There are stories that cling to the edges of reality, rumors whispered in bars by old sailors with trembling hands and distant eyes. Stories of ships that drift into the harbor with no crew, no signs of struggle… just eerie silence. But until last week, I thought they were just that… stories.
The Nautica appeared in the mist on a quiet Tuesday morning. No distress signals, and no records of departure. A 70-year-old cargo vessel, long thought scrapped just… appeared. It was found adrift off the coast, slowly floating toward the docks with not a soul on board. No crew. No captain. Nothing.
Naturally, the news caught my attention. As a freelance journalist, I made a living chasing down stories that could make people question their understanding of the world. And this? This was exactly the kind of mystery I thrived on.
I packed a bag and headed out to the docks, flashing my credentials to get past the growing crowd of onlookers. The police had cordoned off the ship, but even they seemed hesitant to go on board. I overheard two officers talking, their voices low as if the ship itself could hear them.
Their conversation was as follows…
They sent a team last night
They were supposed to radio back once they checked below deck but we never heard from them again.
No sign of a struggle… no bodies… They were just gone.
They think it’s another Mary Celeste thing… Maybe we should just let it drift back out to sea.
I felt a chill as I approached the Nautica. Even in the daylight, something felt wrong. The hull was rusted, the metal groaning softly as it swayed in the water, but it was more than just the age of the ship. There was a presence about it like the ship was watching… Waiting.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed. As I boarded, a few dockworkers crossed themselves, muttering superstitious warnings. One of them, an older man with grizzled features, stopped me.
You’re going on that thing?
You know about the crew, right?”
I nodded.
Vanished, right? Like the Mary Celeste?
His eyes darkened a bit but he continued.
Not just vanished…
There’s something else…
Word is, they found a logbook…
entries from the captain…
It wasn’t just the crew disappearing…
They were hearing things…
They heard voices…
Sounds that don’t belong on a ship like this.
I paused, my curiosity piqued.
“What kind of sounds?”
The man hesitated, then leaned in close.
“The kind that makes you wish you hadn’t heard them.”
That was enough for me. I thanked him and made my way up the gangplank. As my feet touched the deck, I could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on me. The creaking of the ship was the only sound, but even that felt wrong… like the ship was groaning under some unseen burden.
I moved toward the bridge first, wanting to get a look at the logbook the dockworker mentioned. The door to the bridge was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open with a creak. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, caught in the gray light filtering through the grime-covered windows. The captain’s chair sat empty, facing the sea like a sentinel.
The logbook was on the desk, its leather cover cracked and worn. I flipped through the pages, scanning entries about mundane ship operations and maintenance… until I hit the last few.
October 7th, 1949
Something is wrong. The men hear noises at night… soft voices, whispers just below the deck. I dismissed it at first, thinking it was just the sound of the water or the ship settling, but last night… I heard it too.
October 9th, 1949
The voices are getting louder. I’ve ordered the men to stay above deck at night. No one is to go below deck alone. Some of them are saying the ship is cursed, that we’ve crossed into something we weren’t meant to… Nonsense. But… I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.
October 10th, 1949
Two men are missing… No sign of them anywhere. I don’t know what to do… We’ve searched the entire ship, every inch, but they’re gone. Some of the men want to turn back, but I won’t have it… We push forward.
October 12th, 1949
I’m the last one. They’ve all gone below deck, despite my orders. I can hear them down there. The whispers are louder now. They’re calling my name. I won’t go. I won’t go.
The final entry trailed off, the ink smudged as if the captain’s hand had trembled as he wrote it. I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. The Nautica’s crew hadn’t just disappeared. Something had taken them.
A sudden creak echoed through the bridge, and I froze. The air felt thick, charged with an energy I couldn’t explain. I turned slowly, half-expecting to see someone standing in the doorway. But there was no one.
The ship groaned again, and this time, I swore I heard it… the faintest whisper of my name…
Beckoning.
I backed out of the bridge, my pulse racing. I needed answers, but there was something I knew deep down… whatever had happened to the crew, whatever was calling from below deck, wasn’t done yet.
As I stood there, staring at the rusted metal stairs leading below, the wind seemed to carry that same whisper to my ear again, soft but unmistakable.
