It just wouldn't stop...

Stan sat up in his hammock when the boat stopped rocking with an abrupt jolt and an ominous creaking sound. "Ford, you good?" he called. No one answered.

Find him.

The old man stretched, placing his feet firmly on the still, wooden planks as he stood. Why were his shoes on?

Go.

Something was up. He hadn't felt so afraid since that triangular demon threatened to kill-stop, don't think about it. They're fine. Stan crossed to the door leading out to the deck of the ship, pushing it open as he scratched his chin in contemplation with the other. The con artist came to a stop at the realization that a familiar fez was snuggly fixed to his head. Didn't he give it to-

A darkness approaches...I'm here. I'm finally here!

Stan shook off his confusion, the dread welling up within him like a dam about to burst. He couldn't brush off the feeling that he would drown in the aftermath. The former business man shivered at the sight of the still waters around the boat. What caused the jolt that woke him up?

I'll give you anything.

He whipped around to face the front of the ship when he heard a dull thud. Stan raced across the deck, drawing out his lucky brass knuckles and slipping them on with the effortless ease of practice. The Pines man peered over the edge of the railing, stopping in shock and dawning horror. He turned away as bile built in the back of his throat.

The deal is off!

There were...pieces...floating in the water, brushing up against the side of the boat, surrounded by small ripples of water that were stained red. A leg drifted with jagged bones sticking out, and a torso stretched across the surface, connected only by the ropes of its intestines. He had briefly glimpsed an arm torn at the elbow joint, and Stan stumbled back to the edge because he had to check, he had to know if it was Ford, if it was his brother, his twin, his LIFE-

Don't you realize you're destroying your own mind, too?

-So he stared down and counted; one, two, three, four, five...just five, thank God, it was only five-

Oh, even when you're about to die, you Pines twins can't get along.

-But there was a bloody gash in the side of the hand, and something bumped into his foot-wasn't he wearing shoes?-where he stood on the planks. Stan turned his gaze down slowly and stared at the sixth finger. No no no no no NO NO NO NO NO! Not his brother, it couldn't be! The brass knuckles clattered to the deck, falling from his limp fingers and nearly landing on top of his twin's single digit. He fell to his knees and-

-sat up in his hammock once more. He glanced over in a sweaty, panicked state and met eyes with his twin brother, whole and together and concerned.

They shared a single nod before settling back down in their hammocks, long-accustomed to the easy rock and sway of the boat.

"Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time." ~Ransom Riggs (Hollow City, Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children)