Hello, land-lubbers and sea-dogs alike!
This week is bound to be a confusing combination of restful and swashbuckling. Not sure whether to tell you to grab a brace of pistols or a margarita, because…
This week’s writing group prompt is:
Come Sail Away
RULES AND GUIDELINES BELOW!
Make sure you scroll down and read them if you haven’t! You may not be eligible if you don’t!
It really sounds like a peaceful styx song or a piece of lovely lounge music, doesn’t it?
But you just know somebody’s gonna get keel-hauled this week. It’s gonna happen. There are too many sinister brains in this writing group for it not to go that way.
So let’s embrace the duality of it, accept that a swatch of canvas tied to a big pole can either mean peace and escape, or murder and plunder. Mostly, I think, it depends on what color you paint the thing.
This one’s straightforward enough that you probably don’t need my help interpreting or imagining, but here are a couple potential suggestions to put the wind in your sails:
- Combine “pirates” with just about anything and see what comes of it (e.g., what are “rust pirates”; what is their plunder, what type of sea fo they sail, are they even human?)
- Turn the ocean into a symbol and then send someone or something across it, see what that turns out to mean (e.g., if the ocean is “despair”, then what does it mean to sail away upon it? What would it mean to find an island? A ship in a bottle? etc.)
- Think about the phrase “come sail away” as an entreaty. There’s a suggestion here that you leave wherever it is that you are and take to the sea. Find out what that transition means to you. Why would anyone want to do this? What does the sea hold that the land doesn’t? How enticing is this, actually?
Now get out there and… relax? raid?
Whatever floats your boat.
—
Remember, this is part of our weekly Writing Group stream! Submit a little piece following the rules and guidelines below, and there’s a chance your entry will be read live on stream! In addition, we’ll discuss it for a minute and give you some feedback.
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Come Sail Away
By Chengir
Likks hated humans. “Stupid towering giraffe-like beasts. Smooth skin, not even any scales.” he snickered. But the Ronnu was going to fix everything. The three-foot-tall red-scaled kobold grabbed the bottom of the ladder. He tested the ropes. Likks still wasn’t sure the balloon and the boat hanging beneath it would stay in the air. After all, you can’t trust wizards. Most of them just don’t understand the universal nature of property. As in what is yours is, in reality, mine. Likks had to teach the mage who made the Ronnu’s balloon with the appropriate application of a knife blade to his sternum.
The summer sky was dark but clear. All you could see was a few blinking stars. “The humans will never see us coming in the dark. Stupid, scaleless bean poles,” he announced to the crew as they scrambled about the deck. Even humans wouldn’t be tall enough to reach the Ronnu floating over their village. He could hardly wait.
The boat barely moved as Likks climbed. Which the kobold took as a good sign. They needed enough ballast to keep the ship low, to avoid freezing at altitude. He reached the deck of the Ronnu and had the crew pull up the ladder. It was a nice-looking boat, sturdy, and well-made. The air up here smelled fresh. Likks didn’t know what to do about the smell. Kobolds tended to prefer damp, moldy air. It was comforting. Likks found this fresh air smell disturbing. He walked to the rail and looked down. He had to fight to keep from vomiting. This whole plan would work out much better if he wasn’t afraid of heights. At least they weren’t too high up. Kobold’s freeze in the cold. This is why you don’t see any kobold mountain climbers.
Likks strode over to a massive pile of rocks in the center of the deck. “Now remember,” Likks explained, when we get to the village of the lousy tall humans, everybody grab as many rocks as you can and throw them over the side.”
Washed Away
by Gage Jarman
You step out of the door, young, full of vigor. The alley is thin. Dew streams down the walls. You can’t see outside the small backstreet. You walk forward, out into the damp cobblestone streets. A shroud of fog leaves only silhouettes. You keep moving.
Buildings, signs, strangers, and friends pop in and out of view. You hear the lapping of the bay. Down on the wharf, there are rows and rows of ships. Each one looks identical in the heavy fog, a colorless silhouette. You ask the harbormaster which you should board. He tells you, that’s for you to decide, that you should follow your gut.
You walk up a gangplank. You don’t know what the destination is. You don’t know if this is the right ship. Will there be a storm. Will the supplies last. Sailors shout in the distance, and you watch the other ships leave one by one. A shipmate walks you through your duties. You unfurl the sails. Hitch and unhitch ropes. Over and over again, you carry out these tasks, and you grow tired. Your hands are bloody and split from blisters. The drone of the sea grows.
You no longer know how long you’ve been at sea. The grey fog still clings to the ship, obscuring any sign of the sun or stars. You feel lost. The salt has wrinkled your skin and moldy rations make you weak. There is no sign of land. No sign of a destination. The crash of the waves on the bow is the only indication that the ship is still moving. You carry out your duties.
You’re weary. Your hands are calloused and numb. They shake vigorously and you know not why. The fog blows away. A storm calls massive swells. You brace your withered body against a rope and hold tight. The ship is battered by the sea. A wave crashes over the deck. Your hands falter.
You sink beneath the waves. The sound of the storm is deafened. The sun breaks through the clouds. Golden light shines from above the water.
You sink deeper.
The Shake up
By Michael Case
The sun had just come up over the horizon when we noticed that some of the population had vanished. We were not aware of what had happened other than a weird shaking overnight. There were no screams of distress, no cries for help, no nothing just the shaking.
Those of us that were left became afraid of what had happened. We feared that the shaking and vanishing will happen again. We were like newborn babies, trying to understand the world around us not knowing that this place was only a small part of it.
Those that had vanished didn’t have time to tell us who they were, what their dreams were, or why they were even here. Those that vanished were only here long enough for us to know that they existed, then they didn’t. Will that happen to me?
The place moved again. We were awake this time when it happened. The place shook like a wave on the water. Back and forth the place swung, then suddenly the place stopped. More of us vanished, but this time rumor had it that they floated off like angels being called to other tasks. One of us supposedly said that it was beautiful in its own right.
I didn’t buy it. How can vanishing from existence be a thing of beauty? How can a disappearance of anyone that comes from the place shaking be anything but terrifying? I don’t believe that anything good will come from this vanishing, nor do I believe that this shaking can go on before all is lost.