“Come… down.”
–
I stood at the top of the stairs, staring into the darkness below. The air was thick, almost suffocating. The same whisper from the bridge echoed in my ears—faint, but unmistakable.
“Come… down.”
The urge to turn around and run was strong, but something held me there. Curiosity? Or maybe something deeper, something darker. I wasn’t just here for a story anymore. I needed to know what happened to the crew.
I took a deep breath and started down the stairs. Each step creaked beneath my weight, the sound of old wood and rusted metal groaning in protest. The further I descended, the colder the air became, as if I were walking into the depths of a forgotten tomb.
At the bottom of the stairs, the ship’s corridors stretched out in both directions, dimly lit by the occasional flicker of a dying lightbulb. The silence was absolute. No sound of the sea, no hum of the ship’s machinery—just oppressive stillness. The kind of silence that feels alive.
I gripped the flashlight tighter in my hand, the beam cutting through the darkness as I started walking. The walls were lined with thick rivets, the floor covered in grime and rust. But something else caught my eye. Faint handprints, smeared in dark red, trailing along the walls as if someone had been dragged.
I felt a shiver crawl up my spine.
The logbook had mentioned the voices. The missing men. The captain refusing to go below deck. I had come here for answers, but now I wasn’t so sure I wanted to find them.
As I turned the corner, I came across the first door. Its surface was scarred with deep gouges, as though someone—or something—had clawed at it desperately. I reached for the handle, hesitating for just a moment before pushing it open.
The room beyond was small, likely one of the crew’s quarters. Bunks were stacked against the wall, the mattresses old and worn, but what caught my attention was the layer of dust covering everything. It wasn’t just dust—it was thick, undisturbed, as if no one had stepped foot in this room for decades. But that didn’t make sense. The ship had disappeared in 1949. How could the dust be so thick, so untouched?
Something moved in the corner of my vision, just a shadow, but enough to make my heart skip a beat. I swung the flashlight in its direction, but there was nothing there. Just the bare metal walls.
That’s when the whispering started again. This time, it wasn’t just my name.
“Why… are you… here?”
The voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it was close. Too close.
I backed out of the room, my heart hammering in my chest. The corridors seemed longer now, darker, as if the ship itself were closing in on me. The handprints on the walls seemed fresher, the dark stains more vivid. I could feel eyes on me, watching from the shadows.
I had to keep moving.
I passed more doors, all sealed shut, some with deep scratches and dents. The air felt heavier with each step I took, the temperature dropping with every passing minute. I kept telling myself it was just an old ship, abandoned and forgotten, but there was a part of me—deep down—that knew better.
Something was here.
Another door stood slightly ajar at the end of the corridor, and I felt a pull toward it. I stepped inside and found what looked like a mess hall. Tables and chairs were overturned, as though there had been some kind of struggle. Plates, still half-filled with food, sat undisturbed on the tables, now long covered in mold.
But that wasn’t what sent the chill down my spine.
The chairs. They weren’t just overturned randomly. They were arranged… deliberately. In a circle.
And sitting in those chairs were shadows. I blinked, and the shadows were gone, but the impression of them lingered. As if, for just a moment, I had seen something… someone.
The whispering grew louder.
“They took us… they took us…”
I spun around, the flashlight beam slicing through the room, but no one was there. The ship groaned around me, metal straining under the weight of something unseen, something pressing down on the very walls. I needed to leave. Now.
I turned to go, but something caught my eye—a figure, just at the edge of the doorway. It was barely visible in the dim light, but I saw it. Tall. Thin. Watching. It vanished before I could get a closer look, but the air around me grew colder.
I raced back toward the stairs, heart pounding in my chest. I had to get out. I had to get off this ship. As I ran, the whispering followed, growing louder and more frantic.
“They took us… they took us… they took us…”
The voices seemed to echo from the very walls, surrounding me, pulling at me. I reached the bottom of the stairs, breathless, and turned to look back one last time.
That’s when I saw them.
Silhouettes. Figures moving in the dark, just beyond the reach of my flashlight. They were watching me, dozens of them, shifting in the shadows. The crew. The missing men. I could feel their eyes on me, cold and hollow.
