Today we're writing something that takes place: inside the fort.
Kat has been battling what has come to be known around here as The Jamaica Flu ever since we got back. Now that she's starting to get a bit better, it's obviously my turn. I've been fighting it off for the last few days but it's starting to wear me down. Hopefully a good sleep tonight will help.
Anyway, back to the fun in Jamaica. While we were in Kingston my aunt and uncle took us out to Port Royal (the link is definitely worth the read if you want to learn some pirate history), where we had a little tour of Fort Charles:
I'm the sort of guy who just has to climb up something like that the moment I spot it. So here's the view from up top:
And a shot along the barrel of one of the many cannons:
It was an interesting place, but the sun was out and there was little shade to be found so we had to get out of there a littler sooner that I would have liked. Still with me? All right, let's get to writing.
Their enemies at the walls
And their supplies running low,
They gathered in the courtyard,
Lit by the moon's ghostly glow.
No one called for surrender,
Not a tear dared to appear.
They agreed to one last charge
Into death's arms with a sneer.
The drawbridge lowered at dawn
And every last soul poured out;
With swords and daggers held high,They left this world with a shout.