Once upon a time, not long ago and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the images he saw in his head to life in his pictures.
One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling colors and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous dance of creation.
And at last, the painting was complete. It was a picture of a pretty young girl on a swing at a park, with a rosy-cheeked face and sweet brown eyes. She was wonderful.
The Artist stood back to admire his latest masterpiece and smiled in satisfaction. It was very good.
Suddenly he gasped in surprise, for something happened! The girl in his painting...moved!
He rubbed his eyes hard and looked again, but it was true! The girl had frowned for a moment and slipped off the swing.
"Oh dear..." she sighed, running her slender fingers through her chestnut hair and glancing over her shoulder at the other children in the park.
The Artist felt even more surprised to hear her speak aloud, let alone move; but his surprise soon vanished into concern. She seemed to be rather unhappy about something.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Oh nothing. It's just that..." She trailed off and looked down at her shoes, biting her lip.
"That what?"
"I'm not...pretty," she said, a small tear glistening on her painted cheek.
"What on earth do you mean?" asked the Painter, feeling confused. Why would she say a thing like that? She was beautiful!
"I'm not as pretty as they are," she said, looking back over her shoulder at the others in the background and particularly taking notice of another girl with a pale face and golden hair. She looked back at him for a moment then frowned down at her shoes again, unable to look him in the eye. "I think you made some mistakes with me."
"Like what?"
"Well...there's my feet, for one thing. You made them way too big. And my nose must be some kind of joke! It looks so stupid."
The Artist patiently listened as she continued to list all her faults and compare herself to the others he had painted.
"...my eyes are boring, I'm too fat, my legs are...I mean, why couldn't you make me look like that girl over there? She's prettier than me..."
"Stop," he finally said, holding up a hand. "Stop. Look at me."
His voice was so quiet and filled with sadness that she closed her mouth, and had to look at him.
"Listen to me, dear one," he said, "and listen well: I painted you. I created you."
The girl blushed and tried to look away, but instead found her gaze firmly held by his calm gray eyes.
"I chose the color of your hair and eyes," continued the Painter. "I chose the shape of your nose and the length of your arms and legs. I made you. And I believe you are beautiful.
"Yes, the other children I painted are pretty; but not any more or any less than you. They are beautiful simply because I made them each different and wonderful in their own way - just like you."
The Artist lovingly brushed his fingertips over the painting as tears ran down her face.
"You really think I'm beautiful?" she whispered.
"Yes," he answered. "I think you are very beautiful. I am the Artist. I made you - and I don't make mistakes."
"And you know," he added, "it rather hurts my feelings when you say you don't like the way you look, or when you compare yourself to others. I wish you'd instead try to see yourself the way I see you."
"I'm...I'm sorry," the girl murmured, blushing again and dropping her eyes in shame.
"I forgive you," chuckled the Artist. "Gladly and completely. But from now on, I want you to stop putting yourself down and remind yourself more often of how wonderful I think you are. Could you please do that? For me?"
He gave her a small, hopeful smile.
The girl in the painting smiled back at him through her tears, eyes shining with joyful gratitude, and whispered,
"I guess I can try."
~ The End ~
Psalm 139:13-14 "For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made."
Monday, April 25, 2011
Long year
It had been a long year, I thought as I look at my big brother. He looks so broken, all covered in tubes and needles. I want to rip them out of his wrists and take him home. I want him to play with me and laugh like he used to.
My little brother stands in the doorway of my hospital room. I hate to see him cry. He looks so alone.
He blinks through his tears and looks at me mournfully, "Mum and Dad say there's a way for me to help you."
I feel a rush of adrenalin and look away from him, watching my heart rate spike on the monitor. I don't want him to help me; he's in enough pain already. I won't allow them to put him through surgery with false hope, just because it might change my prognosis.
Realizing that he's still watching me with tears on his cheeks, I look back. "No," I say, trying to be strong but my voice trembles.
I don't want him to know how scared I am.
He thinks he's so strong, but I know the truth. He shivers in his sleep and whispers prayers when he thinks I'm not listening.
He blinks again and tears land on his faded jeans, which used to be mine. I pretend that his tears are enough for both of us, and hug him silently while he shakes in my arms.
I feel so weak.
With every beat of his heart against my cheek, I become more and more determined to change this. I'll give anything just to have him back.
"I love you," he whispers, and my heart breaks into a million pieces.