I scrambled up the stairs, nearly tripping in my haste. As I reached the deck, the whispering stopped, replaced by the low groan of the ship, as if it had let out a sigh of relief.
I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.
As I reached the dock, panting and shaken, I looked at the Nautica one last time. The ship was silent again, but I knew what I had seen. What I had heard.
And I knew one thing for certain: whatever had happened to the crew of the Nautica, it wasn’t over.
The ship was still waiting. Watching. Calling.
–
The town felt different when I got back from the Nautica. It was subtle at first—just a feeling, like the world had tilted ever so slightly off balance. I tried to shake it off as I walked home, my head still buzzing from the encounter on the ship. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, what had happened, but I didn’t know where to begin. Would they even believe me?
The ship’s hold, the voices, those… figures.
I sat on my bed, staring at my phone, wondering if I should call someone—maybe a colleague who could help me dig deeper. But my hands trembled as I held the phone, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the last thing I saw: those shadowy figures moving in the dark, watching me, almost daring me to come back.
I didn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the whispers. “They took us… they took us…” The voice was like a low hiss in my ear, never fading. I would snap my eyes open and stare into the darkness of my bedroom, expecting to see the shadows creeping toward me. But it was just me. Alone.
At least, I thought I was alone.
The next morning, I decided to head back to the docks. Not to the Nautica—I wasn’t ready to face that nightmare again—but to see if there were any new developments. Maybe the authorities had decided to do another sweep of the ship, or maybe more reports had surfaced about its cursed return.
When I got there, I noticed something strange. The fog. It had rolled in overnight, thick and gray, choking the town like a blanket of smoke. I couldn’t even see the end of the street from where I stood. The dockworkers moved like ghosts, their figures barely visible through the mist.
The Nautica was still anchored, looming in the fog like a forgotten monolith. It looked different in the daylight—less menacing, almost benign—but the weight of what I had experienced still hung heavy in the air. As I stood there, I felt it again. That tug. That pull.
Something wanted me to come back.
I turned away, trying to push the urge down, but as I walked through the fog, I noticed it again. The feeling of being watched. At first, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. The fog has a way of making you feel claustrophobic, as though it’s pressing in on all sides. But this wasn’t just a trick of the mind. I could feel eyes on me.
I glanced behind me—nothing but swirling mist.
I kept walking, my heart picking up speed as the feeling grew stronger. Every few steps, I would glance back, expecting to see someone—or something—following me, but the street remained empty. The only sound was the distant creak of the docks and the faint hum of the water lapping against the shore.
It wasn’t until I reached the edge of town that I saw it. A shadow. It stood at the corner of the street, barely visible through the fog, just watching. My breath caught in my throat as I froze, staring at the figure. It didn’t move. It didn’t come closer. It just… stood there.
I blinked, and it was gone.
I rubbed my eyes, convinced that I was imagining things. Lack of sleep, stress, fear—it was messing with my head. But as I turned the corner to my street, I saw another one. A figure standing at the edge of my driveway, shrouded in fog, staring at my house.
And then, like before, it vanished.
By the time I got inside, my heart was racing. I locked the door behind me, peering out through the window, but the fog had swallowed everything. I couldn’t see the street, let alone any figures.
I sat on the couch, trying to calm myself down. I needed to get a grip. The ship had gotten under my skin, and now I was seeing things. Ghosts. Shadows. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
But then, there was a knock at the door.
I jumped, my pulse skyrocketing as I stood up. My hand hovered over the doorknob, but I didn’t open it. Instead, I pressed my ear to the wood, listening. Nothing. Just silence. I waited, holding my breath, wondering if I had imagined the knock as well.
But then it came again. Slow. Deliberate.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I swung the door open, my heart in my throat—but no one was there. Just fog. Thick and endless.
I shut the door, locking it again, my mind racing. Something was happening. Something had followed me back from the Nautica. The ship hadn’t let me go. Not really.
That night, the dreams started.
I found myself back on the Nautica, standing at the bottom of the stairs, the metal walls groaning all around me. The air was thick with whispers, the same voices calling from the shadows. “They took us… they took us…”
I tried to move, but my feet felt like they were stuck to the floor. I was frozen, staring into the darkness, as the figures began to emerge. One by one, they stepped out of the shadows. Their faces were hollow, their eyes black pits of nothingness, and their skin hung loosely from their bones as if they had been drained of life long ago. They reached out to me, their fingers gnarled and bony, beckoning me to join them.
