in his heart. Feeling a happiness he’d never felt before, Simon fell asleep under the stars. Warm not cold.
When he woke, he panicked. He was shivering. Everything was a bright white. Even his clothes. He knew the cold fog was back. The fog. The cold.
Four wall surrounded him. Where was he? There was a small cut out in one wall. It could have been a window. He was scared. Filled with the feeling of isolation. He ran over to the small cut out. Screaming at first. Then pounding. He pounded on the wall until it ran red with his blood. He screamed and cried until his voice was gone.
The window opened with a hiss. The hate-fullest looking man Simon ever saw was staring back at him.
“What?” The man barked.
“Where is the beach. The warmth. The sand.” His voice hurt. “Where?” The man didn’t speak. “The Scorpion dropped me off on a beach.”
“The USS Scorpion sank May 22nd, 1968 with all hands.”
“No.” He cried with a squeak in his voice. “I was just there. Not two weeks ago.” Angrily, he raised his shirt sleeve showing off the beautiful mermaid tattoo. “Where did she come from?”
“You carved that into your skin Mr. Gill.”
“You’re wrong. I can’t draw.”
“Take it up with doc tomorrow.” The little window slammed shut.
A fog horn blew in the distance, “AHOY!”
Poetry & More 