You might recall to mind that a fortnight ago, or thereabouts, a mysterious marking appeared on the door of our humble home. Set a shiver down me spine, even then, when I laid eyes on it, but that shiver was a mere nothing compared to what i seen this nite. I should have paid more heed to that mark, but I was hoping in vain that it was not what it was...
"Could not be so." said one.
"Such a thing has not been seen these parts since the dark days." said another.
So I put it from my mind, only to recall it again after the happenings of this night.
I had arrived home from working the docks (or thereabouts) to take my supper, as I usually do and looking forward to what fine vittels the Mrs. might have in store for me. The sun was riding low in the sky and a strong breeze was blowing, a Norwester, not uncommon for this season. Something strange was blowing in that cold wind too, chilled me bones, it did, and made strange shadows with those skeletons of trees in that orange evening light. I should have been wary even then, but I is mostly carefree at heart and most times pay such things no mind, especially when the prospect of food and drink is near at hand. So, as you might guess, I was ill-prepared for what I saw when I opened the door to me very own home. My blood ran cold and I nearly swooned right there in the doorway. I opened my mouth to call out for help, but my voice froze right in my throat and I could only utter a wheezing sort of gasp. Aye, but a scream for help would have done me not a whit of good, nothing but God himself could save me from this terror. But, I guess my gasp was heard by the Good Lord in that instant, cause He gave me enough sense at that moment, perhaps my darkest moment, to pitch myself headlong over the rail. Twas only that fall of shear fear and terror that spared me from being run clean thru by the sword of that.... I can hardly bring myself to name him for fear he might spring from some dark corner nearby... Indeed it was him, the Terror of the High Seas, the Scourge of Stratford... Black Everette, a name that has made even the boldest and bravest of men quake at the mere mention of it for ages gone by. Call me mad, say I have lost my wits, but here is some proof that the terror still sails these seas, watch it if you dare....
***UPDATE: The story continues...***
8 comments:
Nice to see your creative writing class went to good use!
Shiver me timbers thatsa bonechillin' tale :-)
A terribly fearsome tale of courage, wit and might I said it, 'luck' for a creature of such a vile and disturbing nature could only have been distracted by something more interesting to have left you intact. My nightmares have forever been challenged having seen but a mere glimpse of this vicious attack, but alas my mind will remain intact with the full knowledge that you, yourself have survived to tell the tale.
Almost too terrifying to behold!
What Dashing, Daring-Do!
What swordsmanship!
He could have attacked with Capo Ferro, but in a brilliant (and devious) stragem used Thibault instead! Your only possible counter-move was Bonetti's Defense--or diving over that convenient railing.
Methinks he must have been trained by none other than the Dred Pirate Roberts himself!
That is the fiercest Pirate in the North and what "pray tell" has become of the littlest pirate?
That door that Everette is standing in front of, the one with the egg and dart molding...you are going to strip that down and save it? It is a beautiful door and the hardware as well. Keep that one, it is a dandy. Just a thought from TOOL TIME.
Right you are, Hope. I had not considered how me might have known such clever swordplay. Me thinks, he must have been the Firstmate on Dred Pirate Roberts ship for a time.
Aye, Sabaville. That door is a beauty deep down, hopefully we can wipe clean the wears and tears of time and restore her to her former glory and such hardware is found thru out this humble abode.
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