My little brother stands in the doorway of my hospital room. I hate to see him cry. He looks so alone.
He blinks through his tears and looks at me mournfully, "Mum and Dad say there's a way for me to help you."
I feel a rush of adrenalin and look away from him, watching my heart rate spike on the monitor. I don't want him to help me; he's in enough pain already. I won't allow them to put him through surgery with false hope, just because it might change my prognosis.
Realizing that he's still watching me with tears on his cheeks, I look back. "No," I say, trying to be strong but my voice trembles.
I don't want him to know how scared I am.
He thinks he's so strong, but I know the truth. He shivers in his sleep and whispers prayers when he thinks I'm not listening.
He blinks again and tears land on his faded jeans, which used to be mine. I pretend that his tears are enough for both of us, and hug him silently while he shakes in my arms.
I feel so weak.
With every beat of his heart against my cheek, I become more and more determined to change this. I'll give anything just to have him back.
"I love you," he whispers, and my heart breaks into a million pieces.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Genius
They tell her parents that she is a genius. She can hear them talking with the doctor, a specialist Daddy said she was called, in low voices. The doctor is nice, an older lady with a little bowl of chocolate kisses on her desk. And games. And books. Lots of books. She even had Harry Potter and was really impressed when Amelia told the Doctor that she had already read the first two, on her own. The Doctor had her play a computer game. It was boring. She told the Doctor that too, after the twentieth question. The Doctor just smiled and said that Amelia could play with whatever toy she wanted or read whatever book she wanted to if she finished the game. Amelia did. And the Doctor let her take the third Harry Potter book home with her.
That was a month ago. The Doctor called two days ago and Amelia went in to see her with Mommy and Daddy. They don't let her come in this time. She sits outside, on a scratchy chair and then presses her ear to the door, spying, with her invisibility cloak. Just like Harry. She can't hear too much. But she hears genius. And she knows it means someone who is really smart, kinda like Hermione. She gets scared because the way her Mommy and Daddy and the Doctor sound, it makes her scared. She isn't sure why, because no one sounds angry or sad. She goes back to her seat and sits, patiently, until the Doctor opens the door and tells her to come in. She scrambles into Mommy's lap, even though she getting too big, and the Doctor starts telling her that she is very bright and special. Much more special than other kids her age. Her Mommy nods as she strokes Amelia's red hair.
And she knows that because everyone in her class is still reading picture books and Amelia Bedealia and sometimes even the teachers read to them, while she sits at the back and does what her mommy calls "staring into space". She used to enjoy those books but only because Amelia had the same name as her, but Amelia Bedealia made slot of mistakes that she would not have made.
The Doctor says that Mommy and Daddy want to take her out of school and take her to another school, or even have her go to school at home. She says that it isn't good that Amelia feels lonely at school, because she should have friends that she can play with and read with. And having friends would be really, really nice, because at school, in the back of the room, no one talks to her and the other kids make fun of her at recess because she always raises her hand and cries sometimes and still sucks her thumb. She nods and her Mommy unwraps a chocolate kiss and gives it to her. She lets it melt in her mouth, the sweetness stinging the back of her throat.
The Doctor says that Amelia is what people call "a genius". And she asks Amelia if she knows what that means and Amelia nods and pops her thumb into her mouth. Her daddy interrupts and says
"Being a genius doesn't make you a bad person, there is nothing wrong with you." He nods while her Mommy says,
"Of course not." Amelia sucks her thumb and leans against her mommy's neck and shoulder.
The doctor nods and says "There is nothing wrong with being a genius."
But Amelia can't really believe them.
That was a month ago. The Doctor called two days ago and Amelia went in to see her with Mommy and Daddy. They don't let her come in this time. She sits outside, on a scratchy chair and then presses her ear to the door, spying, with her invisibility cloak. Just like Harry. She can't hear too much. But she hears genius. And she knows it means someone who is really smart, kinda like Hermione. She gets scared because the way her Mommy and Daddy and the Doctor sound, it makes her scared. She isn't sure why, because no one sounds angry or sad. She goes back to her seat and sits, patiently, until the Doctor opens the door and tells her to come in. She scrambles into Mommy's lap, even though she getting too big, and the Doctor starts telling her that she is very bright and special. Much more special than other kids her age. Her Mommy nods as she strokes Amelia's red hair.
