The Crimson Waterhog

The Lonely Maiden ship charted hastily over the Atlantic Ocean, rocking back and forth through strong waves. She was fast for her size, and built iron tough – outlasted dozens of duels, captained by the infamous Captain Carlyle. At the bow Carlyle stood with his hands on his hips, letting the fierce winds toss his coattails rapidly; his long brown hair reaching out behind him. Captain Carlyle looked out to the horizon, embarked on a quest to kill an ancient beast, the Crimson Waterhog.

The Crimson Waterhog was a legendary monster that would rise from the depths of the sea and demand traveling ships for a sacrifice, appointing a man aboard the ship to be devoured otherwise it would destroy the whole ship and kill everyone. If they offered the man to be devoured, the ship could pass freely. For centuries the Crimson Waterhog terrorized the Atlantic; but now Captain Carlyle and his men were on a quest to rid the ocean of the beast.

Jameson was perched in the crow’s nest surveying the waters. He had curly blonde hair and a thin frame. Jameson extended a telescope and spotted a small rock in the ocean. As they came closer, he saw there was a man sitting alone on the rock. “Cap’n!” Jameson shouted. “Cap’n, there’s a man on that rock over there.”

Carlyle unhooked a telescope holstered to his belt and looked out to sea. He saw the man on the rock. “I see him,” he grunted.

“Cap’n, what’s he doing over there?” Jameson asked.

“I don’t know. He’s just sitting there,” Carlyle replied.

The first mate, Winston, came up next to the captain. Winston was big bellied and wore a long neck beard. Winston took out his own telescope and looked at the man on the rock. “Aye. He’s sitting there, captain.” Winston said affirmatively and in a gruff voice. The rest of the crew joined Carlyle and Winston at the bow, about a dozen of them in total.

“Right, he does seem to be just sitting there.” Carlyle concurred.

“That’s right, cap’n,” Jameson agreed. “Cap’n, should we approach him?”

“What for? We’re after the Crimson Waterhog, not to help some man sitting on a rock.”

“That’s right, we are after the Crimson Waterhog,” Jameson acknowledged. “But cap’n, maybe he knows where it is.”

“No, I don’t think this man knows where the Crimson Waterhog is,” Carlyle diffused immediately.

“Of course, cap’n, he wouldn’t know, that’s right.” Jameson paused. “But what if he did?”

Carlyle turned around and shouted back at him in the crow’s nest. “Why would he know where the Crimson Waterhog is?”

“Well, I don’t know. He’s just sittin’ there, maybe he’s seen ‘im.”

“Maybe he’s seen him?” Carlyle repeated aggravatedly. “Just… passing by?”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just sittin’ there.”

Carlyle re-holstered his telescope and dropped his hands by his side in disappointment. “Are you saying that in the entirety of the Atlantic Ocean, thousands upon thousands of kilometers wide, dividing continents apart... this man happens to have seen the Crimson Waterhog on this rock? And despite the countless tales of the Crimson Waterhog devouring ships and demanding sacrifices, he simply saw the man… and carried on?”

Jameson thought about it. “Suppose it’s possible,” he said optimistically.

Winston leaned over to his left towards the captain. “Aye, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“No, I’m not going to stop the ship and ask the man if he’s seen it!” Carlyle declared.

“We haven’t seen it,” Jameson pointed out. The crew began nodding in realization they, indeed, hadn’t seen it. “In fact,” Jameson continued, “We don’t know where it is, cap’n.” The crew admitted to one another that they, indeed, didn’t know where it was. “We just know it’s in the ocean, frankly.”

“Look, you sods!” Carlyle scolded them. “This man does not know where the Crimson Waterhog is.”

“Do you?” Jameson asked.

“Well—” Captain Carlyle stopped. The crew looked at him and waited. “I know it’s here...” he spread his arms out a little, gesturing to all of the ocean.

The crew looked at one another and began to doubt the captain’s knowledge. Winston leaned over to his left and grumbled to Carlyle. “Aye, captain, it doesn’t hurt none to ask the man on the rock.”

Carlyle turned red. He put his hands up to stop the crew’s discussion. “Fine, fine! We’ll ask him.” The crew discretely cheered with each other.

The Lonely Maiden slowed beside the rock whilst the man sitting there watched it come to a halt. The crew came starboard and looked out over the ship. The man on the rock sat cross-legged on the stony ground and eyed the ship. He looked content, curious, and bit conspicuous, but certainly not in dismay. They looked at each other for a while.

