Here is a short story that took 2nd place in the first round of the 2023 NYC Short Story Challenge. (I’m currently procrastinating about finishing my round 2 entry!) The contest asked me to write an adventure story that took place offshore and involved an imposter. Here is what I came up with- enjoy!

The Buoy’s Revenge by Heidi Campbell

Dong! Dong!

The bell buoy bobbed up and down with each swell, slapping the clapper to sound the seaman’s warning. The bell’s toll was a clock, tick-tocking the minutes until she took her last breath. She could almost hear John Donne whispering, “never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

Dong! Dong!

She lost track of the hours (maybe days) she had been clinging to the buoy. It seemed years since his boat vanished beyond the horizon line. She grasped the iron bar like a toddler wrapped around a mother’s leg. As a kid, these buoy’s seemed larger than life. Now, standing on this red and white nautical marker, she wished it were larger. Her feet, prune-like from the waves that crested over the buoy’s platform, hung over the side. Her muscles ached as they flexed and unflexed with the water’s movement.

Dong! Dong!

The ocean met the horizon in all directions; no land could be seen. Her eyes burned from the salt water that continued to spray her face. Her mouth felt like asphalt that hadn’t seen rain for months. Would he come to his senses? Did he have any humanity buried in his devil soul?

Dong! Dong!

For a moment, she thought she saw a shape approaching from the east, but then it was gone. She was probably starting to imagine shapes on the water. Stories and poems had been penned about these hallucinations. She was out on this vast sea completely alone. There was no one to hear her screams, which her throat would no longer allow. Only one person knew where she was. Her entire destiny lay in the hands of an imposter.

Dong! Dong!

The sun had very little time left before it would dip below the horizon. Fear, that thief of all comfort, began to lurk closer and closer to the surface of her mind. Why had she confronted him? How could she have been so careless? She was blindsided- by this man she thought she knew. Oh, how he fooled the world. “He was so good,” she thought to herself, bitterly.

Dong! Dong!

Her need to scan the horizon made her feel neurotic. She continued to “think” she saw something, but nothing ever materialized. She saw nothing, and only heard the sounds of the bell and the waves. Her imagination gave way to more and more frequent hallucinations. She didn’t fight them; she might rather have a life imagined than what hers had become. Would she even have a life? Was this the end?

Dong! Dong!

She wondered where he was now. Did he just go home and pour himself a scotch? People would want to know what happened to her. They would ask. What would he say? He would claim ignorance. Of course, no one would ever suspect him. He was so good. He was a genius, really. He fooled everyone. How many times had he done this before? Enough to have the nice cars, the boat, the house on the sound…

Dong! Dong!

Half of the sun lingered on the horizon, reminding her that she would soon be left blind to her surroundings. Blind like the wife who didn’t know her husband was a cruel, evil, vile man. Blind to a man who stole more than monetary treasures; he stole people’s lives.

Dong! Dong!

She had never been more thirsty. The dryness snaked its way from her tongue down her esophagus. She dreaded swallowing. It felt as though each breath dried out her insides farther and farther down her internal pipes.

Dong! Dong!

The sun was gone. She could see stars dotting the darker parts of the sky, and she wanted to scream. No one would know who he really was. He planned this so well, and so quickly- truly a deviant mind. She would eventually fall off this bell buoy and the sharks wouldn’t leave a trace of her. He was getting away with this. He would pretend to mourn her loss as he sipped vintage wines from the family cellar, and there was nothing she could do.

Dong! Dong!

Her anger was building with every toll of the nautical bell. She ran her hand along the metal post that secured the bell’s tower, trying to find a new grip. Her finger jammed into something sharp; she pulled it away immediately as if she’d been stung. She instinctively put her finger in her mouth; the warm blood was like the finest ambrosia. She let the blood swish in her mouth, and swallowed it. She wondered how much of her own blood she could drink from that finger?

Dong! Dong!

Something had stabbed her. There was a piece of sharp metal on that bar. What could she do with that tool?  Her mind was cloudy, and she struggled to maintain consistent thoughts. Her feet ached. The motion of the waves had wreaked havoc on her stomach; she had vomited everything in her system hours ago. Dry heaving was all she could do in response to the motion sickness.

Dong! Dong!

Maybe she could get that sharp piece of metal free and use it to slice one of her veins. She wondered if a human could survive on their own blood? She moved her fingers slowly back up to the spot where the sharp metal was. The protruding metal felt like a thick, metal thorn. She was able to pry her finger in between the post and the metal piece, and it moved. She feverishly worked her finger against the scrap again and again, causing it to bow out. Finally, with it secured between her fingers, she snapped it from the post, and held it in her hand.

Dong! Dong!

She squeezed this tiny new weapon and closed her eyes. Her first thought was that she should simply slit her wrists and put an end to this torture. The fire in her, however, provided her with a better plan. She closed her eyes and envisioned her final words, words she would scrape into the bell buoy for someone to find. Someday. He would pay.

Dong! Dong!

Somehow, she hung on another night, in and out of consciousness. The metal pick was lodged in her mouth between her two back teeth so that she wouldn’t drop it. The sun peeked at the earth with brightness from the east, and she could see again. She had spent the night detailing her plan in her mind. Now that she could see, she would begin.

Dong! Dong!