I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. The clock read 3:33 AM. I was drenched, my heart hammering in my chest, the sound of their voices still echoing in my ears.
But the worst part? The fog had seeped into my room.
At first, I thought I was still dreaming, but no. It was real. Thick tendrils of mist curled around the edges of my window, sliding through the small gap at the frame. I could feel the cold dampness of it on my skin.
I jumped out of bed, rushing to shut the window completely. As I pressed the frame down, I glanced outside—and that’s when I saw them.
Figures. Dozens of them. Standing in the street, barely visible through the fog, their hollow eyes fixed on my house. On me.
I stumbled back from the window, my breath catching in my throat. I wanted to scream, to run, but I couldn’t move. The fog pressed in on all sides, choking the air from the room. And the whispering—God, the whispering was louder now.
“They took us… they took us… you’re next.”
I couldn’t stay here. I had to leave. I had to get away from whatever was happening. But as I moved toward the door, I realized something that made my blood run cold.
The fog wasn’t just outside. It was inside, too.
And the figures? They were getting closer.
–
I could feel it moving inside the house, seeping through the cracks in the windows, crawling along the walls like something sentient. My breath caught in my throat as I stood frozen in the doorway of my bedroom, staring at the shifting tendrils of mist that curled and coiled around me.
The figures outside were getting closer, their hollow faces barely visible through the fog that had swallowed the entire street. I could hear them now—whispers that scraped against my brain like nails on a chalkboard.
“They took us… they took us… you’re next.”
I had to get out of here.
Grabbing my coat, I bolted for the front door, throwing it open without thinking. The fog outside was thick, almost solid, but I didn’t care. I ran, plunging headfirst into the mist, my heart pounding in my chest. The cold dampness of the air clung to my skin, making it feel like I was moving through water.
The figures were everywhere—shadows lurking just beyond my vision, always one step behind, always watching. I could feel their presence pressing in on me, pulling me deeper into the fog.
But I kept running. I didn’t know where I was going—just that I had to get away. Away from the house, away from the ship, away from the suffocating presence that was dragging me back into the dark.
I don’t know how long I ran before I realized I had made it to the docks.
The Nautica loomed in the fog, its rusted hull barely visible against the backdrop of swirling mist. I stared at it, gasping for breath, my heart racing in my chest. The ship stood there like a monument to everything that had gone wrong. The voices were louder now, the whispers mixing with the creaking of the ship, like the very metal was speaking to me.
“They took us… they took us…”
I should have kept running. I should have turned around and left this cursed place behind. But something held me there—something stronger than fear. I needed answers. The ship had called me back, and I was powerless to resist.
I stepped onto the gangplank, my footsteps echoing through the still air. The fog seemed to part as I approached the ship, like it was inviting me in. The moment I set foot on the deck, I felt the weight of the ship press down on me again, the same crushing silence that had haunted me since my first visit.
I wasn’t alone.
The figures were here too, lurking in the corners of my vision, always just out of reach. I could feel their eyes on me, cold and hollow, but they never moved. They just… waited.
I made my way to the stairs that led below deck. My hand hovered over the railing, hesitating for a moment. I had barely escaped last time. But now… I didn’t have a choice. Something was down there. Something that held the answers I was looking for.
The voices grew louder as I descended, their whispers swirling around me, wrapping me in a suffocating cocoon of sound. “They took us… they took us…”
I reached the bottom of the stairs, the cold metal floor groaning beneath my feet. The corridors were darker than before, the lights flickering overhead like they were struggling to stay alive. The air felt thick and oppressive, like it was pressing down on me from all sides.
And then I saw it.
At the end of the corridor, a door stood slightly ajar. I hadn’t seen it before on my last visit. It looked old, older than the rest of the ship. The metal was corroded, rusted in places, but there was something else—something strange. Symbols. Etched into the surface of the door. Symbols I didn’t recognize.
My heart raced as I approached it, my breath shallow. I could feel something behind the door, something ancient, something that didn’t belong in this world.
I pushed the door open.
