The Atlantic ocean — Genevieve Alden sat stone-faced, her aqua blue eyes staring straight ahead. Her blonde hair, usually swept into an elaborate up-do, hung loose in frozen clumps.

The warm tones of dawn greeted her and her fellow passengers, but she didn’t relish in the beauty. None of them did, from the looks of it.

After all, why should they? They had all been through a horror they couldn’t have imagined when they had set out to sea just a few days ago.

Curse her rash-headed decision. She should have stayed in England and waited for Miles to return from his emergency trip to the United States instead of booking passage.

What a fine honeymoon this had turned out to be.

“A ship!”

The shout startled her. One hand went to grip the side of the lifeboat while the other gripped the edge of the seat. It felt like an eternity before they finally came alongside a ship that was considerably smaller than the one that now lay on the bottom of the ocean.

She shut her eyes. She would never forget last night. Never forget the groans as it went under, never forget the screams of those lost.

She barely caught sight of the ship’s name as she was hoisted up and onto the deck. A blanket dropped onto her shoulders, sympathetic glances were thrown her way, a mug of something hot pressed into her hands.

The Carpathia sailed onward.

©2021 H.S. Kylian

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