The sun begun to slowing drift off to sleep behind the other horizon. My being filled with terror, every gram of me inflamed by fear that the shaking will begin again. What if I vanish this time when the shaking starts, then what?
Oh no…
The shaking has started again. I feel strange. I can’t yell for help, I can’t cry out in fear. I’m no longer rooted, I have sailed aloft. This horrid wind has blown me from my dandelion.
Ah, darn… I mostly write pirate related fanfiction so I don’t think I’d qualify for this one… but it’ll still be interesting to hear what people write!
A Trip To Die For
By minergirl778 (aka frogfireFantasy)
“Uh… Daisy, was it?”
“Mhmm! That’s my name!”
“Right… uh… You’re not dead. Why are you here?”
The girl’s legs dangled playfully off the edge of Charon’s boat. She barely hesitated to answer his question
“Well, I’m here on a mission!”
“A…Mission?” Wait… Was she one of those people?
“Yep! I’ve gotta bring a hero up from Elysium and get their help defeating a monster!”
Yep. She was one of those folks. He rolled his eyes beneath his dark hood.
“Awful lot of trouble to go through to beat a monster.” He noted. “But, money’s money. Any plan for how you’re gonna get him out?”
“Well…” She stretched back a little, eventually lying down on the deck of the boat. “…Not really. I figure I could just go in there, Ask Hades nicely, and bring ‘em up! Some guy did that with his girlfriend! I can totally do it!”
“Uh…huh. You do know how that story ends, don’t you?”
“No? How?”
He chuckled a little. Oh gods, they were going to eat her alive.
“Dead. The both of them.”
Her face smiled, but her eyes had fear in them
“…OH! Cool! Cool, cool cool cool.”
They reached the other edge of the shore and the girl slowly climbed out. She looked fearfully towards the entrance, but Charon caught her attention before she could go.
“A word of advice, lass. The dead seek to bring anything above them to their level. If you keep your wits about you, your story might end better.”
She gave him a small smile and a nod.
“Ok! Thanks, Charon! I’ll be back later with my hero!”
He waved her off with a smile. He loved teasing the heroes, but he always gave them encouragement when they left. He liked seeing them come back alive. His job didn’t give him much to be happy about… But bright-eyed youngsters like that just gave him hope.
“Good luck, Thespinis. May the gods guide you.”
Sail Away To Peace
By Cansas Dale
I have met the one you call death, but I know her as Liimore which translates to death in the ancient tongue of my ancestors. She first appeared to me in a dream. She asked “Would you like to come with me to The White Shores and sail away to peace?” I told her “I can’t. I don’t know why, I just know I have work to do.” Liimore put a hand on my head and said “such wisdom for one so small.”
Over my many adventures Liimore appeared to me multiple times. She even saved my skin once or twice. Each time I saw her, she asked me the same question “Would you like to come with me to The White Shores and sail away to peace?” and each time I told her “I can’t yet. I still have work to do.”
Now as I lay bloody and broken on the cold ground. My brother cradling my head in his lap and my sister in bond held my hand tightly in hers, Liimore appeared for the last time.
“Your work is finished Dale. Would you like to come with me to The White Shores and sail away to peace?” She asked sweetly.
I looked up to meet my brother’s gaze. Eyes speak more truth than words ever could and in that moment Lockie’s eyes told me it was time to go.
Then I looked to Leona who’s lilac eyes were filled with tears. “I don’t want you to leave.” she sobbed “but I want you to have peace….and this is the way.” she took a breath then said with a smile. “You can go.”
After we said our last goodbyes Liimore asked “Are you ready Dale?” I looked down and said “I don’t think peace suits me.” Leona and Lockie both grinned. “But I’m ready for this journey to end and a new one to begin.” I brought my eyes up to meet Liimore. “I’m ready to go to The White Shores and sail away to peace.” Liimore smiled and said “such wisdom for one so small.”
Am, a Ship’s Tale by Charles Funk
I know not how i came to be. Only that i did.
My birth was welcomed by revelling crowds as I emerged a handsome frigate with sky piercing masts and fluttering sails that swelled large with pride as did I. But not as large as the beauty that was the sea before me. I floated on her with awe. Never have I felt so small.
Britain was my mother. Bristol Shipyards was my womb. Rene Duguay-Trouin, a French Coursier, was my father who christened me “Le Concord”.
“Sail with me, mon amie.” He said to me. “Like days of old. I am the gallant knight. You, my valiant steed who will brave us to the unknown. Together.”
My sails swelled large as we made for the horizon where adventures lie.
The seas were fickle creatures yet Rene knew her dance. From furious storms to perilous battles, the captain and I prevailed. Never did my sails falter under his gentle hand.
Not until Rio-de-Janero.
In a war that I don’t know. Against fellow ships bearing other colors. I fought for Rene till deck became red. My wounds gave him victory but he gave me away because of it.
The following masters were uncaring but less cruel than he. Those years were paved in tears. Something I shared with my passengers crowding my hull to the brim in chains and blood. My sails barely tose in those sorrowful years as every trip and batch became more depressing than the last.
The winds changed with my fate skulled sails appeared one day. Inept as a captain as he was a swimmer, my master was usurbed by a demon bearing a great black beard. One that even I could fear.
There I expected the epilogue of my story. A lonely cold grave.
Instead I received a new master and a new name.
“Ye be mine now,” he said proudly. “My ‘Queen Anne’s Revenge’. What adventures we’ll have ourselves.”
I swelled once more and the seas parted as I paved through it with bellowing wrath. Eager for my new beginning. Eager to what awaited beyond
Mad Men Come from the Sea
Written by Cody (aka ProfBelgian)
Bryson drove his shovel into loose earth and kneeled to the ground. He stuffed a young rhubarb start into a hole and blanketed it in fertile soil. It was growing season on the lonely island and his yield would be good. His father would be proud—at least, what was left of him.
Past the rocky shore near his farmstead, the evening sun began its descent and a distant drumming rolled in from the sea. Thrum. Drum. Drum. Thrum.
