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  • The Prisoner

    The prisoner

    The seamen gruffly escorted the prisoner down the gangplank depositing him on the dock below. One removed the shackles from his ankles as the other did the same for the mans wrists. As they returned to the ship one of them spit on the wooden planking and cursed.

    Standing wide legged the man rubbed his wrist and squinted at the bright sun. He had lost 5 stone and his once fine garments had been reduced to a tatter of grimy cloth from the long stay in the ships brig. He had no money, nor prospect of acquiring any. His ships and mansion, along with all his worldly goods had been confiscated to repay the benefactors. His investment in the South Seas company had been complete and it's demise was his ruin.

    Blinking he surveyed the wharf and harbor, it was empty. Produce rotten on the pier as rats scampered from one pile of refuse to another. No great ships lay moored in the bay and only a hand full of fishermen worked their lines. The once proud center of activity had fallen under a dark slumber.

    What had become of this port? What dark shadow had removed it's inhabitancy? The man walked the worn but familiar streets as his footsteps echoing before him. He turned down the alley with the crouched archway. He ascended the narrow stairs that lead to the heavy wooden door with a small peephole bored through it. Standing there he cocked an ear for the laughter and song he so missed. When no sound came to his ears he knocked on the door, once, then twice, then once again and waited. Stepping back he kicked hard at the doors timbers swinging the portal open. It slammed against the back wall coming to rest with a squeak. Only the light from the open threshold shone into the space. Tables and chairs sat like cold solitary reminders of life once so rich with promise. The man strode to the corner that he had once called his own and righted a chair to sit on. He leaned back placing his worn bootheels upon the table before him.

    He sat for many hours, in the back of his mind a small part of him expecting the bright door to be filled with an old friend. He relived the moments now long passed that the room resurrected. But no one came through the door and the room grew darker with the setting sun. A cold chill filled the confines and the tattered prisoner of it's past knew he was no longer a part of what was left. He didn't glance back as he strode out to the darkening streets, that part of his life in the Caribbean was over. He allowed a small smile to cross his lips. Dax Blood had come to these islands with nothing and now he stood again on it's earth with nothing. He had done just fine for himself before, he would do just fine for himself again.

    "Now... to find a ship." he said quietly under his breath.

  • #2
    Cool story

    Nice story bro! Plz keep writing i want to know what happens!!!