Help from a pirate?

My eyes snapped open. It was early morning, the sun hadn’t risen yet, but the cell was lightening.  Someone was trying keys in my cell lock. I hadn’t been fully asleep. It was too cold to actually sleep. The mist rolling off the sea every night seemed to bruise my bones even further than the hard cobble stone ground. I was in a cell awaiting my verdict, I had no Idea where I was, and it didn’t matter because I didn’t even know who I was.

The cell door cracked open and in stepped a tall man. In one hand was a ring of keys and in the other a sword which left no room for a meal. It’s been two nights and three days since my last meal. The meal consisted of an onion potato watery broth and a small bread roll. They were trying to starve me or maybe they were just cruel.

Maybe he had come to take me to my death. My mind began to race with alternatives. Maybe I could plead for my life or maybe I could fight my way past him. I’m not sure how far I would get, but it would be better then not trying.

He walked into the dawn light and that’s when I stopped breathing. With a dirty long coat, high boots, and layering of a red sash around the waist, the man before me was a pirate.

He smiled or grimaced, I’m not sure, but it was probably because I was shocked to see he had all his teeth.  There were many toothless people running around these parts.

The pirate cleared his voice and said, “He was right ’bout ye, but if ye ready to be off now ’tis the hour.”

Who? Who knew about me, I woke up three weeks ago in this strange land with no memories. I didn’t know my own name and I was all alone.

“Who are you talking about?”

“We can speak ’bout that later. Right now we hurry or did ye want to die here?”

I raised my hands from my lap. The shackles clinked and slid down my raw forearms. “What about these,” I asked. The sun was beginning to rise and I could see his eyes were a jade green. He was good looking in this dim light, but as he got closer his stenches were overpowering. The dirt, grime, old booze, and faint smell of dried blood forced me to back up against the wall.

“Don’t be a-feared lass, I won’t hurt ye.”

“I’m not afraid, you just really smell.”

“If ’tis a problem I’d gladly just be off,” he said.

The things you put up with for food…and freedom. I raised the shackles again and he got to work. He also kept mumbling to himself. I think he said something about an ungrateful wench, but I wasn’t sure.

Chapter one~Part One.

So, I jumped the gun and poste a poorly written draft of this yesterday. I was just so excited to share this new idea, but the first draft was riddled with too much back story. I will try to be more patient in the future!

-Katie

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