Inside his home, boarded windows blocked what little light was left outside. Bryson lit an oil lamp, then set a large plank against the door. He had only moments before they reached the beach.
Stuffing old cotton into his ears, he perched himself on a chair facing the door. He imagined the distant ship and its crazed crew, had seen it once, as it glided in on a thick fog heavy with drums and manic laughter. It was their shanty that drove all men mad.
He grabbed his father’s musket from the wall. He was left one shot when his father was taken. A pity he never learned to smelt.
“You save this for yourself, you hear?” His father had said.
“I won’t. If you’re taken, I—”
His father smacked him. Farm work made calloused hands and the sting lasted.
“You damned fool!” He grabbed Bryson’s face with sturdy fingers. “You think I brought you into this world to die?”
Torch light danced through the cracks in the windows. Bryson saw the door handle being tested, gripped his musket tight. The door heaved as if being beaten, sending wood splinters flying. This was unusual, Bryson thought, the madmen carried no tools or weapons, only song and drum.
He watched in shocked realization as his shovel blade came crashing through the door. When it was lifted out of its wedge, he saw a torch’s flame, then the face of his father, covered in sea rot.
He lifted the musket, shakily aimed it towards his father as the cotton fell from his ears. Their devil song filled his head and he laughed.
“Like It or Not”(some explicit language)
By King_Nix
A thunderous explosion woke Peter from his sleep. He checked his watch, 3:33 AM. He heard the ship’s sirens begin to blare. Groggy crewmates casually slid out of their bunks, and began making their way out to the deck. Peter looked quizzically to his friend Matt.
“Must be a drill?” the sailor said, though the explosion had seemed all too real.
Following the other crewmen, they were about six feet from the door when a shot rang out. Blood and gore splattered against the wall as a giant of a man filled the exit.
“You lot get movin’ back in there!” he barked, cocking the 4 gauge in his meaty hands. “ ‘Nless you wan’ me te paint this ‘ole rig with yer brains!”
Several crew members woke from their stupor, while others remained frozen in shock. More gunfire could be heard from outside, as Peter and Matt turned back and ran down the hall. Another blast echoed from outside as the two sealed themselves in their bunkroom. Peter looked out the porthole to get a glimpse of what was occurring outside.
Fire filled the docks. Explosions ripped through ships not ten yards away. It was then he realized that his ship was moving. The tethers holding her had been cut loose, and she was pulling away, heading for open ocean.
“They’re hijacking the ship!” he cried to Matt.
“What?! Are they on low-grade acid?! We’re the fucking Navy, who do these pricks think they are?!”
A banging on the door took their attention from the window.
“Good that y’all shut yerselves in there!” came the gruff voice of the giant man. “Ol’ Bill here’s gonna keep an eye on ya, so no funny business, ya hear?”
“Hope you fellas are comfortable in there!” came another voice, probably that Bill. “We’re havin’ ourselves a little cruise with this here battleship, and yer comin’ along with us.” Peter looked once more out the porthole, to see the blazing dockyard shrinking further into the distance. “Whether you like it or not!”
Eternity at Sea
By BrokenEarth
“Captain! Land!” The Barrelman shouted from his lookout.
A few members of the crew looked up, a spark of hope in their eyes, but when the Captain spoke it quickly faded.
“Sail away. The enemy will have trapped the docks.” The Captain had been getting more and more paranoid recently, ever since they had discovered the chest of gold in an underwater cave.
“But, Captain. We need to restock on food and water. Rations are thin, and if we stay out much longer-” The Quartermaster began, but the Captain cut him off.
“Are you trying to talk back to me? I gave an order! Unless you plan a mutiny?” The Captain drew his cutlass and pointed it at the Quartermaster.
“No, Captain, but we can’t go on like this! We’ll starve, if thirst doesn’t get us first!” The Quartermaster drew a breath to continue, but instead of words blood came from his mouth.
The Captain had cut his throat, with a look of disdain on his face.
“I should’ve known I couldn’t trust him. He was acting shifty all along. Were any of you,” He turned to the crew, “Plotting against me with him?” He spoke calmly, but his voice was strained and eyes were bloodshot. He was barely holding it together.
The crew were quick to deny this. If they banded together they would’ve been able to stop the Captain, but they didn’t know who they could trust, who would side with the Captain, or anything.
“Good. Helmsman, turn us away. I’ll not let them get my treasure anytime soon.”
The ship moved on.
And on.
And on.
One by one, the crew fell from hunger, thirst, or Captain’s cutlass. The Chef had thrown himself off the ship mere days after the Quartermaster’s death, and the remaining few considered doing it themselves.
The Captain took the wheel after throwing the Helmsman’s corpse off the ship, and, not realizing he was now alone, said into the wind, “He was only holding us back! Onward, my crew, to riches and glory!”
Honor-bound (Public Group Repost)
By NocteVesania
Zeke storms out of the garden. From his clenched fists and scrunched eyebrows, it was clear to Belle how he felt about her proposition. Still, she believes she’s fighting for what’s right, although she feels her heart heavy from that exchange.
“How do you think the Council would feel if they learned that a Sterling corroborated with a rogue?” Zeke said in a stern voice.
Belle leaned in close. “How do you think the people would feel if you sat here watching as they starved to death?”
“This is bigger than us! We’d die the moment we bare arms against the Council.”
Belle stepped back. “Then I’d rather die fighting for my nation than live cowering in fear.”
She watches her old friend walk towards the lake in search of solitude; out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sir Benedict, head of the Sterling family, follow him.
By the lakeside, Zeke watches the gentle waves come and go as he reminisces on days long past, playing with a younger Belle on this very shore. His father stands beside him, silent and still. Eventually, the old man’s raspy voice breaks the silence.
“Son, I know that she’s leaving, and I know your thinking of coming along.”
Zeke says nothing, but the young Belle’s voice echoes in his mind. “We can reach the clouds! With Brass! And Steel!”
“Whatever you do, remember this,” his father continues, “a man’s honor comes not from doing what he is told to, but from doing what he believes is right.”
With those words, Sir Benedict hands Zeke a sheathed rapier, ivory and metallic. Zeke takes it and raises the blade up to the sky, the glint of steel gleaming from moonlight.