And she knows that because everyone in her class is still reading picture books and Amelia Bedealia and sometimes even the teachers read to them, while she sits at the back and does what her mommy calls "staring into space". She used to enjoy those books but only because Amelia had the same name as her, but Amelia Bedealia made slot of mistakes that she would not have made.
The Doctor says that Mommy and Daddy want to take her out of school and take her to another school, or even have her go to school at home. She says that it isn't good that Amelia feels lonely at school, because she should have friends that she can play with and read with. And having friends would be really, really nice, because at school, in the back of the room, no one talks to her and the other kids make fun of her at recess because she always raises her hand and cries sometimes and still sucks her thumb. She nods and her Mommy unwraps a chocolate kiss and gives it to her. She lets it melt in her mouth, the sweetness stinging the back of her throat.
The Doctor says that Amelia is what people call "a genius". And she asks Amelia if she knows what that means and Amelia nods and pops her thumb into her mouth. Her daddy interrupts and says
"Being a genius doesn't make you a bad person, there is nothing wrong with you." He nods while her Mommy says,
"Of course not." Amelia sucks her thumb and leans against her mommy's neck and shoulder.
The doctor nods and says "There is nothing wrong with being a genius."
But Amelia can't really believe them.
First Trip To England
England
It is my fourth time on an airplane. As the other three times, I feel woozy and almost disoriented at take-off, and despite my intention to read the book I bought at the airport I find myself unable to. For a moment, I wonder whether I am fainting, but a few deep breaths later I feel somewhat better.
The clouds below look like solid snow; one can almost imagine people sliding down, down, down, only to walk back to the top again in an endless circle.
At times, I think I can see the sea, but if I am to be honest, I would rather not see it. Even though I’m not afraid of flying – perhaps I should be, but such is the arrogance of mankind: we do not doubt our technology – seeing the clouds and knowing we are above them is quite a difference from knowing how far up we are.
The clouds look more like foam, or perhaps cream, now. Sometimes the wings cut through the ones farthest up, and I see them skimming on the surface of the wings; like water on a stone when the tide comes rushing in. Tendrils of white spread out like waves on sand.
If there is one thing I love about flying, it is the way white foam surf along the surface of the wings, like the steam from my tea cup.
I imagine sitting on the edge of that wing: tiny water droplets clinging to my skin, hair, my clothes. The cold, cold air rushing through me. For a moment, I can almost see her – red hair whirling, scarf pulling on her neck, but she looks free, exuberant.
We are flying like the birds we wanted to, yet we are caged.
My head acts up again when we descend a little. It feels strange, almost like a power outage. The clouds look like a sea of thoughts and memories.
The girl has gone – to join them, perhaps. Perhaps she is sitting on the wing of the airplane I can see to my left, barely more than a few millimeters in length at this distance. And perhaps I will see her on the wing, next time, as we are carried across the sea.
I can see the reflection of clouds on the wing’s surface, now. They look no more than shadows, but the sun creates a marvelous effect – and it is in moments like these I imagine sitting on Falcon’s back, being carried away in a story of no end.
An eternity of clouds stretches in front of me. They are white, opaque, as no man (or woman) should know their future. Sometimes clouds above cast shadows on us, other times we catch a glimpse of the world, of reality.
I close my eyes.
It is my fourth time on an airplane. As the other three times, I feel woozy and almost disoriented at take-off, and despite my intention to read the book I bought at the airport I find myself unable to. For a moment, I wonder whether I am fainting, but a few deep breaths later I feel somewhat better.
The clouds below look like solid snow; one can almost imagine people sliding down, down, down, only to walk back to the top again in an endless circle.
At times, I think I can see the sea, but if I am to be honest, I would rather not see it. Even though I’m not afraid of flying – perhaps I should be, but such is the arrogance of mankind: we do not doubt our technology – seeing the clouds and knowing we are above them is quite a difference from knowing how far up we are.
The clouds look more like foam, or perhaps cream, now. Sometimes the wings cut through the ones farthest up, and I see them skimming on the surface of the wings; like water on a stone when the tide comes rushing in. Tendrils of white spread out like waves on sand.
If there is one thing I love about flying, it is the way white foam surf along the surface of the wings, like the steam from my tea cup.
I imagine sitting on the edge of that wing: tiny water droplets clinging to my skin, hair, my clothes. The cold, cold air rushing through me. For a moment, I can almost see her – red hair whirling, scarf pulling on her neck, but she looks free, exuberant.