The room beyond was vast. Far too vast to fit inside the ship. It was like I had stepped into another world. The walls stretched impossibly high, curving upward into an endless black void. The air was cold, far colder than it had been in the corridors.
And in the center of the room stood… a gateway.
It was a massive archway, carved from the same dark metal as the ship, but it shimmered with an unnatural light. The symbols I had seen on the door were etched into the frame of the arch, glowing faintly. And beyond the archway… was nothing. Just a swirling void of darkness, shifting and roiling like a storm that had no beginning and no end.
I took a step forward, drawn to the gateway like a moth to a flame. The whispers were louder now, coming from the arch itself, the voices rising in a cacophony of sound that made my head throb.
“They took us… they took us… to the other side.”
I realized, with a sickening clarity, what had happened to the crew of the Nautica. They hadn’t disappeared. They hadn’t been lost at sea.
They had been taken. Taken through the gateway. To the other side.
But what was the other side? Another world? Another dimension? Something worse?
I stepped closer to the arch, my hands trembling. I could feel the pull of the void, like it was reaching out to me, beckoning me to step through. The darkness beyond the arch swirled and shifted, and for a moment, I thought I saw something moving within it. Something vast. Something alive.
I backed away, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed to leave. I needed to get out of here before it was too late.
But as I turned to go, I felt the temperature drop even further. The air around me seemed to freeze, and the whispers stopped. The silence that followed was deafening.
And then… I felt it. A presence. Standing behind me.
I turned slowly, my breath catching in my throat.
The figures. The crew. They were there. Standing in the shadows of the room, their hollow eyes fixed on me. But they weren’t like the shadows I had seen before. They were real. Their skin was pale, almost translucent, and their faces were twisted in agony, mouths open in silent screams. Their eyes were empty voids, black and lifeless.
And they were moving toward me.
I stumbled back, my heart racing, but there was nowhere to go. The gateway loomed behind me, the swirling darkness calling to me, and the crew in front of me, closing in.
I was trapped.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out. The crew reached for me, their cold, bony fingers brushing against my skin, pulling me toward them. I struggled, but it was no use. They were too strong.
And then, from the darkness of the archway, I heard it.
A voice. Not a whisper this time. A voice so deep, so powerful, it made the walls of the ship tremble.
“You… are not supposed to be here.”
I felt a sharp pain in my chest, and the world around me began to blur. My vision darkened, the shadows of the crew closing in, and the last thing I saw was the swirling void of the gateway, reaching out for me.
–
Darkness consumed everything. For a moment, I thought I was dead, trapped in the cold void between life and whatever lay beyond. The voice from the gateway echoed in my mind, the deep, thunderous rumble vibrating in my chest: “You… are not supposed to be here.”
I opened my eyes. The figures—those twisted remains of the crew—were still around me, their hollow eyes locked on mine. But they had stopped moving, frozen in place like statues. The room was eerily silent. Even the gateway, with its swirling void, had stilled.
Something had changed.
I gasped for air, my heart pounding in my ears. The pain in my chest was overwhelming, as if an invisible hand was squeezing the life out of me. I stumbled back, desperate to escape, but the gateway was still behind me, radiating cold, pulling me closer.
I glanced back at the figures, trying to gather myself, and that’s when I saw it—something had shifted in their expressions. It wasn’t just the blank stares or the agony frozen on their faces. No. They were afraid. Afraid of what was on the other side of the gateway.
I had to get out.
I turned toward the door I had come through, but the way out was gone. The room stretched infinitely, a cavernous abyss with no walls, no ceiling. The only constant was the gateway, looming behind me like an ancient monument. Its presence felt… alive.
The whispers started again, louder this time. “They took us… they took us…” The voices were rising, surrounding me, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The figures began to move again, slowly, their bony fingers reaching toward me, their mouths opening in silent screams.
My body felt heavy, like something was pulling me down. The cold intensified as I struggled to stay on my feet. My head was spinning, the room warping around me. I couldn’t breathe. The shadows of the crew closed in, the air thick with the smell of decay, their cold hands gripping my arms, my shoulders.
And then, the voice from the gateway returned, louder and more menacing than before.