She lowered herself carefully to a crouched position near the flattest surface of the buoy. Her knees felt stiff and her body was rocked with tremors that nearly knocked her from the base. She removed the metal pick from her teeth, and began to chisel her message. Her hands shook as the metal scraped into the metal. She went over each letter, making the marks deep. Permanent. Someone would read this.

Dong! Dong!

The sun was beginning its descent over the western hemisphere when she finally finished carving her message. The work of carving the letters into the metal took her mind away from her situation. Her hands were raw. Her legs could barely move. Her face felt like a leather mask. She stretched her burning legs and adjusted her hold. She would spend the night imagining his face when they surrounded him. Thoughts of her quiet revenge got her through the darkness.

Dong! Dong!

The salt around her eyes was so thick, she could barely blink. Her arms could no longer bend. Her neck refused pleas from her head to pivot in any direction. She knew that her time was nearly up. She wanted it to be over. Her body was inflamed, raging furiously against her lack of attention to its needs. She would take care of it now. She reached in her mouth and pulled out the pick. With shaking hands, she pushed the sharp tip into the veins of her wrist and pulled. Pain shot up her arms, through her shoulder, down through her back, and into her legs. The cut was deep. Blood poured out of the line. She watched the blood drip to the platform and pool by her feet.

Dong! Dong!

She couldn’t hold the pole anymore. Her hand dropped. Dizziness overcame her and she felt her whole body shaking. One leg slipped from the platform, and she began to fall. She caught her body, now partially submerged, and held fast to the base. Was she ready to let go? She wanted someone to answer that. Then she heard a far-off roaring sound. She tried to hoist her body back up to the platform, but she was too weak. She tried to look to the horizon, in the direction of that glorious sound, but she was too low to see above the waves.

Dong! Dong!

The roaring was getting closer, yet it sounded muffled to her ears, which were now filling with water. She couldn’t keep her body up for much longer. She was falling away from the buoy’s platform. Her muscles couldn’t move. Her joints ached. And she could barely swallow. The sound was coming closer. Someone would find her. She had to hang on. Help was close.

Dong! Dong!    

The commercial fishing boat approached the bell buoy slowly, currents swirling as the engine halted in neutral. “Is that a person?” yelled the fishermen, dressed in a yellow slicker.

“It can’t be!” responded the captain, Dave, steering the boat up next to the side of the bell buoy.

“Damn! It is!” yelled Hank. The buoy bobbed next to the boat’s huge side wall. He threw a giant rope around the marker, and secured it to the boat’s cleat. He jumped to the bow and leaned his body over, reaching for her arm. He pulled her close to the boat, and with Captain Dave’s assistance, they pulled her on deck. They laid her flat across the bow of the boat. Her skin was gray, cold, and wrinkled.

“Go grab a blanket!” barked Dave.

Dong! Dong!

The captain felt her neck for a pulse. He thought he felt a slight movement under his fingers. “Hank! She needs CPR!” he yelled to the man who had pulled her from the sea. “You start. I’m going to get this called in.”

Hank began his quick compressions on her chest. Suddenly, she coughed. Her cough revealed the piece of metal protruding from her lips. She felt him pull the metal stick from her tooth, where it was still safely lodged. That little stick packed so much power. It was the tool that would lead to his condemnation.

Dong! Dong!

Her eyes cracked open halfway. She looked at the face above hers. Her savior!

“Please get him!” she tried to say, but her words came out in gasps that weren’t recognizable. She tried to raise her hand and point towards the message she had scrawled on the buoy, but she didn’t know which way to point and her arm wouldn’t move.

“Don’t try to talk,” Hank said. “Just breathe.”

Dong! Dong!

She could hear the man reporting their location across the CB radio waves, but he sounded far from her. She suddenly felt as though she were drifting away, and her brain panicked. She had to make sure that they read her message. She tried to raise her hand to point, but it was too heavy. She tried to talk, but only a barely audible “hmmmph” came out.

“They’re sending a chopper stat,” said Captain Dave .

“She had this lodged in her tooth,” Hank said, with inquiry in his voice. He held the stick out to Dan who took it and looked at it closely.

Dave looked at the sliver, and then went to the side of the boat to look at the bell buoy.

Dong! Dong!

“Hank! Look at that!” yelled Dave.

They both stared at the side of the giant buoy. Dave reached in his pocket and took out his cell phone. He zoomed as close as he could get to the text that was inscribed.

“This woman has been through hell,” Hank muttered.

She heard those words from far away. She wanted to agree with him, but she had no way of communicating. She was no longer on the bow of the boat. She was floating. The muscles in her body finally felt like they were free to unclench themselves. She felt her jaw loosen from its tight hold. The fear that had ensnared her was replaced by an inexplicable peace.

Dong! Dong!

Hank’s hand was still on her throat. “I don’t feel a pulse, Dave!” he yelled.

He quickly began compressions again, to revive this woman. She didn’t hear the yelling. She didn’t feel the hot air breathed into her lungs nor the hands pushing on her ribs.

Dong! Dong!

Chop! Chop!

The sound of the chopper neared, nearly obscuring the bell’s song. The CB radio was raucous: static mixed with instructions from the pilot.

A ladder was lowered to the bow and a rescue worker, carrying a defibrillator, made his last attempt to save the woman. She couldn’t feel the machine’s compressions, and they would not restart her heart. She was far from the boat now, enjoying the serenity of a bell that would soon toll for another.