We are flying like the birds we wanted to, yet we are caged.
My head acts up again when we descend a little. It feels strange, almost like a power outage. The clouds look like a sea of thoughts and memories.
The girl has gone – to join them, perhaps. Perhaps she is sitting on the wing of the airplane I can see to my left, barely more than a few millimeters in length at this distance. And perhaps I will see her on the wing, next time, as we are carried across the sea.
I can see the reflection of clouds on the wing’s surface, now. They look no more than shadows, but the sun creates a marvelous effect – and it is in moments like these I imagine sitting on Falcon’s back, being carried away in a story of no end.
An eternity of clouds stretches in front of me. They are white, opaque, as no man (or woman) should know their future. Sometimes clouds above cast shadows on us, other times we catch a glimpse of the world, of reality.
I close my eyes.
We Need To Talk
Look we need to talk. Hello. It’s me again; your shoe. What, you don’t remember our earlier conversations? Really? Well I suppose we can get around to discussing your alarmingly short memory span some other time, but I have a bone to pick with you now. I honestly don’t feel like you appreciate me to the extent that I deserve. Have I not served you faithfully since the day you picked me from the shelf? Aside from the blister or two that your heals acquired, and believe me I do apologize for that. At first I was ecstatic that my twin and I were selected out of the many other options to work with you, but I’ve now come to the conclusion that I should have been despairing rather than joyous. Forgive me if I sound rude, I’m just trying to get a few things off of my chest (it’s just a figure of speech, don’t take it seriously).
I must admit that while I find it so enjoyable to be viciously stomped on all day, I don’t exactly want to be thrown willy-nilly across the room when you are finished with me. Your feet are cramped from the confinement and you wish to free them. I feel for you, truthfully I do. However, it is rather frightening to shoot through the air, usually to collide with something much denser than I am, and land some distance away from my twin. Who else am I going to chat with while you’re gone? A dust bunny? I don’t think so. Also, your ‘casual toss’ is an alarming acceleration to one who isn’t accustomed to moving without a foot to propel them. Please, I beg of you, just slip us off and set us gently in a place where you’ll remember us.
This next issue may sound a little harsh, but it is the most important to me, and I want to be very clear about it. I am required to put up with your disgusting feet day after day, and yet you have the audacity to be frustrated with the way I smell. That putrid stench that I have is your fault, I’ll have you know! I don’t care if you shower twice a day; if you don’t send me through a washing machine once in a while, I’m not exactly going to smell like a bed of roses. I enjoy being clean, it means I can attract more positive attention (alright, I admit it, I am vain).
Finally, I want to discuss retirement. When I am falling apart at my seams and drooping from extensive wear, I would rather not go out with the next load of trash. Don’t you dare give me that innocent look; the socks told me what happened to my predecessors. I want to be rewarded for my service to you, not shunned away as if I meant nothing. I do not mind that you will replace me some day, I just want to be cherished even if I am no longer useful. Is that asking too much? Am I being too forward for your liking? I’m positive that you would want the same if you were in my shoes. See, I can crack a joke even if I’m upset. That does not in any way imply that the issue is not important to me. I just want to relate to you. I’m rambling, aren’t I? Moving on…
I sincerely hope that you will remember what I’ve said this time, and take my requests into consideration. I won’t get my hopes up in any case. You will probably just dismiss this as your psychotic brain hallucinating on you once again due to the stress levels of school, or your job, or whatever it is that you do now. I am at the point where I just enjoy the ranting, and the expression on your face when you realize your shoe is talking to you. I suppose I can cross my laces and dream of a day when you will be more gracious to me or any of the generations of shoes that will come after me. I am a little cranky, but I feel that I have been generous, and I would like for you to return the favor.
I must admit that while I find it so enjoyable to be viciously stomped on all day, I don’t exactly want to be thrown willy-nilly across the room when you are finished with me. Your feet are cramped from the confinement and you wish to free them. I feel for you, truthfully I do. However, it is rather frightening to shoot through the air, usually to collide with something much denser than I am, and land some distance away from my twin. Who else am I going to chat with while you’re gone? A dust bunny? I don’t think so. Also, your ‘casual toss’ is an alarming acceleration to one who isn’t accustomed to moving without a foot to propel them. Please, I beg of you, just slip us off and set us gently in a place where you’ll remember us.