“Together,” Zeke hears that girl’s voice again, “we can build the future.”
“Thank you, father,” Zeke whispers as he wraps arms around the old man before heading back.
Back at the garden, Belle sits impatiently on an ornate bench. As the two meet again, he does not speak. He simply gives Belle a nod. Belle smiles.
“Welcome to the Iron Rose, Commander Sterling.”
“Sail to a safe place”[Aleph null science fiction, public group coppy]
By gregovin
They start to walk away, toward the bustling run-down market. I think they’re not happy here. They look … dejected. Maybe I can help them out? I speak up.
“Hey! You don’t have to stay here!”
“Do you want me to come?”
“Yeah. I think you would love a chance to see another sun.”
They replied “But I don’t love you. Can we be on the same ship together?”
I barely manage to hide a pang of guilt and sadness.
“I know. Even still, I’ll deal with the awkwardness. You don’t have to stay in this dump, and you seem decent.”
“Who else is aboard?”
Let’s see… Who else would be aboard?
“Kyle, Eli, Angel, Larisa, Roman, Calum, Septimus, and Parish.” That sounds about right.
“Oh. Yeah, sounds good. Are you sure you can deal with this?” They gesture between us. I know what they’re talking about.
I’m about to break down. Breath. She can still be my friend. Life isn’t all about romance. Self: you got this. Still, a single tear slid down my face. Self: you asked for an inappropriate thing, least you can do is help her out. I hoped she would come with. Didn’t want to leave her here in this place.
They continued. “Ok. Where, exactly, are we going?”
“No clue honestly. Wherever the money is I guess.”
“Maybe we need to do some planning”
“Planning … Uhg, fine. Planning planning planning…”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a disk, pressing a clicky button as I do so. A holographic map of the galaxy appears. This thing is really cool.
“Alright, let’s see. We are about … here” I zoom in on the map as I say this. I poke another point on the map as I continue talking. “Trade with Xanzlya is good this time of year, so that puts it about there. Maybe next we keep heading toward the galactic rim until you find a suitable drop off point?”
“Sounds good.”
Pleading Ignorant.
By The Man Himself.
Declan reclined and extended a hand for a beverage.
“What are you doing?”
“Giz a glass of something cold and hard.”
“Declan. Declan, you’re going to die out here, you know that right? This is you being stoic and going down with the ship right? And I mean ‘going down with the ship’ in a strictly metaphorical sense since, y’know. You don’t even had a real boat to expire in.”
Declan opened his eyes and surveyed his vessel. He’d lucked out really, there weren’t many cardboard boxes big enough for him to almost fully stretch out in, and the sides had bent and creased so they curved around him as he leant back, sagging to create a comfortable throne.
“How is this thing even staying together?”
Declan shrugged.
The brightly coloured bird that perched on the side of his craft sighed.
“I don’t understand why you’re stressing out…. Maurice? Is your name Maurice?”
“It is if you think it is. Regardless, you need to get a hold of yourself. You don’t even have any water.”
Declan squinted disbelievingly at Maurice and gestured all around him to the endless expanse of blue.
“That’s saltwater Declan.” Declan didn’t react, apparently unmoved by this statement. “Have you been drinking saltwater!? Okay, this explains a lot.”
“Hang on.” Declan held up a hand to call a time out. “How do you not know what I’ve been drinking? When could I possibly have snuck a quick sip of brine without you seeing?”
“That’s what you have a problem with?” The bird replied through gritted teeth. Yuck. Bird teeth. “Tell me Declan, what even am I?”
“A parrot?”
“Why?”
“Why what Maurice?”
“Why am I a parrot?”
“Cuz, y’know. The ocean. Pirates and all.”
“Are you planning on trying to attack a passing ship!? Why am I here?”
“It’s just the aesthetic man. Get over yourself.”
“Tell that to yourself! Ask yourself these questions! Why the hell do I have to be the only part of your brain with enough sense to hate you right now?!”
Declan shrugged. “So, no cocktail then?” Maurice swore and disappeared.
Do you remember the Zeppelin? (From the Private group)
By: Larissa (Lari.B.Haven)
“The new model of Sky whale Zeppelin will arrive at Porto Real next week”. Said the headline.
Carlos bent the newspaper and something jumped from his memories. It was a long time ago, but Carlos still remembered.
The memory was so vivid. His lovely wife and the giant whale-like construction that sailed with tranquility above them in the sky.
His five-year-old son was still in the realm of dreams and he and Zoella had just commemorated their first year of marriage.
On that day they were walking around the town after a stressful visit to her family’s Mansion. His wife’s family always was a delicate subject for her. He hated the way they treat her, with cold looks and subtle insults.
But on that warm afternoon, everything just seems to dissolve slowly after she put her feet on the beach sand.
They sat quietly next to each other looking at the waves breaking on their feet until she spoke within a deep breath:
“ He always looks so displeased with me.”
“You don’t need to visit your grandfather if that’s how he makes you feel…”
“I know…” She answered fixating her gaze on the fishing boats sailing.
“Zoella, I’m your husband, I’m here for you.”
She remained silent until something caught her attention. She held his hand surprized. A bluish silvery spot started to roll from behind the clouds.
“It’s the Zeppelin, Carlos! It came early!” she said smiling. “They said it would only arrive next week!”
The crowds soon fill the beach, the sailors waved and screamed from the boats, the children ran to the water to give a better look, everyone was overjoyed.
All Carlos could do was look at her excitedly gasping and pointing. He occasionally glanced over the sky, the metal Behemoth was impressive, but nothing held more beauty than her joyful expression.
Carlos wanted to see her smile again. While she was still in the hospital, he decided to sit in his writing desk and write her a letter:
“My love, Do you remember the Zeppelin?”
“The Golden Smoking Pipe”
By Joe Kharms
From birth I’d been given a family heirloom of sorts, it was a golden smoking pipe. I never went anywhere without it, even as a ninety-six year old woman I rarely had it out of my mouth. Often I would sit by the window smoking from it and gazing out at the front drive. One day, while staring out the window, a letter came.
