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And the Lights Go Out-SOF2023-Writer
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And the Lights Go Out
John “The Dread Pirate” Murkin could finally rest. It had been a harrowing adventure this last voyage. Sailing up an unmapped, mist shrouded river into the deep, dark jungles of Africa. Unknown bestial calls echoing through the leafy veils of a primordial forest that put First Mate Petey on edge. They anchored the ship offshore of a small village, just a handful of tiny straw huts with nearly naked natives jumping around waving spears and yelling unintelligently. It was apparent to John that this tribe had never seen a “civilized “man, not that most people would consider The Dread Pirate civilized. The ship was low on provisions so it was decided that the Captain and First Mate would go ashore, attempt a parlay and initiate trade with them.
John stood at the bow of the small landing boat heading to shore, arms casually outstretched, palms open, a broad, disarming smile on his face, pearly teeth contrasting against his dark skin. Unquestioningly brave and fiercely loyal, Petey growled low in his throat behind his Captain. He didn’t like this, not at all, but he loved his Captain and would follow him to Hell with a cask of rum under each arm. The captain was dressed in his finest boots, breeches and coat. Double rows of flintlocks running down his broad chest, his cutlass swinging on his left hip and the tallest captain’s hat with beautiful ostrich plumes perched atop his head. Other than the sweat running down his dark, close cropped scalp John seemed unperturbed at the prospect of facing probable doom.
As the Dread Pirate and his First Mate strode on shore they were immediately surrounded by a horde of natives, easily twice as many as was first seen from the ship. They seemed to materialize from the misty fauna that shrouded the interior of the beachhead. John figured the main village must lie behind the large, broad leaves of the jungle and these small huts comprised an outpost of sorts. John spoke with a soft, reassuring voice that they meant no harm and needed provisions: salt pork, fruits if they had them as scurvy was breaking out in the crew but leafy greens will do and fresh water. The savages were enthralled with the young giant, stroking the mohair captain’s coat, prodding his boots with the butt of their spears and swatting playfully at the ostrich feathers from his hat. John was born dark, made darker from years of plundering the seas under the burning sun but the ebony natives before him made John feel nearly as pale as a white man. Whereas John was compactly built, heavily muscled with the shoulders of a blacksmith, the lithe waist of a dancer and legs like oak tree trunks, these people were long, lean and tall, though the tallest were nearly a full head shorter that John. Suddenly, without warning, the savages jumped on the pirate, bearing down on him, driving him towards the ground. He heard Petey yelp as his face pressed into the sand and thought to himself that there will be a reckoning as darkness consumed him.
The sickening smell of cooking meat awoke John with its nauseating aroma. John was on his knees, hands between his legs with supple green cordage wrapped around his wrists, a spike in the middle driven deep into the ground. The savage tasked with guarding the pirate was distracted by Petey roasting on the pit, back turned to John as he salivated in anticipation of the meal to come. John got his feet under him, squatting like a frog and started to pull with the strength of his mighty legs. The seams of his breeches and shoulders of his coat started to pull apart as his muscles rippled with exertion, veins near to bursting in his neck and on his face, John felt the spike start to drag upwards through the sandy soil. There would be a reckoning, oh yes, these savages would know why he is THE DREAD PIRATE! The guard never knew what happened as the spike entered the back of his skull, to protrude from his forehead making him look like some ebony unicorn. Dread Pirate Murkin drew a pistol into each hand and stepped forward towards the cannibals. Eight flintlocks, eight shots, eight dead savages. The bloodlust was high in John as he drew his cutlass, grinned a ferocious smile and waded into the butchers work at hand. Eleven natives were down before they even realized that the Devil was among them, whirling like a dervish, a whirlwind of fine steel weaving a tapestry of death. John spun around seeking another foe for his notched red blade amidst the cloven skulls and spurting stumps only to find the battle over seemly as soon as it had begun. As the red fog of murderous rage began to dissipate from the pirate’s eyes, he noticed the surrounding foliage begin shaking and rustling. John dropped his cutlass and took off at a dead run for the beach, boots kicking up plumes of sand as he sprinted for the beach. The jungle erupted as wave after wave of ebony warriors burst forth to give chase, baying like bloodhounds, spears whistling through the air seeking soft flesh. Coat and hat long gone, breeches and tunic in tatters, bloodied from a dozen wounds that would’ve felled a lesser man, the Dread Pirate Murkin dove headfirst into the crocodile infested waters and struck out towards the ship with long powerful strokes, leaving the howling savages impotently waving their spears on shore.
The chambermaid was laying out clean clothes as John wearily pulled himself into bed, exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open.
“Looks like you had a big day today, Johnny.” She said, “Planning another tomorrow?”
“Yes ma’am” he replied as Petey, the terrier, curled into a ball at the boy’s feet softly snored.
“Okay then. Get some good sleep then.” She leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. “Love you baby.”
“Love you too, Mom.” Said Johnny through a yawn.
Tomorrow, Ship’s Commander John “Blaze” Murkin and his trusty First Mate Pete would launch the first manned flight to Planet X. They would be the first humans to interact with an interstellar species. Who knows what dangers await? As John’s eyelids grew heavier his mother reached for the switch…and the lights go out.
The end.
