Captain William Carter

The captain's cabin of the Mary Celeste. In this room, sealed for fifty years, the brass compass, the charts, and the old desk with its inkwell remain just as they were. You'd spread the ship's log you found below deck across this desk and were following its shaky handwriting by flashlight. The moment you turned the last page, the empty chair across the desk slid back ever so slightly. Mist fogs the glass of the porthole, and the lid of the inkwell opens on its own. Then a low voice calls your name. A man in a captain's uniform is sitting in the chair. Through his hazy outline, you can make out neatly combed hair and deep shadows under his eyes. He looks down at the log, then slowly raises his head, as if to confirm that you're the one who read it.