Jason entered this piece in his first writing contest. He didn't place, but enjoyed writing it. Hope you do as well.
I must admit that I am still so often impressed by the creativity and accomplishments of mankind. I realize that perhaps I shouldn’t be. I did create you all from my own image. There are definitely a number of moments that stand out more than others, however. Today is one of those.
This new, incredible ocean liner is breathtaking and marvelous. The RMS Titanic. Amazing. This seems more of a floating luxury hotel than a passenger liner. Just don’t take the towels, please. Thou shalt not steal.
What an undertaking, just to build such a monstrosity. I’ve been watching from up here for over two years while you’ve constructed this work of art. I’ve heard more than a few of you mention that even I, Myself couldn’t sink this. Be careful. Hubris is not an attractive trait to display before a maiden voyage across the ocean.
Not that I’d want to sink this amazing ship. But let’s not forget that I could. I flooded the Earth that last time, after all. That Noah fella sure did a bang-up job with that ark. It survived those 40 days and 40 nights of the great flood I sent their way.
They didn’t have the tools and technology that you all have used over the past couple of years. I see why you may think that this Titanic is unsinkable. I’m rooting for you, I really am. I’ll be watching with eager anticipation and curiosity, as you depart tomorrow. Until then.
Wednesday, April 10th, 1912
Good morning to you all! I see that the passengers are starting to board. The 3rd class passengers are being inspected for sickness and ailments that might disqualify them from being allowed to travel. Nobody wants a shipload of sickness or disease, I get it. If anyone wants to throw out some prayers for health and healing, I’ve got you covered.
All in all, it looks like sheer excitement on the faces of most. At least from my vantage point. Excited small children. Barking dogs. I’m amazed at how many pets are being transported with their owners on this journey. Where do you walk them, when they need to go potty? Just curious. I have an inquisitive mind.
The adults look pretty jazzed as well. A few of you seem nervous. That’s completely understandable. Not everyone has sailed on an ocean before. At least not on a passenger liner of this size. Truly it is a titan adrift the sea.
Second-class is boarding now. These folks also seem very excited. Everyone seems impressed with the luxury of the ship, the size of its components, the detail, and decor of the lavish surroundings, and the stately design of the ballrooms, dining halls, and other areas of the ship. A floating luxury hotel, indeed.
Finally, the first-class passengers are getting on. Wealthy people sure bring a lot of baggage with them. Seems kind of metaphorical. Christ, I’m judging again. I know better than that.
But the valuables? The bullion, artwork, so many exotic pets, and other trappings of success. A CAR, even? Are we just attempting to one-up the lower classes of passengers, perhaps even the other first-class people? Seems petty and silly. Perhaps they’re worried that they will miss their pretty little valuables. Maybe I’d feel that way if I collected such things. A hoarder, I am not. My reward is in Heaven, not on Earth.
Everybody is on board and it appears you’re launching on the maiden voyage. Oh! Be careful of those ships, that was a close one! The waves kicking up as you departed almost caused a collision. We don’t want any dents or scratches on that brand new beautiful ocean liner, now.
I’m taking a closer look inside now that you’re en route to France. One of the perks of being The Almighty. You know that expression, “God Be With You” that believers are so fond of saying? This is what they’re talking about.
Oh, and thank you for not playing worship music and starting a church service in the middle of departure. That’s awfully unfair to the other passengers who may not be believers themselves. After all, this cruise is pretty much a party. I’ll be the first to admit that most church services are boring.
Unlike this first hour or so on board. Wow, it really seems to be a growing party up in here! We have live music, incredible food, and even a saloon complete with dancing. This is what I’m talking about. People are having a wonderful time and enjoying each other’s company. Seeing everyone getting to know their neighbors, breaking bread together, and having a good time warms my heart.
It would be nice to see the first, second, and third-class people mixing it up together a bit more, but such is life. I see enough of this all over the world daily and it drives me crazy. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Think about it. At least some of you seem to be trying. I appreciate those people who enjoy getting to know others, the ones who differ from themselves. Life can be so boring, otherwise.
After the quick stop in France to pick up more passengers, it looks like we’re on the way to Ireland. The French sure know how to liven up a party. Baguettes, cheese, French champagne, and wine, it’s party time once again. The music, dinner, drinking, and dancing carry on through the night as we head toward Queenstown.