“Step through…”
I froze. I understood now. The gateway wasn’t just a passage—it was a trap. The crew hadn’t vanished by accident; they had been taken by whatever existed on the other side. And now, it wanted me.
I looked back at the void within the archway, feeling its pull like a magnetic force dragging me closer. I could almost see something in there, shapes moving in the darkness, flickering like distant stars. The crew’s voices mingled with the deeper voice of the gateway, forming an unbearable chorus.
“They took us… you are next… step through…”
I tried to resist, but it was as if my body was no longer mine. My feet moved on their own, inching closer to the arch. The fog, the darkness, the ship itself seemed to fade away as I stared into the swirling void. My mind screamed at me to stop, to turn back, to run—but it was too late.
The closer I got to the gateway, the more I felt it. A presence. Something vast, ancient, and aware. It was watching me. Waiting.
I reached out, my fingers trembling as they brushed against the cold surface of the archway. The instant I touched it, the world exploded into light and sound. My mind was flooded with images—memories, visions, things that weren’t mine. I saw the crew, the moment they had first discovered the gateway, how they had been drawn in, unable to resist. I saw their terror, their confusion, as they were pulled into the void, never to return.
And then I saw something else. Something darker.
The gateway wasn’t just a portal—it was a living thing. It fed on the souls of those who crossed into its realm, trapping them in an endless cycle of torment. The crew wasn’t dead, not really. They were still there, somewhere on the other side, lost in the darkness, consumed by whatever force lived beyond the gate.
It wanted me to join them.
With a sudden burst of strength, I yanked my hand away from the arch. The cold grip of the crew released me, and I stumbled back, gasping for air. The figures, still surrounding me, seemed to flicker, their forms blurring in and out of existence. The whispers were deafening now, a chaotic swirl of voices and screams that made it impossible to think.
The gateway pulsed, the darkness within it shifting, alive.
I had to destroy it.
I wasn’t sure how, but I knew the gateway couldn’t remain open. If I didn’t stop it, more people would be taken. I scrambled to my feet, my mind racing. There had to be something, some way to close the portal and stop the nightmare.
And then I remembered the symbols.
The symbols etched into the door, the walls, the archway itself. They were the key. I didn’t know how I knew, but I was certain. The symbols had been placed there to keep the gateway sealed, to keep whatever was on the other side from crossing over. But something had gone wrong, and the gate had opened.
I raced back to the arch, ignoring the freezing cold that radiated from it. I reached out, tracing the glowing symbols with my fingers, feeling the energy pulsing beneath them. My hand moved on instinct, drawing lines, connecting symbols, completing patterns that I hadn’t seen before. The air around me seemed to hum with power, the ground beneath my feet trembling as I worked.
The crew’s voices grew frantic, the figures closing in on me once more. I could feel their desperation, their fear. They didn’t want me to close the gate. They needed it open. They needed me to fail.
But I wouldn’t.
With one final stroke, I completed the last symbol. The air around me exploded with light, a blinding flash that sent me sprawling to the ground. I covered my eyes, the force of the blast rattling through my bones. The ship groaned, the walls shaking as if the very fabric of reality was tearing apart.
And then, silence.
When I opened my eyes, the gateway was gone.
The arch still stood, but the swirling void within it had vanished, leaving nothing but cold, empty metal. The figures were gone too. The crew, the shadows, the whispers—they had all disappeared, as if they had never been there at all.
I stood up, my legs trembling beneath me. The room was still vast, still impossibly large, but it was empty now. The oppressive weight that had filled the air was gone.
It was over.
I stumbled toward the door, my body aching, my mind still reeling from what I had seen. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I just wanted to leave, to forget everything that had happened.
As I stepped back onto the deck of the Nautica, the fog had cleared. The air was crisp, the sky above a dull gray, but it felt… normal. Real. The oppressive weight, the supernatural pull of the ship—it was all gone.
But as I walked down the gangplank, something stopped me.
A whisper. Faint, almost too quiet to hear.
“They took us…”
I froze, my blood running cold.
“They took us… and we took you.”
I turned, staring back at the ship, the cold metal gleaming in the dull light. For a moment, I thought I saw them again. The figures. The crew. Watching from the shadows.
And then, they were gone.
I walked away, leaving the Nautica behind me, the whispers still echoing in my ears.