John “The Dread Pirate” Murkin could finally rest. It had been a harrowing adventure this last voyage. Sailing up an unmapped, mist shrouded river into the deep, dark jungles of Africa. Unknown bestial calls echoing through the leafy veils of a primordial forest that put First Mate Petey on edge. They anchored the ship offshore of a small village, just a handful of tiny straw huts with nearly naked natives jumping around waving spears and yelling unintelligently. It was apparent to John that this tribe had never seen a “civilized “man, not that most people would consider The Dread Pirate civilized. The ship was low on provisions so it was decided that the Captain and First Mate would go ashore, attempt a parlay and initiate trade with them.
John stood at the bow of the small landing boat heading to shore, arms casually outstretched, palms open, a broad, disarming smile on his face, pearly teeth contrasting against his dark skin. Unquestioningly brave and fiercely loyal, Petey growled low in his throat behind his Captain. He didn’t like this, not at all, but he loved his Captain and would follow him to Hell with a cask of rum under each arm. The captain was dressed in his finest boots, breeches and coat. Double rows of flintlocks running down his broad chest, his cutlass swinging on his left hip and the tallest captain’s hat with beautiful ostrich plumes perched atop his head. Other than the sweat running down his dark, close cropped scalp John seemed unperturbed at the prospect of facing probable doom.
As the Dread Pirate and his First Mate strode on shore they were immediately surrounded by a horde of natives, easily twice as many as was first seen from the ship. They seemed to materialize from the misty fauna that shrouded the interior of the beachhead. John figured the main village must lie behind the large, broad leaves of the jungle and these small huts comprised an outpost of sorts. John spoke with a soft, reassuring voice that they meant no harm and needed provisions: salt pork, fruits if they had them as scurvy was breaking out in the crew but leafy greens will do and fresh water. The savages were enthralled with the young giant, stroking the mohair captain’s coat, prodding his boots with the butt of their spears and swatting playfully at the ostrich feathers from his hat. John was born dark, made darker from years of plundering the seas under the burning sun but the ebony natives before him made John feel nearly as pale as a white man. Whereas John was compactly built, heavily muscled with the shoulders of a blacksmith, the lithe waist of a dancer and legs like oak tree trunks, these people were long, lean and tall, though the tallest were nearly a full head shorter that John. Suddenly, without warning, the savages jumped on the pirate, bearing down on him, driving him towards the ground. He heard Petey yelp as his face pressed into the sand and thought to himself that there will be a reckoning as darkness consumed him.
The sickening smell of cooking meat awoke John with its nauseating aroma. John was on his knees, hands between his legs with supple green cordage wrapped around his wrists, a spike in the middle driven deep into the ground. The savage tasked with guarding the pirate was distracted by Petey roasting on the pit, back turned to John as he salivated in anticipation of the meal to come. John got his feet under him, squatting like a frog and started to pull with the strength of his mighty legs. The seams of his breeches and shoulders of his coat started to pull apart as his muscles rippled with exertion, veins near to bursting in his neck and on his face, John felt the spike start to drag upwards through the sandy soil. There would be a reckoning, oh yes, these savages would know why he is THE DREAD PIRATE! The guard never knew what happened as the spike entered the back of his skull, to protrude from his forehead making him look like some ebony unicorn. Dread Pirate Murkin drew a pistol into each hand and stepped forward towards the cannibals. Eight flintlocks, eight shots, eight dead savages. The bloodlust was high in John as he drew his cutlass, grinned a ferocious smile and waded into the butchers work at hand. Eleven natives were down before they even realized that the Devil was among them, whirling like a dervish, a whirlwind of fine steel weaving a tapestry of death. John spun around seeking another foe for his notched red blade amidst the cloven skulls and spurting stumps only to find the battle over seemly as soon as it had begun. As the red fog of murderous rage began to dissipate from the pirate’s eyes, he noticed the surrounding foliage begin shaking and rustling. John dropped his cutlass and took off at a dead run for the beach, boots kicking up plumes of sand as he sprinted for the beach. The jungle erupted as wave after wave of ebony warriors burst forth to give chase, baying like bloodhounds, spears whistling through the air seeking soft flesh. Coat and hat long gone, breeches and tunic in tatters, bloodied from a dozen wounds that would’ve felled a lesser man, the Dread Pirate Murkin dove headfirst into the crocodile infested waters and struck out towards the ship with long powerful strokes, leaving the howling savages impotently waving their spears on shore.
The chambermaid was laying out clean clothes as John wearily pulled himself into bed, exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open.
“Looks like you had a big day today, Johnny.” She said, “Planning another tomorrow?”
“Yes ma’am” he replied as Petey, the terrier, curled into a ball at the boy’s feet softly snored.
“Okay then. Get some good sleep then.” She leaned down to kiss him on his forehead. “Love you baby.”
“Love you too, Mom.” Said Johnny through a yawn.
Tomorrow, Ship’s Commander John “Blaze” Murkin and his trusty First Mate Pete would launch the first manned flight to Planet X. They would be the first humans to interact with an interstellar species. Who knows what dangers await? As John’s eyelids grew heavier his mother reached for the switch…and the lights go out.
The end.
edit on 1-6-2023 by Moon68 because: (no reason given)
Proper quick off the mark that one mate, enjoyed the story though nice one!
originally posted by: SprocketUK
Proper quick off the mark that one mate, enjoyed the story though nice one!
Thank you!
edit on 1-6-2023 by Moon68 because: (no reason given)
originally posted by: BeNotAfraid
a reply to: Moon68
Friggin' heck! That's how ye spin a yARRRn. Har har.
To the once and future Commander Murkin. Lol
Thanks so much BeNot!
Love me some pirate tales.
Watch for the further adventures of Johnny Murkin, boy wonder.
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