Welcome to Abacu

This is the draft I sent off to the 2026 NYC Midnight short story competition. The word count was capped at 2000.

The genre: horror. The theme: entanglement. The character: cabin boy.

I hope you enjoy it.

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Welcome to Abacu

Harriet soon learns that Abacu, the floating city, is not what she always thought it was. That what she thought were mirages, are glimpses into reality.

Abacu, the floating city, sat majestically in the deep blue waters, growing ever larger as we approached. Sunlight glittered off small waves, but my attention wasn’t on them. It was on the curves of the giant ship, where I would be staying that night. Excitement ran up and down my spine as I watched us approach. I couldn't believe the time had finally come. I had worked hard to be chosen as one of the few who might get to visit a floating city, putting together videos of myself working in my community. Making a difference was Abacu’s motto, and those of us on the boat now headed towards the ship-city were the one hundred and fifty land people Abacu citizens considered difference-makers. Enough to come and visit and, perhaps, stay.

I sighed, closing my eyes to the wind, allowing the sun to warm my face and imagined being allowed to stay on the only place on earth that was free from violence, oppression and the constant power struggles that now plagued all land countries. The only place where everyone worked in harmony. Created and funded by Casey Donovan, the eccentric billionaire, Abacu had quickly become a shining beacon of hope for humanity. And now, at twenty-seven, I was finally chosen to visit.

The ship boasted over 5,000 citizens and was fully sustainable. I could see in the back of the garden area where they grew their own food, and a giddy nervousness rose within me and popped out as a giggle. It was more beautiful in real life than I could ever have imagined it in my head.

The girl next to me shaded her eyes, squinting into the sun.

“What's that?” she asked.

The sunlight flashed, and for a moment the majesty of Abacu disappeared, replaced by something that looked like a dilapidated oil rig. Then, within a blink of an eye, Abacu was back.

“Did you see that?” the girl asked.

“Just a shift in the sun,” the captain, the one chosen to come pick us up, shouted down to us. “Sometimes it does funny things. Like a mirage in a desert.”

I nodded. The girl next to me looked doubtful, but said no more.

We pulled up next to the back of Abacu, which had a dozen levels, all full of citizens waving their welcome to us. It was a thrilling experience to be so noticed, so wanted. We all waved back, laughing and shouting, the air crackling with joy.

“Come this way,” the captain commanded, showing us the tunnel they had attached to the boat. We filed in, chatting excitedly as we came out the end of a line of people.

“Each person has an assigned cabin boy. Your name is pinned to their shirts.”

Abacu shifted under our feet. We gasped and clung to each other. For a second I saw the Abacus turn from fresh-faced and healthy to ashen and sick. I blinked, and the nose that looked half-eaten turned again into whole, healthy flesh as the ground under us settled.

“I don’t like these mirages,” I told the young man who had my name pinned to his chest.

He cocked her head to the side. “You’ll get used to it. Please, let me have your bag.”

I handed it to him and complimented his accent.

“You are to go there,” he said, pointing.

I wanted to ask him what had happened to his accent, but he walked away, my bag in his hand.

“Our tour begins here,” a woman said. “I am Ylena, your tour guide. First, we ask that you stay together and do not wander to other places.”

Murmurs of discontent erupted.

“It is for the privacy of our citizens,” Ylena said, which stopped the murmurs. I was glad I hadn’t been part of the murmuring. There was a line of Abacu citizens with clipboards walking with us, making notes.

“I follow your socials,” I told one of them. She gave me a tight smile. “I wish there were more.”

“We are typically busy working and only put out the socials to dispel the rumors of those who claim we are not doing well.”

“I understand. I work, too,” I said quickly. “I like working.”

She wrote something on her clipboard but by the look in her eyes, it probably wasn’t good.

“What is your job on land?” she asked.

I was grateful for another chance as we passed the large communal dining hall. It held long tables with long benches. Not very pretty, but practical. The aroma of garlic, butter, and frying onions floated through the air.

“I have worked as a waitress,” I said. “And now I work in a retirement center.”

Her eyebrows lifted, looking almost impressed.

A horn sounded. Suddenly the air filled with the smell of sewage. The floor we walked on was cracked and rusty. The woman with the clipboard had only three teeth.

Then everything went back to normal. The mirages were giving me a headache.

I concentrated on Abacu and its shiny walls. The streets, like hallways, were clean. The people popping out of windows smiled and waved.

“Have you noticed the clothes?”

I turned to find the girl from the commuter boat walking next to me. She held out her phone, set to the Abacu socials. “They wear color in their ads.”

It was true. But we had only seen people wear blue or grey.

“Maybe it’s a day uniform or something,” I said, eyeing the woman with the clipboard.

A whistle sounded. Every Abacun suddenly went inside. The doors closed.

“That was weird,” the girl murmured.

Notes were made on the clipboard. I shifted away from her as much as I could.