“Eleanor, the President requests you come to Washington to immigrate with him to the island of New America.” said the letter.
“Can I open you now?” I asked the letter, who had spoken the message so eloquently.
“Go to hell.” replied the letter, it seemed offended.
After telling my husband about the President summoning me, he immediately arranged my transport. He asked me to pack, so I grabbed my belongings and went to the drive to await my transport.
I stepped outside and found a horse. ‘How very old fashioned’ I thought to myself. I jumped on the horses’ back and got ready to ride the horse to Washington.
“What are you doing!?” exclaimed the horse.
“Riding you to Washington.”
“I’m your bloody chauffeur!”
On the drive to Washington I talked to the horse. His name was Brandon Sugar and he was very nice for a horse. He wasn’t great at driving, all horses are a bit dodgy. On the way I saw a yellow cat holding hands with a sky blue dog. Back in my day cats and dogs were sworn enemies, so it was an uneasy sight for me to witness.
When I met the President we had tea together, and then he led me to his ship.
We were walking up the gangplank when the President turned to me and said: “Chuck that Golden Smoking Pipe overboard, New America has no use for such a thing.”
“I will not!” I fiercely replied.
The President smiled, it was a warm smile yet full of remorse. He boarded the ship without me and sailed off into the sunset.
When the sun disappeared under the Earth, I was plunged into darkness.
The sun never rose again.
Eager Adventurers
by Lunabear
Aarun glided through the cottony magenta clouds of the midnight blue sky. The wind pushed his aquamarine and yellow striped sail at a brisk pace, his stance strong on his black glider. The green, bespectacled troll LOVED the open air, his red eyes glittering.
“The captain of the skies, look how high I can fly! Over clouds and under moons, the windy Gale is my boon! The stars shine when I ask, avoiding the sun is no easy task!” Aarun sang as he traveled above sparkling waters and rolling orange hills.
He was caught in a strong current, his sail threatening to fold, but he followed it on a loop de loop, a triumphant laugh echoing.
The large mountain range came into view, a smile widening Aarun’s face.
Gliding into a smooth landing, he dismounted and approached the cave entrance.
“Avast ye, First Mate Malise!” Aarun called, affecting a favored accent. His voice echoed from the cavern walls before they were swallowed up into the darkness.
A yawning roar was Malise’s greeting.
“Wake up, ye scurvy dog! The high skies await us! Prepare to sail!” Aarun advised.
“Will there be food?” a rumbling voice asked lazily.
“Aye, First Mate! Heaps of it! Now, come along! We must hurry to collect our crew!”
A dragon slithered from the cave. Faceted jade eyes and a sharp-toothed grin saluted Aarun, followed by a long, black scaled body with hair the color of the mystical blue flame.
Malise stretched his six, two-toed limbs while shaking his three-horned head.
Running at top speed, Malise leapt from the cliffside, righting himself in midair.
Aarun followed Malise’s lead, catching a strong gust to steady himself.
Stopping next to a river, Aarun dipped his fingers into the stream, wriggling them.
A head popped up, and a loud squeal erupted from the pink otter, her turquoise eyes dancing. Malise hissed in pain. “Please, do NOT do that,” Malise groaned.
“Deckhand Kaymen! Do ye be up for an adventure?”
“Aye aye, Captain!” She gave a hearty salute.
“Savvy! Board Malise! Next destination be the Fae lands to fetch Lookout Carm!”
The Spider
By Matthew (Handsome Johanson)
It was a calm Autumn afternoon. Astrid was reading the latest Terry Pratchet novel, and Leah was in the kitchen making something for dinner. Orange flames gently swayed in the fireplace, gifting a cozy respite from the chilling afternoon breezes.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”
Suddenly, the atmosphere was shattered by the shrill scream of Leah in the kitchen. Astrid jumps out of her chair and races to her calls..
“Oh my god. Are you ok?” she asks as the kitchen comes into view. In the corner, Leah was scrunched up, pointing at the food she was making.
“There’s a spider on the counter. Kill it. Kill it!” Leah whimpered as the eight legged beast roamed the kitchen unabated. Astrid breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“No!” Astrid scolded. “ I’m going to take it outside where he can be free.”
“Ok, just get it out of here! And be careful, please. ” Leah pleaded, worried that the spider might try to attack with its dangerous fangs.
Astrid grabbed a piece of paper and politely encouraged the little guy to get onboard. Together, they began their journey into the woods outside. She walked for a moment, before deciding she had gone far enough and carefully setting the small creature onto the forest floor.
She turned to leave when she heard a harsh, raspy voice behind her.
“Forgive me for being a bother, tonight.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Astrid called out as she turned around to see no one behind her.
“I tend to wander a bit too much for my own good.” The voice continued. “But I really appreciate you not killing me and throwing me away.”
“T-the spider? Is that you?” Astrid stammered as her heart swelled up with fear.
“Do not be afraid. My god has temporarily granted me the ability to talk. He has a message for you. If only you would come with me deeper into the forest.”
“Uhh, I have to get back. My girlfriend is waiting for m-” But the voice interrupted.
“No matter, I’ll be here whenever you are ready. Just call for Loki. He’ll know what to do.”
Run
By TwangyFlame0
“WHY THE FUCK ARE WE RUNNING AWAY?!” Danth’s kobold ears flapped as he ran through the trees.
“BECAUSE THERE’S A GIANT FUCK OFF SQUID MAN WITH A HALBERD CHASING US!!” Bjorn ran as fast his dwarf legs could take him.
“A WHAT?!”
“I SAID-”
“I WAS BEING FUCKING RHETORICAL, RUN!!” Danth snapped back, almost running on all fours.
The two small humanoids ran, as, through the trees, another humanoid creature three times the duo’s height, wearing a sigil on its chest and with a large halberd in its hand. Its form was shadowed as the village behind it burned, its yellow, hate-filled eyes locked on the two humanoids.
Danth was faster than his companion and reached the beach where their dingy was moored. He didn’t waste time untying anything and just cut the rope keeping the dingy on the beach. He began pushing the dingy as hard as he could out into the sea. He got a few feet out before turning to his partner, “JUMP!!”