Thursday, April 11th, 1912
Good morning! Many of you probably don’t even realize it’s morning, many having sung, drunk, and danced the night away. Some of you had a pretty restful evening once you finally returned to your cabins. Breakfast looked delightful and it’s another fine day to be cruising on the Titanic.
We arrive at Cork Harbor around 11:30 am to pick up the rest of the passengers here in Ireland. That thing I said earlier about the French really knowing how to turn up the volume on the party? I spoke too soon. The Irish passengers came locked and loaded. Irish whisky is a-flowin’. Now we’ve got a vibe going.
There is not much I enjoy more than seeing wonderful people enjoying the company of other wonderful people. Most everyone on the ship seems genuinely glad to be here. A number of you though need to check yourselves. Talking down to others a class or two below you is not something that goes unnoticed. If I know the number of hairs on your head, you can bet I know who’s throwing around Karen-energy on this ship.
And be kind to these kids. Have patience with them. Many of you subscribe to the theory of “Children should be seen and not heard”. But you were children, once. You remember what it was like trying to compete for attention and having a difficult time getting any. I’d rather hear from your kids than you, much of the time.
I see these happy, smiling, excitable children running around the ship. Many of them with brothers and sisters, some with their pets. The amazement and awe in their eyes seeing all of the incredible things they are experiencing brings me a Fatherly joy that most couldn’t comprehend.
So be good to them, Parents. For most, this will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Let them have a 2nd dessert. Eat one yourself. Have patience with them after they have that extra dessert and have a sugar buzz going. Laugh at the memories you are making with them. Life is short.
At this stage, we are continuing along our route along the Irish coast, after departing from Queenstown. From there, we begin the long sail across the Northern Atlantic ocean.
I’m impressed with how so many people are coming together as we continue our journey across the Atlantic. Even more of you seem to be loosening up, letting your hair down, and having a wonderful, joyous experience. As we continue on through the night, keep treating each other like royalty. I see you partying like it’s 1999.
Friday, April 12th, 1912
We’re on the first leg of our long stretch across the ocean. Water in every direction you look. Some of you seem not to notice, too caught up in the luxury and impressiveness of this man-built marvel you’re riding on.
Some of you notice your surroundings. Not the man-made ones, but the ones I get to take credit for. I see you gazing off in any given direction, looking for something else out on the horizon. Land. Another ship. Hope. That’s where people like you and I often meet. We find each other when you’re feeling hopeless and turn toward me in dark and scary times.
I’m always there. You may not see any other options around, but I’m here. Like the expanse of the ocean you’re viewing right now, so can be the wideness of fear and anxiety. Fear of the unknown. Fear of poverty. Fear of the finality of death.
You don’t have to be afraid. Things can become more and more clear. You don’t have to feel like you’re alone in the middle of nowhere, like this gigantic ship with nothing to immediately compare it to. Is this ship actually massive in size, with nothing visible in sight? Or is it in reality, tiny, as compared to the vastness of this ocean, the sky, with nothing else in between? Just a thought.
The sky is getting darker, it’s difficult to see. You notice the stars above. Wow, they’re sure bright out here, with no other light sources reducing your view of them. I see that feeling of insignificance overwhelm you, being one of a couple of thousand people on this ship. Which is traveling on one of five oceans. Located on one of nine planets. In our solar system. Among billions or trillions of galaxies.
This can make one feel quite insignificant. I feel that way at times, compared to the vastness of the universe. And I even created the damn thing. It’s no wonder so many people feel such loneliness. We aren’t alone, but it often feels that way.
You head back to your cabin to change for dinner. You forget about the empty feeling from earlier and occupy your mind with drinks, dinner, dancing, and laughter. For a while, you feel happy and content once again. But I know we had a moment up there on deck. You and I connected. I’m here for you when you feel like nobody else might be.
Saturday, April 13th, 1912
You’re getting closer, as it’s the second long day across the ocean. There is still so much distance to travel, but it’s pretty amazing how far you all have made it at this stage. I’m impressed with the progress you’re making.
The temperatures have been pretty mild today, at least for mid-April on the Atlantic Ocean. It could be worse, but I’m sure everyone is glad that it isn’t. Worried passengers aren’t good for business. That’s why they haven’t told anyone about the fire on board yet.
You haven’t heard about the fire? Yes, fires are pretty common on steamships these days, as the coal used to stoke the fire can spontaneously combust. This particular fire has actually been going on for ten days prior to our departure.
