Piracy | A Horrordust Story

Spare Some Time For Me

It had been a long time, Dust kept being reminded of this, unable to stop thinking about how long he had been here. In reality he assumed it wouldn't have been that long. You want prisoners to be alive do you not? So you wouldn't go days without feeding them. But the lack of mental stimulation lead Dust to just, imagine different things. Many of these things turned... less than good. But within 5 minutes he was onto a new thing. Floating sheep, skipping about a field. Which turned into sheep monsters, which slowly dusted. Then a new thing, and a new thing. It was whatever to Dust, at least he had something to keep him occupied.

The extreme large number of different scenarios did start to blend together into one horrific scene. A reminder of his past. A knife in hand with the people he loved the most. The thought made him shiver, managing to snap out of it. The room was barren... he hated it. He instead thought about how he would decorate it if it were his room. Getting rid of the skeletons, putting in an en suite, a large bed, dressing table and so on. In his mind planning out what colours, carpets and so on that he would use. He still couldn't ignore the important bits though.

Dust had his chance, and whilst he knew another would come, he felt powerless. The time taken for his food to arrive initially could have been hours, or days, despite the illogical fallacies that came with that. He didn't have a possible way of telling how much time had passed, only really being able to tell by storm patterns but, that doesn't really help. Storms can come and go within minutes. That doesn't mean days have passed. Regardless, it definitely hadn't been days, although it certainly felt like it to Dust. Most oceans storms occurred at night, but not always. How could he be sure? It could be the second day, or even the fifth. It might even be the same day. Heck, it might have only been an hour or two since he was fed last.

Time was his worst enemy at this moment, nothing but a barrier that was stopping him from getting answers. Time. Despite how he counted the seconds in his head, time would pass as it felt fit. Memories flew by, his childhood, school, and those men. Those pirates. He was in their possession, and he was stupid enough to even try give them their money back for popcorn. One in particular seemed odd. The way his hat tipped slightly downward as if he was missing a portion of his skull, however, weirdly shaped magic skeleton skulls, whilst not common by any means, did occasionally happen. The skeleton bodies around him, which he could tell were human skeletal remains, made him ponder slightly.

That man was weird though, no matter how much he attempted to brush it off, something felt off. His mannerisms. The way he spoke. It was as if something was just somehow different about him. He attempted to make sense of it, even looking at his now empty plate of food. Hoping something would prompt him to make the connections, yet nothing came to him.

Just as he took a deep breath, clearing his throat slightly, the door opened. This time it felt brighter, as if the gates to heaven had just opened. Oddly enough he was too deep in thought to have even heard the loud footsteps down the hall like he did the time before. Immediately he opened his mouth, wanting to get something out.

"Y-you! L-listen to me... for a second... please let me ask some questions." Dust pathetically asked, in this situation he was in the weaker position for once, never being used to this. He ran things for much of his life, the popcorn machine, his own bedroom, even imaginary games with imaginary friends. As dumb as it may sound, feeling out of control of a situation made him petrified. He looked up at the skeleton monster, his eyes pleading without intention. The door shut behind the monster, something that was noticeably different from the prior time.

"I have no reason to accept your plea." The other spoke, his tone somehow constantly neutral, as if emphasis on syllables didn't exist to him, whilst somehow being demeaning.. He placed the food down, a bowl of chicken noodle soup. It looked no short of amazing. He made sure to move it to Dust with magic, not touching him in any way, removing the old plate and placing it in a small paper bag.

"Just... please." Dust begged again, the idea of begging or being lower than someone had never been one of his fantasies. And that sentiment certainly carried over into his current situation. "Just... I'll ask a few... no more than 3." A compromise was his only way of possibly getting some answers. It was basic psychology. Convincing someone that they're getting a deal by 'only asking for this' increases the likelihood they'll do it.

The other skeleton walked slightly forward, sitting down, revealing his face fully. Dust could see him in more detail now. He was short, with fully blacked out eyes, the paint on his face appeared to be a liquid, as if it was constantly flowing, it must have been some weird kind of magic as it certainly wasn't paint. "3 questions. Start. I ain't got all day, 'got other people t' feed."

One of his questions was already answered by that remark, there were other people on this boat. He now had one more question and had to make the other 2 he had count. "Th-thank you... s-sir?" He didn't know the others name, addressing him as 'sir' to hopefully please the other. But it would be nice to know the person who has been feeding him by name. "Who... are you?"

The other skeleton chuckled, doing a motion which oddly enough looked like he was rolling his eyes, despite his lack of them. "Killer. 'm a server. Bring food to people. Work closely with the Captain, not like its any o' y'er business like. Can't really complain though, I let'cha ask."

He had a name, Dust nodded, processing the information. "W-well... Killer. Why am I here?" He silently begged to himself that Killer would know, hoping he would have an important question answered. Yet somehow he didn't think Killer would know.

"I ain't got a feckin' clue. Captains orders. Keep ya safe, fed 'n clean." Killer clearly wasn't as interested as Dust was in this conversation. He softly raised a spare fork he had, digging it into the air as if it were a knife in a victim.

Dust froze up, more shocked now. "So... only the Captain knows?" He questioned, wanting to make sure he was right in his thought process. Although he did risk losing the third question since technically he did just ask one.

"No shit, ain't that jus' what I said?" Killer remarked, placing the fork down. "Last question."

Dust breathed a sigh of relief for Killer not noticing the question he asked. "Can I... speak to the captain?" He asked, innocent in many aspects, clueless to how the boat ran. He would like to know a bit more.

Killer coughed, happy he put his fork down so he was sure what he heard was correct, and not some kind of mishearing due to him being distracted. "Speak... to the Captain?"

Dust didn't know whether to feel comfort into the fact someone was confused like he was, or scared that he has just asked a clearly odd question. Killer's reaction wasn't comforting. Killer, who worked closely with the Captain, was scared.

"Nobody speaks to 'im. Not unless somebody's dead or dying. Ain't nobody riskin' their life like that. I 'ardly do it."

Dust just looked up at Killer with sort of determined eyes, and as Killer was told to make sure the prisoner was kept safe, fed and clean, he sighed, standing up to his feet and opening the door.

"I'll see what I can do." The door closed behind him as Dust began to eat his soup.