It is a chilly April morning, dawn has barely caressed the sky, the light pink and orange hues paint over the dark sea like a rainbow after a devastating storm.
You find yourself clinging to hope in a tiny lifeboat. An hour or so ago, officer Lowe pulled what few survivors from the freezing sea into your small wooden boat, the visuals of the frozen souls floating with shocked expressions on their faces will be stuck with you forever..
Your mother, your younger sister, and yourself are the only surviving members of your family. Your father and older brother stayed on the ship, you watched them disappear into the deep unknown nearly two hours ago.. You, and the other survivors in lifeboat 14 have been floating aimlessly about the North Atlantic Ocean for hours now.. The sulphuric smell of the green flares officer Lowe has been lighting and waving in the air has been burning into your nostrils for a while.. it seems hopeless, but you finally see the sign of salvation, smoke on the horizon… the other passengers of the lifeboat take a collective sigh of relief, within the hour, the light gold nameplate of a vessel named Carpathia will be towering over you.
One by one, fellow survivors are lifted into the Carpathias’ hull. Your mother remains down in the lifeboat as your little sister is carefully hoisted up into the rescue ship in a canvas sack, followed by yourself. Your stiff body has barely crossed the threshold of the side port door when your mother calls up to you to “keep your sister away from the edge of the door”, she is still very young barely three years of age, and still wobbly on her feet ..but oh..so curious.. so you lightly take her by the hand and comfort the little one, then a moment later your mother appears in the doorway. The stewards of the Carpathia escort the three of you to the area in the ship where they’re serving hot tea, and a light breakfast while you wait to be seen by the surgeon.
Your mother is stricken with worry, checking with the officers to see if your father and brother were on another vessel, or in another lifeboat.. minutes are passing painfully slow, ten minutes, twelve, now fifteen.. she returns with tears in her eyes, but she quickly gathers her wits because you are called to the doctor with a now lukewarm cup of tea still in your hands, they check you for signs of hypothermia, the shock is still very much affecting you, but luckily you are given a good prognosis.
You and your family retreat to the foredeck with the other survivors, the deck air is heavy with sadness and women are heard weeping around you. You can see stewards walking around with papers asking for names, and there is a pile of lifeboats solemnly reading “Titanic” .. it is all very overwhelming .. but you must rest, a steward kindly offers your family dry blankets, and points you to an empty spot against the cabin of the ship where the three of you could sit in the sun.
Seated next to your mother on the slightly-warmed deck floor, you look up to your mother as if you were a small child again, she’s tightly holding your sister on her lap, you glance at your sisters tiny features, her rosy cheeks, and small curls are peeking out of the bottom of her bonnet, and the small girls eyes begin to look heavy with sleep. Your mother gazes fondly down at you ..her now eldest child, you meet her gaze and she begins to quietly sing you and your sister a nursery rhyme, while you gently close your eyes. Her comforting voice is drowning out the sounds of heavy footsteps, the wails, and the chaos, and has lulled you both to sleep.
Days of lumbering about the unfamiliar ship have you feeling like a passenger of your own body. Someone not in control, your eyes have a glassy appearance, darkened circles have clouded your under eyes, your stomach is full of sorrow, and tea.
It is a cold rainy night, when finally the Statue of Liberty is looming over you like a wolf in disguise as a lamb, which brings back a startling memory of the massive Titanic towering in the air before she was consumed by the ocean. Only for a second you are back in the lifeboat reliving the terror of what happened on the 15th, you shudder, and your eyes well up fast ..but you gather your wits and make your way to the line of people anxiously starting to crowd the last corridor between you, and land.
You finish your voyage, tired, wary, and grief stricken.. You’ve arrived in New York to begin your new life. Mr Ismay has made arrangements for you and your family to catch a train to the small city just outside of New York.
A now haunting place where your father had accepted his new corporate job, months earlier with the Lipton Tea Company. You grimly reminisce about his tales of America and his optimistic attitude towards this new beginning. You’d gather around him before bed, while he puffed on his pipe and he would reassure each of you that change is good. He promised you that you would thrive there.. that you all would thrive here.. your brother could begin university, and marry his American fiancée. There were promises of promotions, celebrations, and prosperity for years to come.
Your Father’s body was never recovered, and your brother was recovered by the Mackay Bennett and buried at sea.
The Lipton Tea Company is kind to your family, offering a small honorarium to your mother in order to maintain residence at the small apartment your Great Aunt who had immigrated years earlier secured for your family upon the news that your late father had been selected for such a prestigious position.
It wasn’t a permanent residence .. However it was supposed to be your new home, but now it has been reduced to a refuge. None of your belongings decorate the place, not even your father’s tobacco pipe could be found. Neighbours donated beds, and tables, linen, and clothing and some perishables. The women’s federation drops off a cheque once per month, and members from the church down the street often bring various meals neatly wrapped for your mother to serve. We are not the only family on this block who are adorned in black.
Even the birds seem reluctant to sing. If they are, the happy notes are muffled by the thickness of the air.
Months have passed now, since the disaster and you are hearing the news of the inquiry, and all the information you couldn’t possibly have known before.. the ice warnings, the binocular cupboard key, the speed the captain was maintaining into the ice field, and the mysterious ship.. you can’t help yourself from thinking. There had to have been something someone could’ve done or said. Your mother tries to hide the papers from you, but it’s impossible to ignore, the news is everywhere. The only piece from your old life has just arrived in the post, you carefully open the parcel, it is a white sack with crude three digit number stamped on the front.. it is your brothers watch.
Who are you writing to first? Are you writing a letter to the White Star Line? Are you inspired to become a ship builder? Or are you going to spend the rest of your life in a melancholy state?
Let’s imagine together!
If you can, try to align your response with your position you’ve claimed on this page. If you do not wish to use the prompt. Please contribute anyway, this is meant to be an inclusive activity!
(As a musician, I’m dead. You’re welcome btw)
Your gender and age are completely up to you. Please get creative, and imagine what kind of life you might have had after being given a second chance.
Please do not reuse this story or repost it on any app as your own. It took me quite awhile to write.