Finders, Keepers - Prologue

"Y-You're really pretty for someone so e-evil," whispers the young sailor as I lay him down on the floor. "S-Such long hair..."

"Shhhhh," I whisper back, bringing a finger to his mouth to shush him. "Don't waste your energy."

"Annabel? Is that you?" He slurs his words together, turning onto his side and mumbling quietly.

"No, sweetie," my voice holds a bittersweet tingle to it as I look at the dying sailor by my feet. "Shhh."

"M-Mom?"

"Your momma is far away, on land," I kneel down to brush his tangled hair out of his eyes so he can see the roof of the ship and the drops of water that seep through the cracks.

"L-Land? L-Like the place with dirt? And- and- and flowers t-that fly and sing in chirps and whistles," he mumbles, reaching up with a limp arm, perhaps hoping to catch a drop of water. "Rain."

"Yes, rain."

"Annabel?"

I sigh, close my eyes, and begin to sing. As the sad and bitter words roll off my tongue I picture my mother, just like the sailor did moments ago. My heart aches as I watch his amber eyes flick across the room while his heart stills, the music of his life reaching its final stanza. I don't want him to be remembered like this.

"Do you love your mother?" I ask, a single tear rolling down my cheek.

"Yes, I love- I love my mother," he manages to croak out. His last words, something I truly do hope he means. And I watch as his amber eyes grow still, and the delicate, smooth notes of his melody stop playing.

I reach to close his eyelids with my fingertips. When I touch him I feel the chill of death.

I've never felt death before. I close my eyes and sing again,  breathing in the salty scent of the ocean outside. I feel another tear rolling down, and I lick it, tasting salt. It tastes like home, like water, like fluid motion and freedom.

I stand up. Death is somehow so cold and so still, while also being bright and vibrant.

The life of this young sailor is reds, and oranges, and all the shades in between and I can somehow feel his amber eyes and the yellow of his life in my hands.

I know I'm not supposed to cry now. My mother guided me through all the steps that I should take- I wish I could follow each to the letter, with confidence, with a smirk and a sly tone of deception in each note of the song like my mother does.

I take a deep breath.

"Finders, keepers." Just like Mom would say. And as I feel the salty tears cake my face, I force a smile and pour someone else's lifetime into a glass vial around my neck.

One done.

Only ninety-nine more to go.