This next issue may sound a little harsh, but it is the most important to me, and I want to be very clear about it. I am required to put up with your disgusting feet day after day, and yet you have the audacity to be frustrated with the way I smell. That putrid stench that I have is your fault, I’ll have you know! I don’t care if you shower twice a day; if you don’t send me through a washing machine once in a while, I’m not exactly going to smell like a bed of roses. I enjoy being clean, it means I can attract more positive attention (alright, I admit it, I am vain).
Finally, I want to discuss retirement. When I am falling apart at my seams and drooping from extensive wear, I would rather not go out with the next load of trash. Don’t you dare give me that innocent look; the socks told me what happened to my predecessors. I want to be rewarded for my service to you, not shunned away as if I meant nothing. I do not mind that you will replace me some day, I just want to be cherished even if I am no longer useful. Is that asking too much? Am I being too forward for your liking? I’m positive that you would want the same if you were in my shoes. See, I can crack a joke even if I’m upset. That does not in any way imply that the issue is not important to me. I just want to relate to you. I’m rambling, aren’t I? Moving on…
I sincerely hope that you will remember what I’ve said this time, and take my requests into consideration. I won’t get my hopes up in any case. You will probably just dismiss this as your psychotic brain hallucinating on you once again due to the stress levels of school, or your job, or whatever it is that you do now. I am at the point where I just enjoy the ranting, and the expression on your face when you realize your shoe is talking to you. I suppose I can cross my laces and dream of a day when you will be more gracious to me or any of the generations of shoes that will come after me. I am a little cranky, but I feel that I have been generous, and I would like for you to return the favor.
The Pirate
The waves crashed against the side of the ship, as the rain beet down on the deck. The crew, at my orders, were trying their hardest to navigate out of the storm.
"Captain Tennant, Sir, excuse me, but could you join us at the helm?" My second mate John said as he came into my quarters. I grabbed my hat with a long black feather in it, and put it on top of my short brown hair. Taking my jacket I walked out onto the deck.
The rain had come down to a light drizzle and the waves had stopped crashing against the side of the ship. I followed behind Barrowman, as I called John, we walked across the deck to the helm. I could tell all of my crew went to hide because they were no where to be seen. Waiting there was John Simm, who we called the Master, because he was in charge of the helm and navigation.
"Captain, the storm has brought us close to the shore, and we have to dock." Master said as I approached.
"Why must we dock?" I replied. "I have no need to stop here in England."
"We have no more food for the crew sir," Barrowman said.
"That is no problem of mine." I replied annoyed that they had interrupted me for this. "If you need food go and get it."
"Sir we have to have your permission to dock since you are wanted for piracy in England." Barrowman said.
"If you need food then you can go and get it." I said yet again. To emphasize my point I grabbed the Master by the scruff of the neck and shoved him off the side of the ship and he splashed into the water.
"Sorry sir we meant not to offend." Barrowman said, putting his hands up for defense. I reached for my sword and pulled it out, pointing it at his face. "It is time you left anyway and returned to your parents. You belong on land not at sea. I will see you around John."
He got the hint and took his hat saying goodbye before he jumped into the water and left. I stood up at the helm and watched as they swam away. It was time they left I needed a new crew they were far to soft for me. I needed a crew that was tough and could withstand all things. I was one of the most ruthless pirates on the seas. I needed a crew who was the same.
From below the mast came my most loyal crew member. She was a girl who was as tough as any man. She took charge but still did what was necessary to keep my ship going. She was swabbing the deck trying to get all of the water off of it by sloshing it down the sides.
"You have just been promoted to my first mate." I yelled down to her.
"Oh have I?" She asked sarcastically as she kept mopping.
"Yes you have you are also now in charge of the helm." I said and she just looked at me flabbergasted. "Now I am going back to my quarters and I expect you get the rest of the crew in order. I would also like supper ready for me by sundown. Tell all of those who are afraid that they haven't seen anything as of yet. NOW GET TO WORK ALL OF YOU!"
I yelled the last part to my crew who I knew had listened to all that had happened. The smallest one either a little girl or boy not sure which sprung up and cried, and crawled on the floor swabbing the deck. I turned and walked away my boots clanking on the wood below my feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later I was called to supper. I sat and had my meal placed in front of me. It was corned beef and cabbage. I hated corn beef and cabbage. I picked my plate up and threw it across the room.
