Hello, all! I know it's been awhile since you've seen me, but I promise that, from now on, I'll go to all of your soccer games! We're gonna be a family again, you'll see!
This story started out one day when I while I was working a boring day at the Self-Checkout stand. If you've ever worked at a Self-Checkout stand, you'll know it's quite boring. I was covering for a friend's break, and decided to grab a leaflet of receipt tape and write down a small bit of fiction that had been traversing through my head. When my friend returned from her break, she discovered the leaflet, began reading, and sequently demanded that I write her "more story". And I did. Every time I covered for her break, I would add more to the short story, and she would read it gleefully.
For her birthday in December, I took the first leaflet of receipt tape, and wrote this short story using that as the base. What resulted was a ten-page story about pirates and what-not.
To better illustrate the setting, think of a world populated by several floating islands akin to Skies of Arcadia. In this world, there are pirates and there are rogues. Pirates are greedy and self-fulfilling. Rogues are also greedy and self-fulfilling, but they're also quite charismatic.
Anyway, without further stalling for time--
-Grey
Adventure. That was the driving force of the young boy who leaned into the wooden railings of the small fishing boat. As the soothing winds brushed against his young features, a smirk crept across them. His mind wandered—thinking random thoughts. The gulls flying alongside the boat punctuated his musings with their caws of varying pitches.
The yellow sun stood lazily in the light blue sky—it was, indeed, the perfect day for sailing. The cool winds caused the tattered sails to clap into themselves, while the slow motions of the air boat caused its old wooden frame to groan and creak. He minded not the noise, however—it was music to his ears. The slow churning of the boat's singular engine provided an ambient background as the older fishing boat continued towards its unapparent destination.
His heart rattled against the inside of his chest like a pair of wild drums as he glanced down from the wooden railings on his boat. The small fishing vessel trudged through the air effortlessly. The young sailor smirked as he gazed down at the black torrent of wind several kilometers below. There was no water or land to protect him if he fell—his journey was without a safety net, and that's the way he liked it.
What caught his eyes when he looked back up would soon make him wish for one, however. A black flag flailed in the wind towards the top of the larger ship that slowly approached. A few cannons pointed at the young man's small boat, and he wouldn't have enough time to even reach his rudder, much less escape the impending danger that the intimidating vessel brought with it.
“Oh hell,” said the young man before biting his lower lip out of fear.
WITHOUT A SAFETY NET
ROGUE SKY
A short story written by Andrew J. Neff
Bartlett stepped through the wooden walls of his large ship angrily. His mood was foul for having spent nearly three days shadowing a luxury liner only for his plans to plunder the ship falter when the legendary Rogue, Gideon, showed up like a knight in shining armor.
He lifted the glass bottle in his hands, but immediately threw it to the floor when he discovered its contents empty. The glass shattered once it hit the ground, and Bartlett stepped through the remains without concern. The daunting pirate was furious and frustrated, but he was, most importantly, sober. This key detail contributed the most to his aggravated mood.
Bartlett stepped into the final door in the hall, which is where he kept his many years worth of pillaging. Several valuables were littered across the room: old paintings, rare artifacts, gold, and a lot of empty bottles and shattered glass. His eyes scanned the room several times, but couldn't find a single trace of alcohol whatsoever. Bartlett bit his lip and groaned loudly.
He feared the worst: that he would have to buy some. The very thought was a plague on his mind. He didn't purchase anything! He made no exchanges, no barters—he was a pirate! Bartlett sighed; the most feared pirate in the skies settling to actually purchase alcohol—the thought was humiliating.
Bartlet weighed his options: humiliated... or sober? Neither choice looked too favorable. Bartlett, once more, sighed.
The gruff pirate stammered to the bough of his ship in hopes to vent his frustrations. This was an unusual side to the dreaded pirate. Usually when he was frustrated, he would make sure that everyone knew it. Today, however, he was being courteous by stepping outside.
It must've been the sobriety. At the thought, he nearly lashed out in anger, only stopping himself when he caught a glimpse of a small, but favorable-looking, vessel no more than a hundred knots away sailing through the air.
“Perhaps it's not such a bad day after all,” he said to himself.
The young man opened his eyes, hoping desperately that the events prior were a mere bad dream. Unfortunately, as the surroundings hit his eyes, he knew his hopes were lost. A sharp, dingy cutlass blade had been pressed against his neck. Attached to the blade's hilt was the right arm of a burly pirate named Bartlett.