Bjorn hopped on a rock and jumped as far he could. Danth extended his hand and used magic to push his friend closer to the dingy. When the dwarf landed, Danth used his magic again to steady the waters around them. He then turned towards the beach, “Hold on to something!”
As he pointed his hands towards the beach, their pursuer came out of the tree line. Its dark purple skin was illuminated by the moonlight. It screamed and began running towards them. Danth forced the magic building around him outwards in a gust of wind that pushed them far out into the sea. The dingy crashed against the waves like a rock skipping over stones. Both Danth and Bjorn screamed out as they held onto the sides of the boat for dear life.
Once the force of the wind subsided, they both began heaving, their chests rising and falling quickly. Bjorn puked over the side when Danth noticed a strange set of blankets under one of the seats. Danth slowly looked underneath and saw a small human girl, shaking in fear.
You Don’t Have To Stay
By IsaDragon337
Talin blinked. “Come again?”
“Come aboard the Sierra when we leave.” Tack’kal wiggled a feeler-arm at the sterilized greenery. “You are clearly miserable here.”
“We barely know each other.”
Tack’kal tinted purple in frustration. “We have been ‘pen-pals’ for many months. Many of your letters describe dissatisfaction with your life. And you smell miserable.”
“I’m not miserable.”
Tack’kal glared with all 15 of his eyes. “To use a human term: Bee-ess”
“I’m not!” He heaved a sigh at the blue-tinted radiation dome. “It’s just… after the destruction of Earth, everybody’s walking on glass around me!” He slammed his hand on the synthetic grass of the ‘recreation park’. “I never even visited! All my relatives moved off The Dustball decades ago! There was nothing there for me!”
“Come with me, when I go.”
Talin buried his head in his knees. “The captain will hate me.”
“Alexi will like you.”
“Ship probably vents oxygen.”
“I breathe oxygen. And there is a Veershara on board, you can get plenty of UV.”
“Did you already think this through?”
“Yes. You are not happy here. I want you to be happy. You are my friend.”
“Using my own language against me. Jerk.” He was smiling.
Tack’kal turned an eye-searing chartreuse in smug joy. The human handbook had said that insults in a ‘playful tone’ were indicators of strong friendship.
“What would I even do on a ship like that?”
“Extra beings are always needed for cargo.”
“She’s a cargo freighter? What’s she hauling?”
“Vanity items.”
“I’m a farmer.”
“Earth ‘mint’ and Chauleain ‘chabbage’ are two popular imports for many planets.”
“Nice to know that something not poisonous made it off planet.”
“We could see Kal’ash’katan.”
“The jungle planet?”
“My species’ homeworld.”
Talin’s head poked out of his knees. “What. No, wait. How do you know the ship is sailing there?”
“Captain Alexi insisted. She needed someone who knew plants, and the great libraries are there.”
“How do you know the crew won’t treat me like a time bomb?”
Tack’kal smirked. “The captain’s human too.”
Employee Orientation
By PitL
Footage: April 9th, 2194 – Unaired
Greetings, once and future employee! I would like to be the first to give you a warm welcome to Starlight Enterprises (TM)! Whether you’re from the Inner Planets or Jupiter Station, we’re pleased you’ve come to sail the stars with us!
The first thing to remember here at Starlight is simple: we staff are a family. There is no “I”. Each crew has at least twelve members working at any given time, and all of them are specifically restructured to care and trust each other more deeply than you could ever imagine. In fact, happiness and morale are our highest priorities!
Despite appearances, we are aware that there’ve been rumours. Ships going offline, people disappearing. We can swear with the utmost sincerity that you and your crew are perfectly safe out here in the void of space.
Of course, even if they were true, it wouldn’t matter! For you, the voyage is what matters! There isn’t anything before the journey, and there isn’t anything after. Trust us! Come with us!
Now that we have that out of the way, we’d like to address matters of payment and benefits. We know that you need your money, and it’s coming soon! We just need to straighten out a few monetary details, write up some contracts, and you’ll be receiving your first paycheck before you can –
Oh. I’m sorry, didn’t catch that –
Okay. Are we still rolling or –
Got it. We can cut it out later.
Now that we have that out of the way, we’d like to address payment and benefits. Starlight employees don’t need payment. You enjoy working for us. You want to come with us. However, complimentary psychological services will be available immediately upon arrival.
I hope this covered all of your big questions. You’ll be reporting to your latest assignment shortly; upon arrival head directly to your captain. Do not speak to anyone else. Do not acknowledge anyone else. There is no one else. Begin your journey!
Happy travels!
END RECORDING
Divine Holiday
By T.E.
Whipple crawled out of the hammock and found a whole bunch of humans surrounding him.
“I’m not in the mood for more worship,” he said and stumbled a few steps before emptying his stomach onto the white sand. “Lovely punch yesterday, but I have to move along. Put up a few more statues until next time. Toodeloo!”
The crowd made way while Whipple shielded his eyes from the sun, his head felt like a minor deity could emerge from it at any moment. He stumbled towards Jerakeen, his giant turtle who bore his small bungalow upon her back. The local humans kept their distance to the turtle, out of fear or respect Whipple didn’t know, nor did he care.
“Missed me much?” he said with a smile as he stroked Jerakeen’s emerald shell. When the turtle had taken him out onto open sea he leaned back on her shell and sighed with relief. “Free offerings whenever we pass by, ain’t that nice Jerakeen?”
The sound of a sneeze emanated from the small bungalow. A tiny squeaking sneeze. Nevertheless, it caught Whipple off guard. “Who’s there? Show yourself or face divine wrath!”
A tiny human emerged from the bungalow. “Mighty Whipple! I’m here to offer you my service.”
“What the? I have no need for a domestic human. Off you go.”
“I know many secrets of humankind that could aid one such as you. Look at this,” it showed him a browning banana it had brought.
“You do realize I created bananas, right?”
“But I can change it. I can make it into banana wine.”
“Go on.”
“I can make food, drink, and all kinds of stuff! All I want is to see the world. Take me with you and you will never be wanting human creations.”
“That doesn’t sound half bad. Just promise to be quiet unless spoken to. I have quite a horrible headache”
The human nodded.
