Alright, so, this is where we begin. This is my first Titanic fic. I know some of you may be disappointed because I'm not using Jack and Rose, but I thought I would take another take on the story. Something more...modern, you could say? Don't fret over my word count thus far, this is only the prologue, and I could only write so much of what hasn't already been said. So, I hope you stick around, and I hope you enjoy.

Perishable Dreams


Titanic was once called "The Ship of Dreams." An "unsinkable" miracle, luxury ocean liner that was so grand to scale from the carpeted rugs to the paintings on the walls that adorned the elegant and spacious rooms. She had taken four years to build. Harland and Wolff, the White Star Line, all of their blood, sweat and tears went to this wonder of a ship. On April 10, 1912, she set sail from Southampton dock on her maiden voyage to New York. Although on April 14th, her voyage was struck short when she scraped against an iceberg Its pale, murky sea water filled her hulls and before long sank into her icy grave at 2:20 a.m. on April 15th.

Of the 2000+ passengers that were on board, only a little over 700 survived. Over 1500 people lost their lives, mainly steerage and men.

From then on, the world vowed it would never happen again.

In 1985, Dr. Robert Ballard had braved all odds and discovered the Titanic in her watery grave, the eerie beauty of the ship's hull sparked emotion on all ends, and made history. Several films had been created, but none would ever capture the true vision of what had happened that fateful April eve, no form of writing would ever flood the readers imagination.

The year is 2004, dreams, ideas and plots come together. Harland and Wolff, The White Star Line, great-grand children of the living legends come together to rebuild what had been lost. Create a Frankenstein movement that would change all of history.

Again, she had taken all of four years to rebuild. How would the tarot cards play? Would christening the ship make any bit of a difference? Will there be enough life boats? Will the Grim Reaper find some sick amusement out of this in the end? Well, hoist the anchor and let the waters lap again her freshly painted hull. The answers will come sooner than thought.