This was it.

Today, Marcus would prove he was the most feared pirate of High Seas Online. His ship, the Bloody Vengeance, closed in on the final boss. Captain O’Connell commanded The Ghost, the most difficult of the seven ships to track down, but after months of relentless hours of gameplay, Marcus had finally done it.

He tapped the menu button on his handheld device and saved his progress. This would be far from easy, and he wanted to ensure he didn’t lose any progress before tackling the hardest quest in the game. Stifling a yawn, he looked at his phone. It was just past 7AM. He’d pulled an all nighter, and the lack of sleep was getting to him.

“Time to finish this,” he muttered, backing out of the menu.

His crew let out a roar, brandishing cutlasses and pistols, eager to board their enemy.

“Blast ‘em with the cannons!” Marcus commanded, raising his cutlass. His crew scrambled to load the cannons and a thunderous boom sent vibrations through his handheld. The mainsail of The Ghost erupted into flames.

Marcus watched with grim satisfaction, mentally calculating the best strategy to board her. His heart pounded as the familiar rush of excitement coursed through him. There were no storms brewing, and no sea monsters showed on the radar. So far, so good.

His phone dinged, but he ignored it. Nothing could distract him now. He had a pirate captain to defeat.

Captain O’Connell emerged atop the quarterdeck of the galleon, brandishing a pistol in each hand. “Blackthorne! Your reputation is bigger than your ship!” She fired off a shot, the metal ball whizzing past Marcus’s head.

“She almost hit me,” he growled. He swung over to the galleon on a rope, his boots thudding onto the deck. His cutlass flashed, parrying the blows of the nearest pirates. Marcus ducked under a swing and rushed past, running straight for Captain O’Connell.

She fired off another shot, narrowly missing him. He continued across the deck, closing the distance. His handheld vibrated violently, and the screen splattered with blood. His blood.

YOU DIED.

The words flashed across the screen momentarily, then the scene panned out and he saw what happened. A cannon ball fired from his own ship had killed him.

“Are you freaking kidding me?”

He tossed the handheld aside and threw himself back against his bed and blinked against the dim light filtering through the blinds of his window. What kind of idiocy was that? His phone went off again. It was his uncle, Tom. With a sigh of frustration, he tapped Accept and answered.

“Marcus! I was wondering why you hadn’t answered.” Tom’s gruff voice came through the speaker.

“Sorry. I was in the middle of a battle.”

“Playing that game again, huh?”

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, feeling a twinge of guilt. He knew Tom worried about his gaming habits.

“Yeah, I almost beat the final boss. Once that’s done, I’ll take a break from the games for a bit.” That was a lie, and Marcus knew it.

“How about you forget about the game for a while and come with me. The repairs on my boat are finished, and I was thinking about a sailing adventure. What do you think about the Bermuda Triangle?”

That gave Marcus pause. The thought of sailing on a real boat excited him, but that meant being disconnected from the internet. His heart sank, knowing he wouldn’t be able play any of his games.

“I don’t know,” he said lamely.

Tom’s sigh crackled through the speaker. “You can’t spend your whole life behind a screen, Marcus. There’s a world of adventure out there. Besides, it’ll be good for you to get out of the house and socialize. It’s been a while since we did something fun together.”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Marcus bit his lip, torn. A chance to get away for a while did sound good, and he could always play his games in offline mode.

“Count me in,” Marcus said. “A trip to the Bermuda Triangle sounds great.”

Tom’s hearty laugh filled Marcus with warmth. “That’s the spirit! We’ll have a grand old time. Pack your bags, we set sail first thing tomorrow.”

Marcus ended the call and gazed at the handheld. His pirate crew would have to wait to take down The Ghost. For now, at least. He packed some clothes and personal items, and slipped his handheld into the bag as well.

The next morning, Marcus lugged his bag up the ramp onto Tom’s sailboat. Tom greeted him with a clap on the back. “It’s good to see you. Ready for the open seas?”

Maybe it was his recent obsession with High Seas Online, but sailing on a boat seemed like a real adventure. It wouldn’t be as exciting as fighting pirates, of course, but it was better than lying around the house all day.

Marcus took a deep breath of the salty air and gazed out at the rolling waves. He nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tom grinned. “Good! Stow your stuff below deck and come back up here.”