Whipple patted the human on its head. “Jerakeen set course for anywhere except whence we just came. It’s time to see some world!”
Offering the Stars (Corespace Universe)
By Calliope Rannis
“No!” exclaimed Clev Repper, breaking his normally quiet demeanor. “No, I mean…what you are suggesting is…completely unsafe-”
“Just think about it for a moment okay?” Astra replied, gesturing for him to sit back down, before turning to her other prospective partner. “What about you? Are you interested?”
Ember was still languidly laying sideways in her chair, but her eyes were now looking right at Astra’s own rather than the patterned ceiling. “Well, I do love the idea of stealing some billionaire prat’s prize toy, but this is much more of a, ah, commitment than what I prefer to do.” She sat up a little. “I keep my statements low key for a reason after all.”
Astra paced for a few seconds, fiddling with her long dark-blue hair. This wasn’t working. She was no orator, she couldn’t convince these two people to follow her to the stars, all she was EVER good for was knowing things that she never got to see –
Knowledge. Facts. Maybe just use facts. You know those, after all.
She turned and replied: “Ember Rhilanin, your petty vandalism and public disturbances aren’t ‘statements’, they are an excuse.”
“What-” Ember blurted.
Astra rattled on. “You are a thrill-seeker. What you ‘say’ with your actions is inconsistent and generic because you don’t actually care, you just want to be chased, to evade capture again and again. What I’m offering you is the epitome of that – an endless chase to the far reaches of space, with a ship that will be able to outrun your pursuers every time.” She smiled and softened. “At least, if that ship has a pilot as good as you at the helm.”
Ember stared at her for a moment, before shifting her body to face forwards. “You’ve certainly done your research. I feel like I should be concerned about that, but you ARE right.” She stood up. “Your plan is insane, Astra Adoras. But it’s the exact kind of madness I’ve always wanted to try.”
She extended a black-nailed hand, which Astra took with delight, before swiftly turning to Clev.
“Thought about it yet?”
Lofty Waters
By: Nenthusiast
“Weigh Anchor!” shouted the quartermaster.
“Aye!” answered a chorus of men.
The morning sun was about to rise, when the crew of the “Chasing Misery” got a look on their next target. The ship sealed its presence, waiting in a cloud, so that just the lookout went above the never-ending sea of clouds. As the engines started, the soaring anchor was quickly lifted and the Misery started to rise. As they ascended, a few spotlights shined bright upon them.
“Raise the red flag! Ready the cannons. Let’s give them a warm welcome, boys!” The captains command went through a system of pipes. “This is our last chance to secure gas and food. Be quick about it.” She went to a different pipe. “Gunners on position?”.
A metallic “Aye” shouted back.
“Status report?” she asked the sailing master.
“Contact in about two minutes. We will have the opportunity to fire into their starboard bow.” He confidently reported back.
For the next minute you could only hear the sound of running engines, rotating propeller and the steps on board of the crew. The Misery slowly gained momentum to put itself with their Port in front of the approaching ship.
“Fire in the hole!”. The first few cannonballs flew across the sky, piercing thru the walls of the ship. Smoke where soon spotted and the ship began to sank down.
“We must have hit the engines!” informed the lookout the captain.
“Ready to enter! You have less time than expected!” said the captain into the pipes.
“No one who falls, ever comes back the same”. The crew repeated the last sentence.
Twenty men, wearing a long rope, a big basket on their back and armed to the teeth, were standing on a catwalk beneath the Misery’s vessel.
“Jump!”
On command they fell down into the lofty heights, landing upon their target. Gunshots. Screams. For the next few minutes. 17 men came back, the other ropes were cut. With there baskets filled with loot.
“Good job boys. They went straight to Davy Jones’ Locker. May we hope, no one who falls, ever comes back.”
Fairer Skies and Wilder Dreams
By MysteryElement
(Also posted in Private)
John and Paul made their way through the market, the same routine as the day before, and all days before that. They had little to sell, but it was a living. One had to make a living. They wandered the coast line, passing many canopied stalls and shouting vendors, when John caught sight of a poster, brown and worn in the salty breeze. Calling Paul over to read it, the two shared a glorious grin before suddenly dashing away from the market, their small basket of wares left behind. The poster had read:
“My name is Lionel, though it hasn’t been for long, and I am what you might call a ‘Daydreamer’. When stray dreams and thoughts take form, rising into the cloudy sea, that’s where you’ll find me and my crew.
I’ve had other crews before, friends and good lads from all over. But I can no longer remember their names, very much like I cannot recall my own from that time. One of the dangers of Daydreamin’ you see, is you will eventually fade into the clouds to join the dreams if you’re at this job long enough. It’s not guaranteed, I’ve been at this job longer than most, but I’ll not sugar-coat it for ye.
To be a daydreamer, you have to be brave and adventurous, all caution thrown to the wind before setting sail. You’ll see things like you’ve never seen before, sailing the vast open sky like common fishermen as we cast our lines for ideas and dreams, maybe even catchin’ the occasional nightmare! Common sense is not a welcome commodity on the Dream-Catcher, and if you don’t like it; you’re not welcome aboard.
If you are lookin’ for the adventure of your lives, come find me. You don’t have to look hard, I can be found anywhere dreams are made real. Look to the sky, and you’ll see me aboard the Dream-Catcher comin’ to claim ye, and we’ll sail away to fairer skies and wilder dreams”
“New Start”
By Connor A.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jamila pulled at her sleeves as she walked with Amir on the yacht. “There’s a reason Professor Penn told us to avoid mermaids in our first year.”
“He said nothing about bribing them to keep everyone safe,” Amir pointed out. “Besides, he told us to stay away from vampires, and we know how Jason found out about magic.”
Jamila was stuck on what Amir opened with, “I’m sorry, you bribed the mermaids?”
“I’m not the only one who likes salmon.”
They eventually made it to the main deck where Balthazar, Oboto, Avi, and Jason were playing cards.
Amir smiled as he walked ahead and exclaimed, “Mermaids! The only creatures that have a chance against my beauty!”
