Short stories

Rowans story: part 2

Rowan fell. He fell, and it was a miracle he didn't hit any rocks. Rowan hit the water on his back with a loud smack, which instantly knocked him out upon contact. He floated there for a second, then sank. Sank down into the vicious, swirling, violent, water. Involuntarily, air bubbled escaped his mouth. He was forced under, then was viciously reeled forward from the underwater current. In his path was a large patch of dark blue jagged coral. His body scraped against it, cutting cut deep gashes into his chest. The coral suddenly began turning into a light shade of blue, from the moment Rowan touched it, until he was past it and swept by the current. But of course Rowan didn't notice.

The current pulled back, dragging Rowan with it, and when it pushed out again, shot him out to sea. So here he was, being pulled along by the underwater current, the island becoming further and further away.

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Rowan was confused. He was hearing shouts, but they sounded like echos, and they were muffled and were distorted. He was... he couldn't even think. He thought he remembered.... but he couldn't remember anything. Was he dead?

He was coming in and out of consciousness, hearing blips of noise, then nothing, then noise again. He could feel his body, but had no control over it. Then he felt himself tossed onto a hard surface.

His senses got a sudden shock when he smelled something very strong. His full consciousness snapped back, and he sat up with a jolt, immediately coughing. He opened his eyes, shielding them from the sudden light for a moment. When his eyes adjusted, he saw a man holding a jar of something green under his nose, and Rowan mumbled at him, pushing the jar away with his hand. The man looked, interesting. Long braided black hair, a long overcoat, ripped white shirt... and oh my gosh, Rowan realized he was a pirate.

Blinking, Rowan looked around him, seeing around 15 more of them. They all wore different clothes, some sleeveless, some button up shirts, some no shirts at all. One man stood out, wearing a shiny leather jacket, a large hat and a shiny silver sword strapped to his waist.

"Ah good, the lad is awake. Stand up boy," he offered Rowan a hand, which he took. He pulled Rowan up, and Rowan was surprised at how strong the man was.

"I am the captain of this fine vessel," the man said, "Captain Monty if you will. And what's your name?"

"It's... Rowan," Rowan said, starting to cough again, realizing his lungs burned.

"Nice to meet ya. Now how come you was floating in the ocean here?" The captain gestured to the water.

Rowan looked out across the water, seeing no sight of his island. It was just water all around them, he couldn't see anything else except water. Now everything came back to him. He was shoved off the cliff. He remembered falling, but he didn't remember hitting the water. How was he even alive? There was a chance he would have missed the rocks, but surely the current would have bashed him against the cliffside, and then he surely would have drowned. But he was here somehow.

"My village.... they threw me off a cliff..." Rowan said quietly.

"I see.." the captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then glanced around at his crew. "How old are you boy?"

"I'm sixteen," Rowan answered.

"Aye, I'd say you're an able bodied young man. So, you join our crew. Unless of course you'd like to go back where we found you."

"Well... um yea I'll join you." Rowan mumbled. He really had no choice in this moment, plus, they did save him, so that was worth something. It couldn't be so bad.

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Six months had passed. Rowan had worked with the pirates as they went around, including raiding a few villages. He found this was something he kind of enjoyed. He was given more responsibility than he ever had in his village. The pirates, there was no sense of emotion, or any feelings that they liked him, but they respected him, which made Rowan feel good.

Rowan realized he had changed. He now dressed like them. He was wearing a grey v-neck shirt, black pants, tall brown boots, and a long black overcoat. A shark tooth necklace dangled from his neck, and a worn pistol and sword was on his belt. He was much more muscular, from all the strenuous work of cleaning, opening and closing the sails, reeling up the anchor, and other such tasks. Although he didn't let his hair grow out like all the others though, but kept cutting the dark brown strands short when they fell into his face. He thought the long straggly look was offputting.

Ever since that day he was pushed into the water, he discovered several long scars that ran across his chest. He didn't remember being hurt, but he didn't have the scars before, so he must have gotten it somehow when he fell. He also felt extreme anger towards the chief. His parents. Even the village. His face got hot and his fists clenched whenever he thought about it. The way the chief had blamed him for something he didn't do. Thinking about it, the chief himself probably burned the field. And his parents. They just agreed to it, just so they wouldn't get in trouble themselves. How selfish. And the village, they had just followed, and chanted for his death in those moments. And the severity of the punishment. No one had ever been punished like that, why did they decide to do that to him? And he survived. Bet they didn't see that coming. He had sworn to himself, if he ever made it back to the island, they would feel remorse.

But it had been a while, and they hadn't stumbled across his island. After being dumped into the ocean, Rowan must have floated a great distance away from it. It was a miracle he was even alive. But they had accepted him, given him clothes, just in exchange for his help. He worked alright. He was often the one mopping the decks, cleaning the fish guts off the deck after they cleaned what they caught, and all the other undesirable tasks. But he couldn't really complain.

Rowan also noticed that these pirates weren't to smart. They didn't understand that if they attacked a village quietly, they would be much more successful. That they could use their words carefully to intimidate a person, and to trick them, some use of deception.

It was nearing evening, the sun low in the sky, casting red and orange rays to reflect on the ocean's surface. A slight chilly breeze blew through, making ripples on the water. One of the crew had climbed up onto the crows nest, a platform which was on the top of the main mast. Rowan, who was at the moment mopping, stopped when he heard a shout. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned his head towards the men to hear what they were saying.

"There's land he says," one of the crew said to him, noticing Rowan looking over.

"Really?" Rowan said, peering out at the front of the ship. Everyone else was doing the same, when they heard the man hollering from up above.

"No you dimwitts, to the side, not the front!" He was pointing over the side side of the ship. Rowan turned to look, and immediately his jaw dropped. He had not even noticed it before, since his back was turned when he was mopping. What the crews excuse was... well it didn't matter. There was an island there. A small island, lush with forest, seeming to have nothing on it from the eyes view. But Rowan knew there was something on it. He knew because, it was the island he had lived on.