"How dare you feed this to me!" I yelled at the woman who had served me. I stood and walked to my quarters and stood there fuming for a bit. I have told them this before yet they repeatedly make stupid mistakes. I heard a knock at my door but ignored it. A man walked in I knew he worked for me but I did not know what he did.
"Would you follow me?" He asked and without waiting for a response turned and left. I stood from the chair I had sat down in and followed him. He led me to the far corner of the ship where there was another woman waiting. She had a smile on her face and there behind her was a plank. I stopped dead in my tracks they planned on throwing me overboard.
The man grabbed me by the arms and took off my hat, coat and boots as he pushed me toward the edge. This was mutiny my crew was turning against me.
"Mutiny, I tell you this is wrong!" I yelled as I tried to run take out my sword which I then noticed the man had also taken from me. As I yelled the rest of my crew came out to see what was going on. "How dare you all turn against me, I am Captain David Tennant!"
"Yes yes no one cares now get just get in."One of my crew members said from behind me.
"Now go jump in the water," The lady I had made my new first mate, said as she pushed me into the swirling blue abyss below.
I fell in with a splash. I swam back up to the surface my hair sticking to my face as I looked up at the side of the ship. I could hear the crew cheering saying finally their plan worked. They had no doubt been planning this for a long time. Oh well I thought I could get a better ship and a much better crew as soon as I make it to shore. I was glad now that I had no clothes to weigh me down as I started swimming.
The shore was not to far away from where I was now swimming so I decided to get a move on before it started to rain again. As I swam there were fish swimming along next to me. I tried to grab one but it was too slippery and swam right out of my hands. As I neared shore the fish left me but now I had something else to deal with, the waves. They crashed over me soaking me all the more.
I was a few dozen yards from shore when I was suddenly caught in a rip tide. All of the foam from the waves surrounding me as I was pulled into the watery depths. There was water swirling around me it took all of my strength to swim out of it. I was exhausted by the time I ended up on the white shore there was soft sand beneath my feet and I realized I was freezing.
I saw someone approaching in the distance. It was a man he had a kind sort of face and look slightly old. As he neared me he started to laugh. I began to get angry at this man. How dare he laugh at me while I was standing here cold, naked, and wet. He was carrying a blanket which he then handed to me.
"Here you are lad dry yourself off," I had not heard anyone call me lad in years. I was very young only around twenty five but I had inherited my ship and crew from my father when he died. I was used to being called captain, used to being in charge! I took the blanket though and wrapped it around myself as the old man gripped my should and walked me to his home, a little cabin about half a mile from shore.
Once there he got me some clothes and said I could stay the night in the guest room. I accepted knowing I I could not make it to my own home tonight, seeing as I had no idea where I was. As I drifted to sleep it occurred to me that maybe I did not have to be a pirate, I owned a home after all. Plus being on land felt good after spending almost my entire life at sea. Of course if I decided to not be a pirate I would still have to deal with the law and being wanted to piracy, but I had enough money to pay that debt off. Oh well, I thought to myself as my eyelids became heavy, I can figure out what I want to do next once I have had a good sleep.
"Captain Tennant, Sir, excuse me, but could you join us at the helm?" My second mate John said as he came into my quarters. I grabbed my hat with a long black feather in it, and put it on top of my short brown hair. Taking my jacket I walked out onto the deck.
The rain had come down to a light drizzle and the waves had stopped crashing against the side of the ship. I followed behind Barrowman, as I called John, we walked across the deck to the helm. I could tell all of my crew went to hide because they were no where to be seen. Waiting there was John Simm, who we called the Master, because he was in charge of the helm and navigation.
"Captain, the storm has brought us close to the shore, and we have to dock." Master said as I approached.
"Why must we dock?" I replied. "I have no need to stop here in England."
"We have no more food for the crew sir," Barrowman said.
"That is no problem of mine." I replied annoyed that they had interrupted me for this. "If you need food go and get it."
"Sir we have to have your permission to dock since you are wanted for piracy in England." Barrowman said.
"If you need food then you can go and get it." I said yet again. To emphasize my point I grabbed the Master by the scruff of the neck and shoved him off the side of the ship and he splashed into the water.
"Sorry sir we meant not to offend." Barrowman said, putting his hands up for defense. I reached for my sword and pulled it out, pointing it at his face. "It is time you left anyway and returned to your parents. You belong on land not at sea. I will see you around John."