“Cut the drama,” Jamila interrupted as she walked in front of him and picked up Amir’s speech. “I want to remind everyone that normal boat safety applies even with subdued mermaids.”
They nodded and went back to their game. With that settled, Amir draped himself over the side while grinning at Jamila, clearly trying to get on her nerves.
About five minutes passed before Jamila looked over and saw several shapes approaching the boat. “It’s time.”
Jason walked over to the side and looked out just as the mermaids breached the water like dolphins.
“What are the odds?” Oboto grinned as she walked over and rested her elbows on the edge. “I didn’t see that until my third year.”
“Guess that’s a good sign for my hormone treatment, then,” Jason said with a small laugh.
The others looked at him in shock. Amir gave more of a reaction, almost slipping on the deck from mere shock alone. “You’re starting?!”
Jason stopped laughing. “I forgot to tell you guys, didn’t I?”
“I think we would have remembered if you told us,” Avi pointed out.
Amir took out his phone and scrolled through it. “I can make this work.”
“Make what work?” Balthazar asked.
“A party for our self-made man, obviously!”
Jason laughed once more as everyone started celebrating the news.
Song Heals All Wounds
By: Frei
The crowd looked like an ocean as I mounted the rickety stage. I felt every painful squeal of the planks underneath my weight groan up through my bones. Surely everyone in the bar heard them, and I felt a few dozen eyes on the back of my head, and a single pair boring into the front.
“The hell are you doing here?” My brother asked, a mix of confusion and a raising defense to his tone, ready to parry anything I was going to reply.
I didn’t oblige his defense, and simply shrugged, unhooking the second of the four microphones off of the stand atop the tiny TV screen. I’d have to break through that armor of his, and I think I knew exactly how.
“Could you play Styx?”
My sibling’s eyes remained locked on me, and I felt them burning a hole in the side of my skull as I turned to the DJ. He got a playful look to his face, as he knew who I was. Whole town knew who I was, and he didn’t need to ask which song to play. Away he went on his search. I turned to face the piercing gaze of my brother, but rather than be met with a hard, pointed spear, he looked more like a pool noodle. His face reddened, and sheen glossed his eyes.
“That’s it then, huh? Just gonna play mom’s song, and that’s gonna make me forget everything?”
The piano notes began, and I smiled. I felt the itch of tears crawling their way up my eyelids. “You stepping off the stage, or are we doing this?” I finally retorted. His guard was down, and it struck him dead in the heart. All I got was a nod, but his feet didn’t move. He turned to look at the blank screen, lyrics ready to start. We looked back to each other several times. We sang our lungs out for each other, for the bar, and for our broken up family; was this hope for us? Was a corny karaoke night the key? Turns out it was.
Flytrap
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)
Jonas was running through the forest, tears in his eyes. Branches snapped at his face, as he held his bruised arm. He could hear the jeering and laughter from behind him.
“Come out, little fish! Come out!”
The cackling intensified. Jonas tried to ignore them, but their words stung deep into his soul.
“I just want to leave”, he whispered, between sobs: “I just want to get away.”
“Hey”, a soft voice said: “Are they being mean to you?”
“Who?” Jonas whirled around.
“Over here”, the voice said: “Follow my voice and we can walk away together. Or sail. Do you like sailing?”
Every fiber in Jonas’ body told him not to. His mind told him not to. But there was an urge in his mind. A desire to be free; to finally be free from bullying and cat-calling and being beaten up every day. A desire that was stoked, grown into a festering plant, with its roots deep in his brain. Every mental defense he had left broke down. Every rational thought was replaced, by a feeling of pure want. He wanted to walk away, sail away. And he wanted to reach that voice to do it.
And so, like a fly attracted to scent, he followed the voice.
Some small part of his mind resisted the tug; resisted the burning urge, which had taken hold of his body.
“Who… Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Cynthia”, she said: “Cynthia Bennett.”
The scent drew the fly closer, forcing it to inch into reach.
He rounded a tree and came face to face with a young girl, not much older than he was. She was in bad shape. She was sitting against a tree, her skin grey and leathery. It looked tattered, like an old suit. Compassion suddenly overcame Jonas. He couldn’t leave her here, no matter who she was. He whirled around, as the jeering grew closer, his eyes off Cynthia.
The Bodythief grinned, as it began to peel itself out of long-dead Cynthia’s skin. Its new host was here. And it had even brought food.
Setting a Stolen Sail
By Mike Collins (Lakemoron)
The pirate Captain directed his crew to tie down the supplies as they load them to distribute the weight in their stolen vessel. His first officer led the acquisition of their new arms off the ship.
The Captain whispered, “Mister Christian, make sure to take as much rope as we can hold… you can never have enough rope.”
The second officer replied, “Aye, aye Captain.”
As the Captain stood watching over their escape, one of his sailors approached, “Captain, sir?”
The Captain said, “Yes, mister… Tweedy?”
Tweedy tried to stand taller, “Sir, the ship’s crew… a couple of them are awake. We dealt with the night crew, but if we go after the crew in the hold.”
The Captain put up his hand, “Absolutely not, we’re leaving under cover of night for a reason, so unless they make themselves into a problem, we leave them be.”
They would fly no flag, sail for no country or kingdom, they will sail for the thrill of the open sea. Their vessel has no name, but a name isn’t as important as the freedom the ship brings, the freedom of a pirate. They lowered the ship and set sail with the wind.
The Captain smiled, “With a strong wind we sail free.”
__
An alarm bell rang out as the sailors woke and ran to the deck. The first officer quickly tallied up the damage, “Captain, the launch is gone along with the minigun, several pistols, and some supplies. We found the deck crew all drunk and passed out.”
No one in the crew saw the helm ropes were cut, as was the rigging for the mainsail.
The Captain growled, “Who’s missing?”
The first officer said, “Captain, no one is missing.”
A call went out from the crow’s nest, “Small vessel to port, sailing away with the wind.”
The first officer looked through his monocular, lowered it down, then picked it back up and looked again.
The Captain asked, “Well, Mister Chadwick, what do you see?”
“Well, Captain sir, it’s the rats. They’ve stolen the launch and are sailing away… Sir.”