We walked into the center, down a ramp and into underground hallways. “Here begins the sleeping rooms. When you turn eighteen, until you are married, you live here in Abacu,” Ylena announced. “Our guests also stay here. There is a room with your name on it down the hallway here.”

Floral perfume followed us down the hallway as we made our way to our rooms.

“The welcome dinner will be at six,” Ylena announced as we found our rooms.

Mine was smaller than my room on land, but I liked it immediately. There was a small bathroom that was scrubbed clean and looked new. The bed was narrow but also new. As well as the desk and chair.

“Will you need anything?”

My cabin boy’s accent was gone. I smiled. He smiled, his eyes roaming over me. I held out my hand to shake his; he imitated my actions. A giggle escaped me at the silliness of the situation. He giggled too; his eyes still fixated on me. When our hands touched, his was so cold it shocked me. I pulled away immediately, gasping.

He gasped as well, imitating my actions.

“Please get out,” I said.

He nodded and opened the door. A woman with a clipboard was there. They whispered together as the door closed, the latch clicking into place.

The light shifted. My room darkened. The smell of damp filled the air. Mold covered the bathroom tiles. My bed was lumpy; the blanket was ripped.

I blinked hard to remove the mirage.

When everything went back to normal, I touched them one by one to make sure they were real. The tiles were smooth. The bed linen was soft. The mattress was firm.

Slowly I put on my dress, brushed out my hair, and touched up my makeup. Music played somewhere. Acoustic guitars with male singers. The kind of music that made my hips sway and my stomach flutter with excitement.

I wanted to look like I belonged, but not overly eager, but my smile gave away my happiness. I shrugged at the mirror. Why not show them I was happy to be there?

A woman shuffled past me in the hallway, dragging a heavy chain behind her.

“What is that?”

The woman looked where I was pointing. The chain was gone.

“Time for dinner.” Ylena was standing at the end of the hallway, her pointed look directed straight at me. “Casey Donovan doesn’t like it when people are late.”

I hurried past her and up two flights of ramps, directed by the same woman with a clipboard. Abacu glittered with fairy lights strung everywhere. The music became louder and the air electric with anticipation. At the very top of the floating city was a large park with a mansion nestled between large oak trees. The people gathered in groups on the lawn, laughing and sipping from crystal champagne flutes.

“Welcome,” a deep voice behind me said. It came from a tall man with broad shoulders and thin mustache. His smile sent a strange chill down my spine, but when he handed me champagne, I took it. “Casey Donovan.”

“Harriet Straus.”

“Welcome,” he said, guiding me into the brightly lit mansion where every visitor was laughing and dancing.

The music never stopped, and the food and drink kept coming, served by smiling young men dressed in white.

“Quite a party, isn’t it?” The girl from the boat, the one I had tried to avoid, was next to me again. “Are you going to stay?”

I nodded as Casey Donovan took to the stage and quieted the band. I straightened my shoulders and leaned in.

“Welcome to Abacu,” he said. Everyone clapped politely. “The thriving floating city. I founded this place twenty years ago and am proud of what it has become. Here, there is no war. No arguing. No hunger. No pandemics.”

It was all things we knew, but still everyone murmured their approval.

“Here we have rules that we live by. Rules we agreed to, that are above all other beliefs.” He grinned at all of them, then lifted his flute. The young men came by everyone to freshen their glasses.

“Harriet.” The voice sounded so much like my own, but it came from my cabin boy, now standing in a serving uniform. He handed me a new glass, then bowed and backed away.

“To Abacu.”

We drank. The lights twinkled. The music started again, and my desire to dance overwhelmed me. With one person after another, I spun and twisted, the world moving faster around me. I laughed and shouted with joy. My partners laughed and drank. Around we went as the night wore on until suddenly everything went dark.

I woke up in a bed, my head heavy, my stomach sick. The room I was in wasn’t mine. 

The walls were damp and dingy. The floor was covered in a few centimeters of brown water and the smell was overwhelming. My stomach lurched.

I ran from the room, desperate for fresh air. It must be a cruel joke, where I had woken up.

Up the ramp I found myself near the back of the ship, where we had entered the day before. The boat was back and several people were lining up.

Including my cabin boy. Dressed in my clothes.

I choked in horror as he smiled and chatted with the girl I had avoided. And he looked just like me.

“Wait,” I shouted, but it came out a whisper.

“Can I help you?” A clipboard came into view, connected to the same woman.

 “I need to go.”

“You signed to stay.” She held out her clipboard. My name was scrawled on the dotted line. Her face was drawn; her hair stringy.

“The mirages are wearing off.”

“What do you mean?” I croaked.

“Welcome to Abacu.”

The boat left. The horn blasted. The air shifted. The air pixelated like a poorly connected television. Cracks ran through the floor. Rust grew suddenly and quickly over the walls. The people smiled without teeth, their faces dirty, ashen, sick.  

“I want to leave,” I said.

The woman snapped her fingers. Two men rushed me and snapped a large chain around my ankles.

“You’re free to go any time,” the woman said, pointing to the water.