Arts and Sciences : Non-Fiction

Pirate's Captive

They came out of nowhere. And in an instant they took one of my most prized possessions. It was not something tangible. The pirates took my freedom.

We were a jovial bunch, considering the circumstances. With collars glaring in the sun and scraping at our necks we marched. In three groups we were split. The pirates, who were severely outnumbered, had the advantage. Not superior swordplay, but the fact of actually having swords. We could have overpowered them. Took back our lives at any moment. But there would be casualties. And no one volunteered to be the first run through. Cowards! I would have, if not for that old jugging injury from my youth. Well, I do have a scar. Anyway.

As we continued on to our cells, I led the men in a chorus. Annoying, yet tolerable. They filed us in. Each group in a cell. The tension began to overcome, even the pacifists. All the slaves began yelling at our captives. Shouting. Taunting. Asking for it. I was not immune. Big mistake.

I saw the blow coming. I watched as it hit. The pummel struck in slow motion but the earth came up fast. I was only unconcious for a minute, but a lot transpired in that brief time. When I awoke, I noticed others on the ground beside me, unconscious. The expression on their faces painted a picture of contentment. Perhaps dreaming of a different time, a different place, a tall glass of ale. When my senses returned, I finally realized that the guard was also down. Dead or alive, I did not care to check. Although he had some stunning footwear. No time for shopping. With the cell open from an aggression I did not witness, I leaped up and raced in no particular direction. It was time to find my equipment, find my companions, and find my way home...

Falling Fire Arts and Sciences