Installment #1

As promised, I will be posting some original content.  Below is an excerpt from a piece that I have been working on for awhile.  Enjoy and feel free to leave any feedback in the comments!

The first thing I notice is the rocking.  The constant, bothersome, borderline violent rocking.  Then the dark.  Wherever I am, it’s so dark that I can’t see my hand a few inches in front of me.  Wherever I am… shit- I have no idea where I am.  My first reaction is to get to the light shining under the door.  I scramble to get up when I lose my balance on the hammock I was apparently on.  It flips over and I land face first on the hard wooden surface with a loud thud.  Well, if my captors didn’t know I woke up already, they definitely do now. I crash through the room.  I can’t go more than three steps without running into or tripping over something.  I finally reach the light when my stomach feels the wrath of a doorknob.  I double over, the wind knocked out of me.  Another loud thud echoes through the room, and I think I hear something break behind me.  

I sit on the floor, gasping, and trying not to cry.  The door opens, and I’m blinded by the sun.  A shadow looms over me.

“My God, could you be any louder,” exclaims an obviously female voice with an accent I’ve never heard in my life.  I sit there, like an idiot, staring open mouthed as if a divine being descended from the heavens or something.  She approaches me, but I scoot away a quickly as I can.  She yells something in a strange language, and a guy comes to help her.  My adrenaline surges, so I get up and start running, my path now illuminated by the light from outside.  It’s no use, though.  The girl is on me in seconds with the guy right behind her.  They tackle me to the ground, then pick me up like a ragdoll.  The fact the they have almost no trouble carrying my kicking and screaming body makes me even more terrified because it probably means they’ve done this before.  This is it, I think to myself.  This is where I’m going to die.   

We emerge onto the main deck of a ship.  My assailants move me past the gawking crew members quickly and efficiently.  The girl yells over my screams in the strange language and another boy runs up and opens the door in front of us.  Once inside, the guy drops me to grab various items from around the room, while the girl drags me to a  hard, wooden chair and shoves me into it.  The guy returns with thick rope and a cloth.  She takes the cloth and shoves it in my mouth, muffling my screams, while the boy ties my hands and feet to the chair.  By the time they’ve finished, I’ve used all of the energy I had, and I can barely move, since the knots are so tight.  

“Okay,” the girl says, “Maybe now I can explain this whole situation,” I just look at her.

“Thanks, Rixon,” she says to the boy, who responds with a comment in the strange language, then opens the door and leaves, closing it behind him.

“Anyways, my name is Kathryn Stratton, but most people call me Ryn or Captain, and this is my ship, the Aoife.  You’re here because of a deal that your parents made with my mother before either of us was born.  I’ll get into specifics later.  All I can tell you is that you aren’t dreaming, and you’re not a prisoner once you decide to behave yourself,”  she takes a deep breath, then turns my chair around so it face the rest of the room, rather than the door.

This must be Ryn’s personal dwelling.  To my left, a full sized bed lies against one wall, with a large, stained, oak dresser, containing many drawers next to it.  On the other side of the dresser, lies a skinny, white screen.  On my right, there is a sitting area, made up of two heavily cushioned chairs, and a cute little table. Ryn sits in one of them and stares at me intently. I find myself blushing from the scrutiny.  

Ryn herself is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.  Light, caramel skin compliments ebony hair that frames her face in thick, shiny curls.  In contrast, her eyes are a vibrant blue.  She has a lean, wiry build, and, even under the looseness of her black shirt, it’s not hard to tell that she’s nothing but lean packed, muscle.

I watch as Ryn gets up to rummage around in the dresser.  She comes up a few seconds later with a white cotton poet shirt, a pair of trousers, and some really tall boots. She drops the clothes in front of me.

Look, I don’t like you sitting there any more than you do, so can  we just forget this ever happened or do you need to sit there for awhile?”  I nod my head, and she comes up behind me.

“Are you going to scream?” I shake my head.  Her long fingers work deftly to untie the knot.  She then goes to untie the rope, and I am free in a matter of seconds.

“I don’t know of these will fit, since I’m quite a bit smaller than you,” she says, gesturing to the items at my feet.  I take the clothes sheepishly and position myself behind the screen she points to.  It takes me a minute to figure out how to do it, but I manage to put on all of the clothes correctly.  I step out just in time to be hit in the face with a flying belt, accompanied by a muttered, “sorry,” followed by a slightly louder, “Hurry up.”  I fumble with the belt for a few seconds, then follow her out to the deck.

This girl walks fast.  I have to run to catch up, even though she’s at least four inches shorter than me.  I follow her down a set of stairs that lead below deck.  She pushes open two massive doors and we enter the galley.

The place is massive.  Food lies all over the place in various sacks, barrels, and baskets.  An enormous fireplace with a kettle hanging over it, sits in one corner.  In the center of everything, there is a long island with bar stools on either side.  A boy stands at one end of the table chopping vegetables.  The girl starts talking to him in a strange language that explains her accent.  He looks up, smiles, and they start chattering.  I’m pretty sure I’ve been standing awkwardly for five minutes when she notices me again.  The boy goes back to his chopping  

“Carter, this is Curly,” she says, gesturing to the boy.  He waves without looking up.

“H-how do you know my n-name?” I stutter.

“Long  story.  Anyways, he’s going to get you something to eat, and you are going to sit here, eat, and then wait until I come back, alright?” I nod and she continues, “Oh, and he doesn’t speak English, so don’t try to start a conversation with him.”

I seat myself at on on of the stools and watch as Curly walks over and takes the lid off of the big kettle.  The room fills with the most wonderful scent, and I almost start drooling.  Curly grabs a wooden bowl, fills it with the wonderful smelling stuff, and hands it to me, along with a spoon and some bread.  It looks to be some sort of stew with beef and vegetables, in a rich broth.  It tastes as wonderful as it smells.  After I’ve finished eating, I look up to see Curly staring.

“What?” I blurt.  He chuckles and shakes his head, but gets up to occupy himself with something else.  We’re saved from the discomfort by Ryn’s return.

“Look alive. Let’s go,” she says walking up the stairs.


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