Written by Lydia the Eleventh
Within my iron folds I hold the
souls of a thousand; tell me a tale, tell me a different tale. Tell me of
wooden ships and men of steel; tell me of the thousands of my kind who tread
the deep before me, and after. Tell me of billowing sails and grinding gears:
the sea breeds fine stories, does she not? Tragedy and triumph; tell me a tale,
tell me a different tale.
I was the daughter of humanity
and hubris, their hard-riveted, iron prodigy. I was willed into life: I had no
mother and no father, only proud creators and masters. I had shipwrights and
riveters, carpenters and engineers. Sisters, they told me, I had two, but none
to match. I was feted and upholstered; I was the grandest and the most
beautiful. Titanic.
Tell me a tale, tell me a
different tale.
I was young. I was yet a maiden,
having never left home, having never dared myself against the sea. I was sure I
could, and when the crowds waved their good-byes, I strained for the horizon.
Like Atlanta the virgin, swift of foot, I ran and ran–not away from the Old
World, but to the New: what I was made to do. I ran for praise, for fame and
glory. I ran with pride in my heart and fool’s bravery in my head, and I did
not hear the sea roil with anger.
Tell me a tale, tell me a
different tale.
I was proud of my good officers;
of my men, who oiled my iron gears and fed my boilers with cold coal, I had no
complaints. They were respectful and kind; they trusted me to bring them safely
across the sea. Men put their faith in me, in their daughter, their arrogant daughter.
Men put their faith in me, in my iron fastenings and clever bulkheads, in words
like ‘unsinkable’ and ‘watertight.’ Their faith in me: she of iron that was
built with human hands, and must be mortal as well. I was no better than them,
in the end.
Tell me a tale, tell me a
different tale.
I was too sure to falter on my
course, and too much to turn. So I passed, a grand nothing, a cold iron maiden
sinking into the deep, for ice–Nature’s wintry offspring–is stronger than iron,
stronger than man-made bolts and plates. Three hours I spent, feeling the
frigid waters filling my core, my men, my passengers struggling to survive.
Here was my anguish and my comeuppance: to fail and sink and betray those who
had loved me. The screams of two thousand souls quickly buried mine.
Tell me a tale, tell me a
different tale.
I am a cold tombstone on an
unmarked grave; I am a ruin of decay and splendor. I am she who weeps to fill
the sea; I am she whose cries carry on in the call of birds and the whistle of
winds. Drape me in mud now, wreathe me in rusty garlands and plaudits that have
moldered this century past. Wait by my broken body, for it is dark, and I have
strained my eyes blind looking for souls lost as I. Let me wander the ocean
floor and collect dust that was once bones and flesh, and perhaps, when finally
I dissolve, I can will them back the way they were, the way I was.
Tell me a tale, tell me a
different tale.
Tell me about the shores I never
reached, the souls I never saved. Tell me wide fantasies and arabesques that
waltz happily through time, elegantly sweeping down spiral stairs. Tell me lies
and make me believe, for one thousand tragedies are my burden alone to bear.
Tell me a tale, tell me a
different tale.
The End.