"A Quiet Place" (Lovecraftian Horror)

Wilhemina "Mina" Moore remembered glumly as the last trace of land disappeared over the horizon. She was aboard "The Quiet Place," a massive and ancient steamboat that her father captianed that was used to transport criminally insane prisoners to an island 200 miles off the southern coast of Australia. The only sound on the deck was the lazy slapping of waves against the hull.

"A month. What am I going to do for a whole month!?!" she had thought. Mina was still dizzy from celebrating her 18th birthday in Darwin, and now here she had been sailing with her father, six gaurds, a handful of seamen, and nearly 200 lunatics for a full month! They had hugged the east coast of the continent to deposit their "cargo" 200 miles off the southern coast at one of Australia's best kept secrets, "Donovan Sanitarium". The thought of that place gave her shudders.

Mina slipped inside the navigational area, nodding to the first mate, and back into the crew quarters to her room. Like most things on a former military vessel, it was quite cramped. She looked at herself in the mirror. Wavy strawberry-blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, sparkling blue-green eyes and sensual, hourglass figure of a 1920's starlette greeted her. She grinned, and gently lifted her thin top to admire her nearly perfect D cup breasts; and spun to see her cherry shaped ass through the loose yoga pants she was wearing. She could think of three boys at least that she would love let tear them off with their teeth when they got back to Darwin...

She heard the door creek, and spun with a gasp. "OH! Mina, I"m sorry!" her father said, blushing wildly as he closed the door. "I didn't know you were changing." She rearranged her top quickly, noticed her erect nipples through the thin fabric, and cursed her perverted thoughts as she yanked it off and put on a bikini top.

"Its okay Dad. You can come in." she said in her British accent. Even though she lived and was born in Australia, she had spent her entire school life living with her mother in England, and thus didn't share the local accent any more. Her summers, however, always belonged to her father; and that meant being on this run-down, rusty boat transporting crazies.

Her father entered the room, his eyes still averted even though she was dangling a beach towel over her shoulders to further obscure her chest. "Again, sorry..." he said, taking a seat on the bed, which was the only place to sit. Something was obviously bothering him. She had seen him do this before and felt it was a bit overdramatic, but she let him build up it. "Mina, this is the last year you HAVE to visit me. I know you don't like the boats, the crazies, and all that. I...I'm just saying its okay if you don't come back next year. We'll figure something else out, as adults."

She didn't know what to say as he left the room, still not looking at her. Inside, she was relieved somewhat, but another part of her was angry. "If you knew, why did you make me come out here on this stupid boat all of these years you asshole!?!"

She pulled her top back on, and walked out the door.