“The skies ain't much place f'er dogs like 'ya, lad,” Bartlett said. His voice was almost as ragged as his build.
Jason dared not utter a word; notwithstanding, his fear made him completely unable to do so. Bartlett smirked widely before withdrawing the old blade in a cocky manner.
“I'm in a good mood, lad,” the pirate lied, “I'll be lettin' 'ya go.” He paused for a moment before replying, “However...,” he started, whilst turning to the several rugged crew members—each of them looking worn and angry, “me crew ain't feelin' so gen'rous.”
Jason swallowed hard as several beads of cold sweat rolled down his boyish features.
“We've been sailin' these skies for quite some time, lad,” Bartlett spoke, “not man ships 'round lately either—so when we found y'ers, my men got excited.” He chuckled for a moment, “How unfortunate, 'ya can imagine, it was f'er them when they boarded y'er empty vessel.”
The young man was eager to avoid thinking about the situation he had awkwardly stumbled into. He stared at the older man—his hair, black in color (with several strands of silvery gray showing his age), was matted and oily—he must not've washed it in quite some time. Jason was disturbed by where his thoughts were taking him, especially in such a situation.
“Why ain'cha talkin', lad,” Bartlett roared, “don'cha know tha's rude?”
Snapped from his thoughts, Jason blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Your hair is greasy and you smell awful!”
Bartlett was taken back by Jason's swift comment, much like the young sailer was for having said it. Quickly, the burly pirate's cocky smile was replaced with a stern grimace. His right hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon, “Now ya've done pissed me off, boy,” he growled, “ye best be sayin' y'er prayers.”
In slow motion, Jason saw Bartlett raise his cutlass high into the air. Jason cursed himself for having blurted out his thoughts. His eyes tightened shut as he waited for the inevitable blow that would take his life away right as it was beginning.
Another moment had passed, and yet the blow had yet to come. Before he could think about it any more, however, a thunderous booming sound rocked the large, wooden pirate ship. Jason opened his eyes to see the several pirates hastily regrouping, perhaps to counterattack.
“Is this y'er doin', boy,” Bartlett questioned Jason angrily.
“N-no, sir,” Jason stuttered. His hands, at this point, shook heavily and his heart thumped loudly against the inside of his chest. His stomach moaned and it churned as several more nearby explosions rocked the large ship.
“It best not be,” Bartlett warned, while turning to face his distant crew, “All hands on deck.”
As the sweat rolled down his face, Jason immediately thought to use this distraction as an opportunity to run back to his own boat and sail away to freedom. He quickly dismissed the idea, calling it a foolhardy endeavor in his head, then went back to silently praying for the day to be over and for none of the events prior to have actually happened.
A tall, confident man stood at the bough of his boat as it quickly approached the black pirate ship. A long, red coat was draped over his shoulders—it matched the wooden ship's fresh coat of paint. A pair of golden-framed pince nez surrounded his green eyes. This man, the captain, stared at his next prey as several more cannonballs were shot at it.
“Cap'n,” cried one of his crew members, “your orders?”
The man in red didn't turn around, only responding with a swift comment, “We board 'em.”
“Aye, Cap.”
His name was Gideon—he was a charismatic and knowledgeable individual. He was the captain of the agile, yet small, rogue ship that was well-known throughout the skies: the Béatrice.
The large vessel shook violently and several pirates ran around desperately in hopes to fight off the attack. Jason stood there; he wanted so much to run away, but his feet were frozen to the deck out of fear. His face, at this point, was covered in sweat and sweat trails. He was beginning to regret not having a safety net.
Gideon and two of his crew mates, Jack and Smitts, composed themselves after leaping from the Béatrice to Bartlett's ship. Gideon adjusted the lenses on his face with his right index finger, “You two,” he said, “look for any victims and make sure they're safe.”
“Aye, Cap'n,” the two men acknowledged. The two of them each gripped their weapons—Jack, a pistol and Smitts, an old rapier—and darted off in opposite directions along the boat.
“Well if it ain't Gideon, the wond'ful rogue,” came a harsh voice from behind.
Gideon easily recognized the voice, and without needing to face the person for who it belonged, he replied, “What's it to you, Bartlett?”
