The Answer (A Short Story)

(*Note: This was a short story I wrote for a challenge/contest thing on a different website. The challenge was this: We were given a picture -which is the picture I have included into this hub- and were told to write a short story of any kind, based off of the picture. It had to begin with the line "We found the boat in late afternoon," it had to be based on the picture, and it had to be under 400 words. The rest of it, we had complete creative license over. This is what I came up with.)

We found the boat in late afternoon. The blue and yellow paint on the boat was chipping from the bright red suns beating down on us.

I had traveled for hours. Months. Years. Centuries. All for this.

"Andran, what do we do now?" My companion saw the way I shook, the way my face was contorted. I could feel the Rage seeping through my veins, white-hot and dangerous.

"Rae, come closer." I waggled my finger at my young companion, urging him to come closer. He did so warily, not liking the look in my eyes.

Rae had become privy not only to my condition with the Rage, but to my obsession with finding the Answer- fabled to either cure the Rage... or enable it to flourish.

The boy had learned to bite his tongue when he recognized the crazed look in my eyes and the trembling that started in my core. Though he never voiced his thoughts, I knew all of this.

He was close enough that I could smell his sweat, his fear, his exhaustion. I uncurled my finger, let it brush against his skin. He shivered as I ran my talon across his collarbone. "You're going to go in there and see if you can find the Answer for me. Yes?"

My companion nodded silently, retreated from me towards the boat. He hauled his lanky frame up onto the deck and looked around. I stood next to the damned blue and yellow chunk of wood, waiting. Rae stepped lightly across the creaky wood as he searched for the vial.

"I think I found it!" He whispered as he ran towards a bottle, glinting in the light. Right as he wrapped his hand around the little vial, he fell. The wood had snapped under his feet.

"Toss it to me, Rae!" I called.

"Help me!" He shrieked. I could smell the blood flowing from his wound from where I stood.

"I will," I promised. "Toss me the vial!" He did as I asked, and I caught it in one hand raised above my head.

And with a smirk and a kiss in his direction, I walked away.