Baseball Week continues by requesting that your writing has something to do with: pirates. Inclusion of a four line poem not necessary if you're writing a story that connects throughout this theme week, but feel free to do so if you're able to find a way.
We had a bit of a slower market this morning, as a whole lot of vendors had apricots. We still managed to sell most of them but it was definitely not one of our better ones. Especially with our blackberries just getting started and our current run of raspberries coming to an end.
Looking forward to a day off with my family tomorrow.
Captain Lightning Beard, as he insisted on being called, was never a very popular man among his peers. Or his crew, for that matter. His temper was ferocious and violent, even by pirate standards. He preferred motivation through insults and intimidation rather than encouragement and rewards. Loot was rarely split fairly, if he bothered to share it at all.
So it came to no one's surprise (other than to the captain himself) when his most recent collection of mistreated and unappreciated sailors mutinied and left him stranded on an island no bigger than his former cabin.
Lightning Beard survived his first week by drinking heavily (it's impossible to say with certainty how he was able to sneak a bottle or three off of his ship) and sleeping often. The second week was more of a struggle as hunger and sobriety took hold and the sun did its work with few clouds impeding its glare.
He'd taken to using the hook on his left hand to carve short poems into the sand at his feet. His final verse read as follows:
Me crew be dead,
On that ye can bet;
They be in the ground,
They just don't know it yet.
He sat, arms resting on knees, studying his work for quite some time while the fingers of his good hand combed his bushy black beard with its vivid streaks of white and silver. When he looked up and saw the ship on the horizon he thought he was hallucinating, or had simply gone completely mad.
When he heard the wolves howling, he became certain of it.