“When you plannin' on droppin' this here 'high-road' bullshit?,” Bartlett asked, “I could use anotha ship in mah skies.”
It was at this point that the red coat-wearing sailor faced the antagonist. His smirk didn't fade however, “Sorry, Bartlett,” he mused, “piracy's not my thing—I believe I've already told you that.”
“Aye, 'ya did,” the large pirate replied while grabbing his cutlass, “I jus' thought ya'd like to live a bit longa.”
Bartlett swung his blade swiftly, but Gideon, anticipating the blow, dropped to the floor and avoided the strike. He grunted, rolling backward, jumping back up as soon as his feet hit the wood, “I'm took quick for your cheap shots, Bartlett,” he said confidently whilst perusing his own weapons—a short pair of daggers from each side of his waist, “Now we're gonna fight fair.”
Gideon swung his right blade quickly; it crashed against Bartlett's cutlass with a satisfying clang noise accompanying it. Gideon's cocky smirk continued as he thrust his left blade forward. With little struggle, Bartlett hopped back to avoid the sudden jab.
“You're getting better at this, Bartlett,” said Gideon in a condescending tone. The charismatic sailor-swashbuckler wasn't much for taunting, yet Bartlett found himself quite enraged with the red-cloaked pirate's words regardless.
“Don't be tellin' me what I be getting' good at, traitor!,” Bartlett exclaimed.
Jason watched, still terrified, as several men wrestled and fought one another. Finally feeling movement from his legs, he turned and ran, only to crash into a man who towered over him.
“Ya gotta be watchin' where y'er goin', mate,” said the man, “are 'ya one of Bartlett's goons?”
Jason, barely able to speak, replied with a stutter, “N-no, sir.”
“So y'er bein' held against y'er will, aye?”
Jason nodded. As he was being surveyed by the man, he took notice of the man's clothes. They were clean and without tears, much unlike Bartlett's men. The man was wearing a thin, gray-colored shirt with long sleeves. Across his waist was a brown leather belt that held up his khaki pants. In his left hand was a pewter-colored pistol.
“Name's Jack,” he said gruffly, “I'm under Captain Gideon's command.”
“A-are you... pirates?,” Jason queried
Jack chuckled, “Nah, mate. We's sailors. Pi'neers, 'ya could say.”
Jason, semi-relieved, then introduced himself to the larger and older gentleman.
“A pleasure in meetin' 'ya, mate,” Jack replied.
“I have a small fishing boat—I was boarded not long ago by these jerks, and I would much like to go home now.”
Jack smiled, “Then 'ya best be getting' back to y'er boat, mate,” he explained, “we'll be getting' things taken care've 'ere.”
Jason nodded, then turned to run back to the opposite side of the large ship's deck. He dodged the various men struggling amongst themselves as he caught a glimpse of his small boat.
Jack spun around just in time to parry a pirate's blow with his pistol. “Tha's not a nice move,” he said to the pirate, punching him in the face. The force of the punch knocked the scruffy-looking pirate to the ground, and he casually stepped over him to look for more hostages.
“I can tell you're getting angry, Bartlett,” Gideon said casually as he used his blades to block another swing from the gruff pirate's old cutlass, “you never call me a traitor unless you are.”
Angrily, Bartlett pulled back his blade, and ran to tackle the younger sailor. Unfortunately for him, Gideon was nimble. The red-cloaked sailor sidestepped, and Bartlett's awkward attack led him to trip over his own feet.
From the wooden floor, Bartlett exclaimed, “Ya are a traitor! To everyone in these here skies!”
Gideon smirked as he turned away from his clumsy rival, “Is that so,” he asked calmly, “I am sorry... you feel that way...”
Having successfully handled the pirate threat, Gideon and his rogues left the pirate ship. Both the Béatrice and Jason's unnamed fishing boat sailed safely away from Bartlet.
Gideon wiped the sweat from his brow as he sat down in the captain's chair. “Mister Barkwood,” he said to the helmsman, “continue on to Brigarrde.” He paused briefly, “We've got a meeting with the Regent.”
“Aye, Cap'n.”
With his words, the Béatrice sailed north through the skies toward the large floating metropolis known as Brigarrde.
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~Without a Safety Net~ A Short Story
Thank you Saffire Persian. (Complete list coming soon)
Originally Posted by DragoKnight
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