He got the hint and took his hat saying goodbye before he jumped into the water and left. I stood up at the helm and watched as they swam away. It was time they left I needed a new crew they were far to soft for me. I needed a crew that was tough and could withstand all things. I was one of the most ruthless pirates on the seas. I needed a crew who was the same.
From below the mast came my most loyal crew member. She was a girl who was as tough as any man. She took charge but still did what was necessary to keep my ship going. She was swabbing the deck trying to get all of the water off of it by sloshing it down the sides.
"You have just been promoted to my first mate." I yelled down to her.
"Oh have I?" She asked sarcastically as she kept mopping.
"Yes you have you are also now in charge of the helm." I said and she just looked at me flabbergasted. "Now I am going back to my quarters and I expect you get the rest of the crew in order. I would also like supper ready for me by sundown. Tell all of those who are afraid that they haven't seen anything as of yet. NOW GET TO WORK ALL OF YOU!"
I yelled the last part to my crew who I knew had listened to all that had happened. The smallest one either a little girl or boy not sure which sprung up and cried, and crawled on the floor swabbing the deck. I turned and walked away my boots clanking on the wood below my feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later I was called to supper. I sat and had my meal placed in front of me. It was corned beef and cabbage. I hated corn beef and cabbage. I picked my plate up and threw it across the room.
"How dare you feed this to me!" I yelled at the woman who had served me. I stood and walked to my quarters and stood there fuming for a bit. I have told them this before yet they repeatedly make stupid mistakes. I heard a knock at my door but ignored it. A man walked in I knew he worked for me but I did not know what he did.
"Would you follow me?" He asked and without waiting for a response turned and left. I stood from the chair I had sat down in and followed him. He led me to the far corner of the ship where there was another woman waiting. She had a smile on her face and there behind her was a plank. I stopped dead in my tracks they planned on throwing me overboard.
The man grabbed me by the arms and took off my hat, coat and boots as he pushed me toward the edge. This was mutiny my crew was turning against me.
"Mutiny, I tell you this is wrong!" I yelled as I tried to run take out my sword which I then noticed the man had also taken from me. As I yelled the rest of my crew came out to see what was going on. "How dare you all turn against me, I am Captain David Tennant!"
"Yes yes no one cares now get just get in."One of my crew members said from behind me.
"Now go jump in the water," The lady I had made my new first mate, said as she pushed me into the swirling blue abyss below.
I fell in with a splash. I swam back up to the surface my hair sticking to my face as I looked up at the side of the ship. I could hear the crew cheering saying finally their plan worked. They had no doubt been planning this for a long time. Oh well I thought I could get a better ship and a much better crew as soon as I make it to shore. I was glad now that I had no clothes to weigh me down as I started swimming.
The shore was not to far away from where I was now swimming so I decided to get a move on before it started to rain again. As I swam there were fish swimming along next to me. I tried to grab one but it was too slippery and swam right out of my hands. As I neared shore the fish left me but now I had something else to deal with, the waves. They crashed over me soaking me all the more.
I was a few dozen yards from shore when I was suddenly caught in a rip tide. All of the foam from the waves surrounding me as I was pulled into the watery depths. There was water swirling around me it took all of my strength to swim out of it. I was exhausted by the time I ended up on the white shore there was soft sand beneath my feet and I realized I was freezing.
I saw someone approaching in the distance. It was a man he had a kind sort of face and look slightly old. As he neared me he started to laugh. I began to get angry at this man. How dare he laugh at me while I was standing here cold, naked, and wet. He was carrying a blanket which he then handed to me.
"Here you are lad dry yourself off," I had not heard anyone call me lad in years. I was very young only around twenty five but I had inherited my ship and crew from my father when he died. I was used to being called captain, used to being in charge! I took the blanket though and wrapped it around myself as the old man gripped my should and walked me to his home, a little cabin about half a mile from shore.
Once there he got me some clothes and said I could stay the night in the guest room. I accepted knowing I I could not make it to my own home tonight, seeing as I had no idea where I was. As I drifted to sleep it occurred to me that maybe I did not have to be a pirate, I owned a home after all. Plus being on land felt good after spending almost my entire life at sea. Of course if I decided to not be a pirate I would still have to deal with the law and being wanted to piracy, but I had enough money to pay that debt off. Oh well, I thought to myself as my eyelids became heavy, I can figure out what I want to do next once I have had a good sleep.
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