Carlyle glanced at the crew, who were motioning him to speak. “Hello,” he shouted awkwardly.

“Hello,” the man on the rock politely shouted back. There was silence.

“Are you stuck there?” Carlyle inquired.

“No,” the man on the rock responded.

“No? Well, what are you doing there?”

“Just sitting.”

“Well, why are you sitting on this rock in middle of the ocean?”

“Don’t know. Just sitting.”

“Well… do you need help?”

“No.”

There was another brief pause as Carlyle and the man on the rock looked at each other; the man smiling blissfully. “I supposed you haven’t happened to have seen the Crimson Waterhog, have you?” Carlyle asked.

The man on the rock perked up. “I have.”

The crew looked in astonishment and smiled excitedly at one another. “You have?” Carlyle yelled.

“Sure. I see him all the time.”

Carlyle looked at his crew with pride. “Alright then! Where is he?”

“I won’t tell you.”

“What?” Carlyle asked in confusion. “Why not?”

“You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?” the man on the rock accused.

Carlyle stopped himself from answering truthfully. “Nooo...” he said slowly and then looked at his crew, shaking his head.

They understood. “No! No, of course not,” the whole crew denied.

“Yes you are,” the man insisted.

“No we’re not,” Carlyle denied.

“Yes you are.”

“No we’re not!”

“Look,” started the man on the rock, “I’ve seen ships come by here and they always ask me if I’ve seen the Crimson Waterhog, which I have. So I say, ‘Yes.’ And then they always ask if they can kill it. And I say, ‘No.” No ship is ever full of tourists who just want a peak at him to tell their friends – no, they all want to slay the beast.”

“Well, why don’t you let us kill it?” Carlyle asked in annoyance. “What gain do you have from protecting it?”

“Cuz it’s not nice.”

“Not nice?!” Carlyle thrust his fists downward. “This beast has been devouring our people for centuries! Not nice?!”

“He’s only doing it to protect himself,” the man informed arrogantly.

“Protect himself from what?!” Carlyle exploded. “He’s a massive monster that’s fifteen times the size of my ship! He’s ravished the Atlantic and killed hundreds of thousands! He demands a sacrifice to allow weary travelers to cross home or he’ll eat them all! What do you mean it’s NOT NICE to kill it?!”

Just then a little red blob popped up out of the ocean, the size of a little toy ball, and floated on the surface. It suddenly started paddling with very small legs – practically nubs – towards the Lonely Maiden. The crew leaned over the ship and watched the red ball paddle closer. Carlyle looked down and saw teeny tusks poking out of its round face underneath a large, squishy nose. The little red ball squeaked.

“Cap’n,” Jameson announced. “I think that might be the Crimson Waterhog.”

“My… God, that is the most adorable creature I've ever seen,” Carlyle sang. The crew put their elbows up on the ship and watched the little guy swim closer to them, some of them aweing aloud. “Well, bring it up, then,” Carlyle ordered giddy. “Winston, grab a net and bring it up.”

“Aye, I’ll bring it up,” Winston obeyed gladly.

“My God, look at its little feet,” Carlyle continued to adore it.

“I wouldn’t bring it up, if I was you,” the man on the rock warned.

“Oh, shut up,” Carlyle rejected him. Winston came back with a net and cast it just in front of the Crimson Waterhog, which was lightly splishing and splashing in the water. The net sank underneath it, and then once it paddled over the net, Winston and Jameson pulled the net up. The net wrapped around the Crimson Waterhog and took it out of the water.

Winston and Jameson unraveled the net and they all stared at it like a newborn child. It had two small black dots for eyes and a small mouth that curved naturally into a tiny smile; and as it breathed, its tongue would stick out each time it exhaled. It spat a little and snorted, to which when it snorted it accidentally rolled itself on its back and its feet kicked in the air.

Carlyle bent down and picked up the creature like a baby and held it out in front of him. He looked at its face. “My God.” He spun it around in its hands and examined it. “Sir!” he called out to the man on the rock. “What is this?”

“It’s the Crimson Waterhog,” the man stated.

“Is it an offspring?”

“Nope. That’s it.

“This all of it?”

“That’s right.”

Carlyle pitied the beast. “Well, it’s not terrifying at all, is it?” He looked under its belly. “My God, it looks like a balloon with legs,” Carlyle shook his head in uncontrollable admiration. “It’s the most adorable creature I’ve ever seen!”

The Crimson Waterhog snorted and squealed. “It wants you to stop spinning it like that,” the man said.

