The scream of each dying member of my crew slapped at my ears. My first mate was thrown overboard into the waiting jaws of death as hungry sharks waited to be his escort to oblivion. The wind and the waves raged over my sinking ship as I looked down at the severed hand at my feet, the fingers of my right hand still grasping the handle of my saber.
“Edward Vincent,” the squid-faced captain said in his thick Scottish accent with a twinkle in his eye and a blood-stained cutlass to my throat, “do you fe-ar death?” I paused with a thoughtful look, my remaining index finger to my lower lip, “Um ... yes! Yes I do! How soon can I start ... Cap’m?”
-Pirate Eddie
