A Pirate's Life For Me

Memories Resurfaced

I'm being pulled through the streets, my hand intertwined with another, tottering along with baby steps, following the shadow of my father as he strides purposefully across town. I exchange a glance with the boy beside me, but he simply smiles at me, tightens his hand in mine and tugs me forward, daring me to catch up.

"Uncle Wylie!" he calls, racing in front of my father, stopping him short. "Can I get a candy from the store?"

I avert my eyes, hunch in my shoulders. I should've warned him. Any time Daddy gets interrupted, he likes to swing his hands.

Daddy's hand does swing, but downward, softly, landing on his bent knee as he crouches down and hands the boy a few coins. He drops my hand to hold them, laughing as they sparkle in the sun.

"Sure, Hazelton," Daddy smiles, ruffling his hair. "Don't get yourself sick, now."

Hazelton grins at me before taking off in the direction of the shop, leaving me cowering in my father's shadow. I shouldn't be surprised, not really. Daddy only ever seems to be angry at me. Why would he get mad at perfect Hazelton?

The cobbled street dissolves into the hardwood planks of the deck of my father's ship, Hazelton advancing on me, waving his wooden sword high in the air. He yells as he brings it down, but he's smiling. I dodge, parry, laugh back, but I'm not focused on having fun. I can see him every time I twist, leaning against the railing. My father is watching. I cannot afford to fail.

"Take that! And that!" Hazelton is screaming, wood cracking hard against wood, but he's enjoying himself. He's on the attack. I have to be able to show that I can attack too.

I yell once, twist my arm, aiming for a feint at Hazelton's shoulder, but I don't flip the wood well enough and Hazelton's sword knocks mine backwards. My wrist ignites in pain, ten-year-old bones turning ways they weren't meant to go, and with a yelp my own wooden block bounces to the deck. I wait for Hazelton to drop his and advance with his hands, like we always do, but his smile grows slightly as he swings the sword again, and again, and again, until I trip over my own feet and land hard on the ground. But he keeps coming. Over and over, until I curl into a ball and wait for him to stop. He's never done this before; he's always made it relatively fair. It isn't until I turn my back to him that I realize why, isn't until I'm facing the railing and the rising sun, isn't until I see the shadow against the fence that I relax into each blow. Hazelton knew my father was here, too. He's trying to impress him.

The beating doesn't stop until there's tears, and only then because Daddy steps in and sends Hazelton away with dinner. For me, he doesn't bother to say, but I know what the punishment is. I walk on my own aching legs to the cell in the hold, hiding in the hay until morning.

The barn enclosure evaporates into smoke, hazily forming back together into a storm, with me on the deck of a different boat. I launch into action, tying ropes down, flying across the ship to try to ready it to sail myself. A roar erupts off of the land to my left, but I ignore it completely and focus just on dragging the ship out of port. Finally, I force the main sail down and the boat starts to move, and I race to the edge to cut the mooring line. I can see him as I hack through the rope. He's walking slowly, stalking down the pier with fire in his eyes, the same fire that burns in the heart of the gold in his sack. This was only meant to be a mining theft, but little did he know I was getting out. I was gone. By the time he reaches the edge of the dock, the ship is already moving away, into the darkness, into the clouds and the thunder. I don't know what direction I'm going, but I know I'm going away. I'll drop off the ship at the next harbor and hide in the next country. Kriria, maybe. Uncle Declan lives there.