A picture says a
thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a #story, a description, a poem, a
metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about
this picture.
Be sure to tag #writeworld in your
block!
http://writeworld.org/post/103633168521/writers-block-a-picture-says-a-thousand-words
The pirate town of Lobo de Mar was
a place of sanctuary. They all needed to fence their goods, sell items off, buy
supplies, and then spend their hard earned coin on women and drink. And of
course, some coin on repairs, new sails and supplies. It only worked if
everyone kept the peace.
And everyone did.
Until... there was a new guy. He
was brash, arrogant, and too sure of his abilities given his age. Most pirates
learned the hardest way. His crew were equally young and inexperienced. But he
had a few lucky breaks and once he had some prizes, a few other crew members
with greater experience came on board and they helped him get greater prizes.
So his recklessness made him
attack an old Danish ship. and he took something he should not have, a small
carved emblem of a cephalopod. He was young and he didn’t believe in ancient
sea creatures.
When he threw the bag of stolen
jewellery onto the fence’s table, the fence sorted through it chatting as he
did so. Then he stopped talking.
“What?” Young Mitch asked.
“Oh no, son. You should not have
taken this.” He held up the emblem.
He looked momentarily unnerved.
“Pfft. You don’t believe that rubbish, do you?”
“How long have you held this?”
He shrugged. “I dunno... a week...
maybe ten days.”
“You fool. Why can you not
listen to your elders?”
“Because they are stupid old men
full of the ridiculous stories of the past.”
The fence’s house was built close
to the quay front. It was about four storeys tall with a large storeroom at the
back. Close to the harbour and the dock was convenient for ships, not so good
for bad weather. But the harbour was protected from most weather events that
was why the pirates used it.
The fence threw the emblem in his
face. “Get rid of it!”
“What?”
“Get on a quick ship and get out
of here as fast as you can.”
Mitch looked flummoxed and then he
laughed. “You don’t believe that-”
The alarm bells went off before he
finished the sentence.
The fence ran to the window and
looked out. Nothing was there yet, but it was coming. He spun to face the
pirate captain. “You have killed us all.”
Mitch paled.
“The kraken,” whispered the fence.
“No! It doesn’t exist.”
“It does.”
Mitch looked at the emblem in his
hand, and then he threw it at the other man. “Take it!”
“It’s already here. You idiot.
Didn’t anyone tell you not to steal that?”
“One of the old guys - but he
didn’t make any sense!”
“You just didn’t believe him.”
Some of the cannier pirates were
abandoning the town for the ships but they were running out of time. The freak
wave crested in the harbour entrance where the water started to shallow out.
Others were running for the higher ground. Out of range.
Reaching out of the water, the
gigantic tentacle wrapped around the first ship. It dipped but bobbed back up
before the tentacle slithered further around it and then started to tighten.
The woodwork groaned, almost screamed as the ship was compressed and then torn
apart. Shards of wood exploded out; tearing through the sides of other ships,
or striking into the buildings around the docks.
“It c-can’t be,” said Mitch. “The
kraken is a myth.”
The enormous body lifted out of
the water as three of its tentacles reached past the ships and towards the
watchtower.
Mitch grabbed the emblem and ran.
He ran towards the creature.
If the fence was right, then this
attracted it, or controlled it. He was hoping it was the latter. He had brought
it here and he was responsible for all the damage and the deaths it caused.
Not that he even knew how
to control it, but he had to try. They were all dead if he didn’t.
Shoving through hysterical people,
he tried to get closer to the water. He clenched his fingers around the emblem
and he shouted, “Stop!” It couldn’t hear him but it seemed to turn towards him.
Maybe it only understood Danish?
But the word for stop was close enough in both languages.
“STOP!”
It stopped.
He almost didn’t believe it. He
pointed back out the harbour entrance. “Forlade!” (leave)
It didn’t want to. It gripped
tighter to the ship it was wound around, snapping it in half.
“Ikke. Forlade. Vente.” (no.
leave. wait.)
It went. But the damage it left
behind was immense.
People looked at him in horror.
They were frightened of him.
He smiled.
It was not a pretty smile.
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