Hazel Ipswich and the Ghost Pirate

Hazel Ipswich

Drunken men yammer on in the evenings at the pub. A young child bustles around the merriment clearing dirty dishes and cleaning up random messes. Some of the women entertaining the drunken men bring them upstairs for a good time. She weaves in and out collecting dishes and bringing them into the kitchen where she attempts to wash a few at a time before going out and collecting more dishes. The young girl darts out of the kitchen for more dishes. There was spilled spirits on the floor. She whips out a towel from her apron, she kneels onto the floor and starts to clean it up. Her strawberry blonde hair falls into her constellation freckled face. She brushed out of the way, revealing her rose kissed cheeks. A hand grips her arm as he whips her around. Her crystal blue eyes meet her aggressor as he invades her space. He wreaked of ale and had not bathed in weeks. And older man, dressed like he came out of the mines minutes ago, and smelled as if he lived there. "I like them young!" He pushes her down on the floor and straddles her, and he hold her arms down. "Get off! she screams." He covers her mouth and leans in to whisper in her ear. "Shut the fuck up and take it like the little dirty whore that you are." He sticks his tongue in her ear, her face contorts as she cringes with disgust. The man then tries to stick his slimy tongue in her mouth. The drunk is flipped backwards. There stood a beautiful woman, her skin kissed by the sun every so gently, yet a universe of freckles. Most are taken back by her odd attire. She dressed differently than the average woman. She wore trousers that were form fitting, and a blouse which flowed in the wind and somehow made her look powerful. Her tiger ribboned eyes, nearly turned red with anger focused on the girl's drunk assailant. "Get out Earl!" "This is a brothel madam, I'm supposed to have whoever I want." "Not her, leave the help alone." The woman demanded. The drunk slowly bumbles his way out the door. The large bartender comes out from behind the counter and extends his hand to the young child. "Are you okay Hazel?" "Yes, Thank you Hamish." Hamish wipes the tears from Hazels eyes. "Take a few minutes, go take some food to your mother." "Okay, Hamish." Hazel looks down and back up the enlarged Hamish. She finds his Irish accent, reddish brown hair and deep blue eyes very comforting. Hazel looks up at the woman, "Thank you." The woman smiled, she lifted her hand to gently caress Hazels cheek, "Anytime sweetheart." Hazel smiled at her warmly, then retreats into the kitchen and gathers a plate of food to take upstairs. After having made her way up the stairs, Hazel softly knocks on a door, and then opens it. As she cautiously enters the room, she beckons the occupant. "Mother? Mother I brought you some food." Her mother did not move upon her daughters entrance into the room, she couldn't move for she was very sick. Hazel sits down next to her mother and starts to spoon feed her mother. Her mother looks at her with faded life in her eyes, leveled with contempt, and glazed over with despair. Her once bright blue eyes have faded to a colorless gray. Her once vibrant strawberry blond hair has lost its sheen. Her while skin glistened in the light, as its milky glow are filled with disruptions of open bed sores. Some days were like this, some days she was more active and talked with her daughter. But today was not one of them. Hazel finishes feeding her mother and then returns down to the parlor to finish her chores. She weaves and bobs through drunk men and other women seducing them accordingly in the halls. She makes her way downstairs, Im back Hamish. Hamish nods at her, and she gets right to work.

Hours after the Parlor had closed its doors, Hazel finishes washing the last of the dishes before her. The building is never quiet, there is always a woman entertaining an eager customer. You can hear the fake giggles and moaning through the walls. She recalls the days when her mother was one of them. She did not like knowing what was going on with her mother. Some days ended with her mother receiving bruises, and abrasions leaking blood. But now the lifestyle that once supported them, is killing her mother. Hamish looks after his women. Usually the women give up their babies, but Hazels mother did not. Hamish was quite fond of Hazel and was more than glad to have her around. Hamish keeps telling Hazel soon she will have to be married, but Hazel doesnt want to get married. Hazel wants to go live her life. But then she thinks, what is an eleven-year-old girl going to do? Hazel crawls into bed with her mother and cuddles up to her. Her mother may not always talk to her, but she always caresses her hair when they go to bed.