A flash of light. Bright as the sun.

Sandy watched it rocket towards the ocean and disappear into the black with a thunderous splash. And then there was darkness. The stars shined above like needles and the deep rolled beneath.

"What was that, Daddy?" Sandy asked.

"Must have been a shooting star," Tom replied. He held Sandy in his arms and boy was she getting heavy. Five years old. He couldn't believe it.

A shooting star, Sandy thought. My first shooting star.

"You know what happens when you see a shooting star?" Tom asked. "You make a wish."

Sandy nodded. She thought of all the things she wanted. She thought of all the toys and candy. She thought of the great big slide on the ship. She thought of the hall near the stern, where she could dance for as long as she wanted. And then she thought of the darkness. Like ink on paper, it spread across her mind. The deep abyss that surrounded her. It swallowed the shooting star and it would swallow the ship too.

Sandy tightened her grip around Tom's neck and leaned over the edge of the ship to look at the ocean. It was dark. She almost couldn't see it except for the faint reflection of moonlight kissing the tips of each wave. There was something frightening about it. Like looking under your bed in the middle of the night. Keep looking and you might find something. A face. A monster. Stare long enough and it will pull you in.

"Careful Sandy," Tom said, "you don't want to fall in."

Something caught her breath, a cold hand that wrapped its fingers around her lungs. So cold it burned her chest. She couldn't breathe. Sandy pulled herself back and kept her head close to her dad's chest.

They stood on the east side of the transatlantic cruise, slicing through the big blue in the middle of the night. The ship had left Florida the day before and they were en route for Barcelona.

The ship was colossal. The vessel would have towered over the Titanic. It had all the food you could ever need and all the fun you could ever have—a waterpark, rock climbing, and even mini-golf. It was a city that could float. I could live here forever, Sandy thought.

Dozens of other people began gathering, peering out into the endless dark. They leaned over the railing and stared into the waters, searching for a sign of something. The cold spray of choppy waters settled on their cheeks.

"There's Mommy," Tom said. He placed Sandy on the deck and she tottered over. Her feet almost marched, as if afraid she would tip into the ocean if she stood too still.

"There you are," Marilyn said while picking up Sandy. "What happened over there?"

"A shooting star," Sandy said.

"Something came hurling out of the sky. Maybe a meteor." Tom said. "It was big. If it had hit the ship—"

"What's a me-tee-or?" Sandy asked.

"A meteor is a shooting star, honey," Marilyn said.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"I forgot to make a wish," Sandy frowned. "What should I wish for?"

"Don't tell us. Or it won't come true." Marilyn wiggled her nose.

Sandy brought her finger to her mouth and pretended to lock it. She threw the key overboard.

"Oh no, the key!" Tom said.

He pretended to look overboard to see where the key had fallen but found something else instead.

"Marilyn, take a look at this."

Something was floating in the water. In fact, there were many things floating in the water.

"What is that?" Marilyn asked, putting Sandy down.

"Looks like debris," Tom said.

Sandy saw it too, scattered across the surface. The debris bobbed in and out of the water like Tom did when they played Jaws.

"Is that metal? Does metal float?" Marilyn asked.

"I don't think so, but I can barely see," Tom replied. "I don't think it was a meteor, Marilyn. It must have been a plane that came down. It was on fire and crashed right into the water."

"Was anyone on the plane?" Sandy asked.

"I'm not sure," Tom said.

Hundreds of people were now leaning over the railing, trying to put the debris together like a puzzle. Was that a wing? An engine? Was that the hatch?

The ship came to a stop. The wake from the ship calmed and the propellers hushed. It suddenly became very quiet. Sandy could hear her heart pounding in her ears. The water grew still—as if it was holding its breath for what was to come. The waves moved slow and sick, like stomach fluid in the belly of a beast. And then there was screaming.

The crew began running down the deck shouting something incoherent. Sandy was too startled to understand. The ship lights painted their faces in dark shadows, growing more sinister as they ran by. Passengers began to follow them like a swarm of locust.

"I'm going to help," Tom said, disappearing into the crowd.

"Tom!" Marilyn shouted.

Sandy felt that fear again, like looking under her bed at night—except this time her father was being pulled in. Wet pale fingers would reach up from the ocean and drag him in. She needed to make sure he was okay.

"I want to go with Daddy," Sandy said before her feet carried her away.

"No, you stay right here with me," Marilyn said. "Sandy, wait!"

Sandy was swallowed by the mass of people. Her little feet scurried across the deck in the direction her dad went. She threaded her way between frantic legs like a piece of yarn. Her shoes went clop-clop-clop on the wooden surface.

Sandy followed more crew running below deck. She found a group of men hauling a lifeboat back up to the ship. Her dad was among them.

The ocean was angry again. Now that Sandy was closer to the water, it no longer just rolled—it tumbled, it crashed, and it rocked with an unmeasurable force. Rain began coming down sideways. Sandy couldn't tell if it was coming from the sky or the water beneath.

"Easy there," a crewmember said.

The men in the lifeboat were holding onto something. Their uniforms were soaking wet. They tried to adjust their grip but whatever they were holding was limp and sagged further. Was it a fish? Had a shark attacked the boat? Oh no, this is Jaws, thought Sandy.

"You ready? We're going to pass him over."

Tom and the rest of the men reached into the lifeboat and dragged a body out.

"Christ," a woman said before emptying her stomach into the ocean.

The body was in a white suit, the kind a spaceman would wear. His head was missing, the inside of his helmet was painted a dark red. The body's neck was a stump. It looked like a cooked piece of ham, the kind Sandy loved to eat on Thanksgiving.

"Sandy!" Marilyn grabbed her. "Don't you ever do that again." Marilyn looked to the body and then to where the head used to be. "Oh my God."

Tom looked up to see the two of them. "What are you doing here?" He was sweating, eyes wide and panicked.

"Sandy ran after you," Marilyn said. Her eyes went back to the body.

"Get out of here," Tom said.

"Time for bed sweetie," Marilyn said.

"What's wrong with him, Mommy? Where is his head?"

"He fell from a plane. He will be okay." Marilyn held Sandy tight against her chest.

As Marilyn carried her away, Sandy looked back to the spaceman. A puddle of water formed around him and the body was still. Sandy saw something move in his suit. Faint, but it was there.

"Mommy, the man moved."

"He did not honey, he's asleep."

"He moved. I saw it."

"That's enough, we are going to bed now."

Sandy looked back one more time. The body was still. Then she looked to the missing head.

It looks like ham, she thought.