Carlyle looked at the man shocked. “It what?”

“It wants you to stop spinning it around, you’ve made it dizzy.”

“I’ve made it dizzy?”

“That’s right, you keep twirling it about like that; it doesn't like it.”

“You can talk to it?” Carlyle asked in bewilderment.

“Well, I can understand it.”

“How do you understand it? It’s just snorting.”

“I’ve been on this rock for a while, I’ve picked up bits on its language.” The Crimson Waterhog snorted several times. “Oop. It wants its sacrifice,” the man on the rock dreadfully declared.

The crew burst into laughter as Carlyle held it up with one hand. “It wants a sacrifice, does it?” Carlyle laughed.

“That’s right,” the man on the rock confirmed.

“Alright then,” Carlyle decided to amuse himself and the rest of the crew. “Who does it want?”

The man pointed at Jameson. “The curly haired one.”

Jameson raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. The crew ooh’d and ahh’d like schoolgirls. “It wants to eat Jameson?” Carlyle clarified.

“Yeah. It hates blondes.”

Carlyle proudly bestowed the Crimson Waterhog over to Jameson, like passing a toddler off. “Careful, mate!” Carlyle cautioned, and they all laughed.

Jameson took the Crimson Waterhog between his two hands and looked it over, twirling it around. “It’s not so bad! Cap’n, I can’t believe this is the same monster that has terrorized these parts for centuries – I mean look at it? I’d like to get one of these for my nephew.”

“Aye, captain,” Winston leaned eagerly towards Carlyle. “Should we keep it?”

The crew pleaded with Carlyle to let them keep it, “Please, please, can we keep it?”

“Alright,” Carlyle caved. They cheered like children. “Who’s going to feed it?” Carlyle asked.

“Cap’n, I will,” Jameson said proudly. “I’m supposed to be the sacrifice anyways, might as well feed it!” Just then, the Crimson Waterhog sprung out of Jameson’s hands and unhinged its mouth, latching onto Jameson’s face. Three rows of teeth shot out of its gums and sunk into Jameson’s flesh; Jameson screamed. The crew ran away in horror, screaming in absolute paralyzing fear, some tripping over themselves and crawling away in fright. Within seconds, the Crimson Waterhog ate off Jameson’s face. Jameson collapsed to the ground and the Crimson Waterhog bounced on the floor like a rubber ball. It honked mindlessly.

“My God!!” Carlyle cried. “Christ! It ate off his face!!” Some of the crewmates wept in fear.

“Told you,” the man on the rock bragged.

Carlyle watched the Crimson Waterhog roll along the floorboards aimlessly with its tongue poking out of its small mouth. “Winston get rid of it!” Carlyle shouted.

“Aye—I won’t!” Winston confessed.

“What you mean you won’t! Do it!”

“I don’t want to get eaten, captain!”

“Well I don’t bloody want to get eaten either! Please, get rid of it!!” Carlyle begged. Winston was panting heavily; he was shaking. He couldn’t move.

Carlyle crawled starboard, groaning nervously, and looked out to the man on the rock. “Sir!” he called out helplessly, glancing behind him for the beast. “How do we get rid of it?”

“Just throw it back,” the man on the rock replied casually.

“Just throw it back?!” Carlyle repeated doubtfully.

“That’s right, just - you know, hoist it over, back in the water, yeah?” the man mimicked an overhead throwing motion.

“What if tries to eat one of us?!”

“It won’t, it’s already had its sacrifice.”

Carlyle stared angrily at the man. “Are you sure?”

“You’re free to pass,” the man smiled back. Carlyle turned around and stared at the Crimson Waterhog, which had bumped into the mast, snout first, and flipped on its side, wiggling. Carlyle looked at Winston with pleading eyes, hoping he would throw it back in the ocean, but Winston was staring at the floor, muttering to himself.

Carlyle inhaled and exhaled quickly, mustering up courage. He suddenly yelled as he charged towards the Crimson Waterhog. He grasped it with two hands, extending it as far away from his face as possible, ran towards the side of the ship, and heaved it overhead, like a sports ball, casting it back in the ocean. The Crimson Waterhog made a small splash in the water; it bobbed back up to the surface, swam a few meters, then dipped itself, snout first, in the water and swam down, disappearing.

When the Lonely Maiden returned, Carlyle, Winston, and the rest of the crew were too ashamed to admit what happened; so they reinforced the myth that the Crimson Waterhog is a massive monster that could never be killed.