Marcus did as his uncle asked, returning topside as Tom steered them out of the marina. The  boat picked up speed, cutting through the swells. Marcus gripped the rails, his heartbeat quickening. There was no turning back now.

As the shoreline receded into the distance, Marcus’s anxiety faded. The sea breeze whipped through his hair, and the sun warmed his face. In that moment, he felt truly free and alive. A laugh bubbled up from inside him.

Tom glanced over, eyes crinkling. “Told you this would be good for you.”

Marcus nodded, a smile lingering on his lips. “You were right.”

He watched the horizon, where the sky seemed to melt into the sea. Somewhere ahead lay the Bermuda Triangle. When he was younger, it seemed there was always something on TV about the place, but as he considered it now, almost no one talked about it anymore. Why was that? Had they solved the mystery it had been shrouded in for so long?

Tom checked the sails and navigation equipment, his face creased in concentration. “The weather is looking good so far, but in these waters, that can change in the blink of an eye.”

Marcus nodded, a knot of nerves and anticipation twisting in his stomach. He tightened his grip on the railing, sea spray misting his face. The sailboat cut through the waves, sails billowing.

As they continued on course, a bank of gray clouds gathered in the distance. The wind picked up, rattling the rigging. The boat tilted and picked up speed. Marcus’s knuckles whitened as he held on to the railing.

Tom frowned at the darkening sky. “Storm’s coming. Batten down the hatches!”

Marcus scrambled to help as the first fat raindrops splattered the deck. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sea churned around them.

The storm descended upon them, rain lashing and wind screaming. Waves crashed over the bow, soaking Marcus to the bone. He struggled against the wind to die down loose equipment as the boat pitched and rolled.

His heart pounding, Marcus made his way back to the helm. Tom wrestled with the wheel, his face set in grim determination. “We’re in for a rough ride!” he shouted over the wind.

Marcus resumed his grip on the railing, panic and exhilaration warring inside him. The Bermuda Triangle was living up to its dangerous mystique, but he and Tom were in this together. He took a deep breath of the salt-sprayed air and steeled himself as they sailed into the heart of the storm.

The wind howled like a banshee, and waves crashed over the deck. Thunder boomed overhead, seeming louder than anything Marcus had heard before. His arms ached from hauling on lines and wrestling with the sails, but with each challenge, his confidence grew. They were holding their own against the storm.

A loud crack split the air, and the main mast groaned and leaned to port, sails fluttering.

“The mast!” Tom yelled. “It’s giving way!”

Marcus didn’t hesitate. He scrambled up the tilting mast, clinging to the rigging. Halfway up, he grabbed the flapping sails and began hauling them in, steadying the mast.

Tom joined him, and together they wrestled the sails under control. The mast groaned but held steady.

Breathless, Marcus gazed out at the churning sea stretching endlessly around them. The storm still raged, but they had survived the worst of it. He felt alive in a way he never had before. The thrill made his virtual world pale in comparison.

Tom clapped him on the back. “You did good, lad! You’re cut out for this life after all.”

Pride swelled in Marcus’s chest. Maybe his uncle had been right. Maybe there was more to life than living behind a screen.

The storm continued, though less powerful than it had been. A mist gathered in the air, obscuring their visibility. Marcus took over steering the boat, his uncle standing beside him. He had a determined gleam in his eye. Tom had always loved adventure, and Marcus was glad he’d pushed him out of his comfort zone. This was turning out to be the voyage of a lifetime.

The mist swirled and thickened, damp tendrils clinging to his skin. An eerie silence settled, muffling the sounds of the sea and storm. The ship seemed frozen in place, adrift in a sea of white.

Tom frowned. “Something’s not right.” His voice sounded oddly muted. “We should be hearing the wind and the waves. But there’s nothing.”

The hairs on the back of Marcus’s neck prickled. An unnatural stillness lay over everything, as if time itself had stopped. The silence was deafening, pressing in on all sides.

A dark shape emerged from the mist off the port bow, a massive ship with tattered black sails. No lights shone from its hull. It glided soundlessly through the fog, as if from another world.

Marcus’s heart leaped into his throat. A ghost ship. The Ghost, from his game High Seas Online. But no, that was impossible.

The ship drifted closer, its weathered boards creaking, and the sailboat sailed forward to meet its fate.