The Wandering Knave of the Seven Seas: The Voyage of Neptune's Mermaids

Chapter One: The Confessional

Hello all you fabulous people!

I have decided as one does to start a sort of series here on Wattpad to get a gist of how people think of my writing. This one randomly came to me and I just sort of started and now here we are. The story I hope you will now read is a result of my utter adoration of Pirates and is partially based on myths, but otherwise all my own work. Although inspired by familiar and adored tales of Pirates (especially featuring those starring the brilliant Johnny Depp) the stories, names, characters etc. are purely of my own imagination.

Please, if you could be ever so kind, leave an opinion in a message and you would be definitely helping a fellow writer out. Or, I also do the same for others. So have a story you want me to check out? I can do that! Just comment! Anyway, if you don't want to tell me whether I'm on the right track or to leave an opinion of my works, then perhaps just a vote so I know I'm on the right track?

Thanks!

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The confessional’s cold exterior was alighted by a single candles flame. The dancing flame emitted no heat, nor did it produce an idea of comfort, and yet the wax candle stood tall and confident in a world full of discomfort and irrelevance. It was a symbol of individuality and power, and yet I felt so alone. The curtain separating the confessional’s occupant within and the occupants without was made of expensive satin, and was as still as the once-beating hearts of the those within their silent graves, abandoned with the church.

I put my hand palm up against one of the walls of the confessional, feeling the hardness of the wood beneath my exposed fingers. On the other side I knew sat another person, whom I had not heard a word from nor glimpsed upon, and yet I knew, without a doubt, that someone was in there, listening as intently as I was. I had not glimpsed the men outside as I predicted my unknown companion had, but I could hear their harsh and demanding voices as clear as the morning bells upon sunrise. Their orders rung out across the table and arguments flooded the ruined church, disarming its dead.

The men’s constant chatter outside had risen to an indistinct argument I could not make sense of. My impatience, otherwise unbecoming of a lady, had grown inside me over the past hour. Here, in the confessional, their eyes could not gaze upon me, and yet I felt unsafe. If I were to gather information before my impending capture I would happen to feel a little better, and yet I had not identified the twelve men around the table. But I knew they belonged to one particular group, of who were known for the ruthlessness, their abilities to take over large countries, and their stolen treasures. A group money could buy: Pirates.

Slowly, hesitantly and frightened, I moved the hand against the wall and clutched onto a section of the satin curtain and inched it aside. Light from outside crept in and settled amongst the dust. A shiver ran through my body and I snapped my hand back. The curtain fell down again, removing the men around the table from my hiding place behind the curtain. I cursed my nervousness. I had nothing else to lose.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled back the curtain again and gazed out through the small break. The twelve men around the table were all still taken by the arguments, and thus no one noticed me. But I saw them, and they were all a truly horrifying sight. The church, once adorned with rows and rows of pews, was now empty of anything other than a large oak round table that took up most of the church. I had glimpsed it earlier when I stashed away here, and had briefly took the time to marvel at the newest and by far the pretties thing in the church. The church itself was once beautiful; its coloured windows had once shone through the entire structure beautifully, but were now so broken that no image could be deciphered and let in nothing but a harsh wind. The wood had paled and some of the boards of the church had been ripped out. There was nothing beautiful or spiritual about this place; not since the arrival of its current inmates; not since they had snuck in.