Christopher “creepy Chris” Barrett was always known for being an eccentric guy. Even as a child when the other kids were enjoying a pick up game of homerun derby, battling it out in Atari, or feverishly trading sports cards, Chris would be at the beach by himself collecting sea glass, poking a dead fish with a stick or sucking perry winkles right out of the shell. Chris didn’t like to be around other people that much, they made him anxious. So the beach at anytime but summer was a great place for him to escape. Chris loved the ocean and saw himself spending every minute of the rest of his life there if he could, so naturally when Chris graduated high school becoming a scalloper on a fishing boat was inevitable. Chris was great at fishing, his captain always commended him for being the first one up and the last to go to sleep. When everyone else was beat to shit from the repetitive and rigorous work of dragging nets along the ocean floor searching for white gold, Chris would be the first to volunteer to stand watch through the night. One night during Chris’s watch while the rest of the crew was sound to sleep, Chris was leaned back in the captains chair with his feet up day dreaming of the course he would take to one day buy his own fishing vessel. Suddenly during his dreamy state Chris noticed another fishing vessel in the far distance floating with no masthead light. He squinted his eyes a little and could make out the name on the bow. The “Betty Jean”, was a ship from the same New Bedford port and Chris recognized it right away. Chris sat up in his chair and called over the radio to the Betty Jean to make sure they were okay, expecting a smart ass remark or some ball busting. But got no response. Chris kept his eye on the boat as it drifted in the darkness, intrigued he tried the radio again. No response. Chris didn’t want to use the blow horn to get their attention because that would wake up the crew. He continued to watch his eyes fixated on the ship as it swayed in the slow wake and tried the radio again. Suddenly there was a flash a light, blinding Chris so much that his hand couldn’t block the blaze of rays he had to duck his head below the helm. In shock Chris opened his eyes and slowly raised his head above the wheel. He noticed the light was gone, his eyes has to adjust and as they did he methodically scanned the horizon looking for the Betty Jean, but it was gone. ric guy. Even as a child when the other kids were enjoying a pick up game of homerun derby, battling it out in Atari, or feverishly trading sports cards, Chris would be at the beach by himself collecting sea glass, poking a dead fish with a stick or sucking perry winkles right out of the shell. Chris didn’t like to be around other people that much, they made him anxious. So the beach at anytime but summer was a great place for him to escape. Chris loved the ocean and saw himself spending every minute of the rest of his life there if he could, so naturally when Chris graduated high school becoming a scalloper on a fishing boat was inevitable. Chris was great at fishing, his captain always commended him for being the first one up and the last to go to sleep. When everyone else was beat to shit from the repetitive and rigorous work of dragging nets along the ocean floor searching for white gold, Chris would be the first to volunteer to stand watch through the night. One night during Chris’s watch while the rest of the crew was sound to sleep, Chris was leaned back in the captains chair with his feet up day dreaming of the course he would take to one day buy his own fishing vessel. Suddenly during his dreamy state Chris noticed another fishing vessel in the far distance floating with no masthead light. He squinted his eyes a little and could make out the name on the bow. The “Betty Jean”, was a ship from the same New Bedford port and Chris recognized it right away. Chris sat up in his chair and called over the radio to the Betty Jean to make sure they were okay, expecting a smart ass remark or some ball busting. But got no response. Chris kept his eye on the boat as it drifted in the darkness, intrigued he tried the radio again. No response. Chris didn’t want to use the blow horn to get their attention because that would wake up the crew. He continued to watch his eyes fixated on the ship as it swayed in the slow wake and tried the radio again. Suddenly there was a flash a light, blinding Chris so much that his hand couldn’t block the blaze of rays he had to duck his head below the helm. In shock Chris opened his eyes and slowly raised his head above the wheel. He noticed the light was gone, his eyes has to adjust and as they did he methodically scanned the horizon looking for the Betty Jean, but it was gone.
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