Night of the undead.

Almost 6 weeks to the day,previously we,that is the crew and I,had been laying in a sheltered,uncharted cove,known only to but a few,and certianly not to the Spanish,from whom we were,not hiding,but rather avoiding,thus excluding the threat of further blood-shed,mainly ours !

     The night in question was moonles dark and foreboding,the sky a blank canvas,void of stars,with a depth of black that seemed as if one could carve it with a sword. The still air full of anticipation,causing the crew to loll about the deck,in restless groupstalking amonst themselves in low tones.

     Abruptly,silently and out of nowhere appeared a vessell,unlike any other ! She had been an immense battle,torn sails,cannon ballholes pockmarked both her starboard and port sides. Even more frightening was her speed,though the air still and unruffled by even the slightest breeze,and her sails hanging in tatters,still she bore down upon us.

We all to a man,stood tranfixed,unable to move as if held by some mystic constraints. This vessel appearred colourless,sheeted in a cold gray,whilst in possession of a feraful silence,for it plain to all who witnessed this spectre,that this was a ghost ship,a ship of the dead.

The End

0 comments about this story Feed