Black Powder

On a cruise ship one night, snow begins to fall out of the darkness, and some of the children on board go out onto the decks to play. The snow is so thin that it disappears under their feet, leaving dark little foot-shaped marks.

Then, as they stomp and jump in the snow, black things peel off the bottoms of their feet and float in the air like jellyfish. They are crisp little parachutes, crinkled at the edges and slightly stiff, like paper. They are alive.

More people come out to see the parachutes as they drift in a manner not at all random. They are drawn to people, bumping into legs and faces, and just as the people are becoming disturbed by their strange movement, the parachutes are joined by something else: swarms of black bats that come out of the dark, clinging with claws to whomever they touch.

Everyone the bats touch, changes. They turn into ghosts, and if you look a ghost in the eyes, you become one too. Panic ensues, and people run for the glass doors. Some get in with bats clinging to them. Once they have changed, the bats crumble to black powder on the floor, and the ghosts stroll dreamily around the ship, looking just like regular people until you look into their eyes.

A day goes by. People are hiding from ghosts and one another all over the ship. I walk around, staring at my shoes and calling, "Who's there?" whenever I see something moving. Anyone who answers is still a person.

The ship's pilot, thankfully, is still at his post and is taking us toward land, but night falls once more before we get there. Black winged gargoyles thump against windows wherever there is glass. In the morning, a small group of people pick their way carefully to a gangway, jump overboard, and swim the short distance to dock.