It can be managed, the coal bins are huge. The fires have to be extinguished with fire hoses. Then they move the coal on top to a second coal bunker and remove the burning coal, feeding it into the furnace. It’s quite a process and it’s pretty incredible that the passengers are none the wiser.
I’m not a big fan of fire. You know, with Hell and all. I don’t like to see people burn. Having it happen on an ocean liner would be a tragedy. Nobody should have to experience burning alive.
Ok, enough negativity. That topic isn’t my favorite. It seems the crew is making progress with this fire. If you see a dirty, sweaty fella on this ship who smells like smoke, give him a hug. Well, maybe a pat on the back, or a fist bump. He has a difficult, dirty, dangerous job. Somebody has to keep all of you safe.
Speaking of safety, it strikes me as odd that there doesn’t seem to be enough safety boats for this ship. You don’t have to be able to do god-like math like I can to know that something is amiss here. Based on the number of men, women, and children on this boat, there is a definite shortage of available seats on those boats. That’s not even including all the animals.
Well, what are the odds of this colossal ship ever sinking anyway? Unless you guys are torpedoed or something, but who would even think of doing that to a passenger cruise ship? I’m sure it will be fine.
Sunday, April 14th, 1912
Well, it’s Sunday. Being that they neglected to build a chapel on this monstrosity, you guys get a pass this weekend. But please try to think about me a bit today. That’s all I ask.
It’s become bitter cold on this fifth day of the journey. It seems you’re progressing and getting closer to The Corner, which is southeast of Newfoundland. This is where ships heading west make a change of course as they head toward the United States.
Many of you are thinking about your friends and relatives you’ll soon be seeing in the United States. So many of you are thankful this voyage is coming to an end. As incredible and amazing of a journey as it’s been, it’s time to have your feet back on land. To be a part of history and lucky enough to have taken part in this voyage, you’re feeling fortunate and blessed.
After passing through The Corner, the captain has received warnings about icebergs coming ahead. I am not sure why he is not opting to slow down. He seems to be content trusting the lookouts and a few people watching from the bridge. This full-speed-ahead mentality doesn’t seem logical to me.
Wait. One of the lookouts just spotted an iceberg straight ahead. He’s telling First Officer William Murdoch. Murdoch is ordering the ship to be steered around the iceberg and calling for the engines to be reversed. But it’s too late. Dear God.
The ship is flooding. Five of the watertight compartments have filled up with icy water. This means this ship will sink, as it’s been determined that four compartments breached would mean the ship is doomed. Panic is ensuing. The reality of the situation has sunk in.
My heart is breaking as I see men, women, and especially children crying. They are scared to death. Many are calling out to me. I’m with you. I’m crying, too. Animals are barking, meowing, chirping, freezing, and then going silent. I’m holding you creatures in my arms, all of you. People who say animals don’t go to heaven haven’t got a clue. They all do.
I’m crushed that I’m going to be seeing so many of you so soon. Yet, I’m even more devastated at how many of you I won’t be seeing. I wish that all people made it here as all the animals do. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not a ship this size. Not on its maiden voyage. Not ever.
Many people call out to me, curse me, blame me, or question how an all-powerful, all-knowing deity can allow such tragedies to happen. This is the part they just cannot fathom or understand. The concept of free will.
If I simply saved every person in all tragic, horrible situations, what would be the point of choosing my way? There would be no incentive to be saved, no afterlife in paradise to look forward to. No death to overcome. No living life eternally with me.
You’d all just be living here forever on Earth. Free will would not exist. When we make certain choices, there are always odds and results. Consequences of any and all choices you make. When everyone aboard The Titanic chose to take the very first maiden voyage, they acknowledged that it was possible it could sink. As highly unlikely as that was to happen, it could. And it did.
Some of you escaped death. Over 700 people survived in the lifeboats that were used. Over double that number perished. Many of those that perished, I’ll be meeting soon. Many of you I will not be meeting. I’m devastated by both of these facts.
To be clear: I did not cause this tragedy to happen. I also did not prevent this from happening. I sadly observed it from up here and my heart broke along with yours and your loved ones.
People think I have far more power than I actually do over what happens in life. But that’s not how it works. So make good choices. Live every day like it could be your last. For many of you, the early morning of April 15th, 1912 aboard the Titanic was indeed your last.