Saint of BlackSails

Saint of BlackSails

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 45m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Aug 3, 2016
They whisper the word 'Pirates' with such disdain and disgust. They all think that we are one and the same. They believe the filth that smeared on our faces meant that we all live to destroy, to steal, and to kill. They think that we simply hate order and celebrate chaos. But we are not all the same. Some of us want order. Some of us beg and pray for peace. But our peace and your peace are different. And because of that, some of us must fight and destroy so that we reach the utopia. And because of that we follow roar and the commands of our Captain. We shiver in admiration at the color of the Blacksails. Since, it is never the deaths of many that we want, but simply, freedom. Wouldn't you fight to destroy oppression? Come and breathe with the freedom of The Blacksails and understand, truly understand, liberty.
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Red Hands

Trigger Warning: This book contains descriptions of weapon violence, violence, cursing, murder, abuse, blood, and gore. This is a prequel to my book, Gains Game. Go read that first! Please forgive the Spanish in this book. I am not fluent, and the only thing I had was a Spanish class I failed in high school and Google Translate. If there are any fluent Spanish speakers who want to correct me on mistakes, I would greatly appreciate it! His hands were red. It covered his skin like paint and dripped onto the floor. It covered him from head to toe. His breath was heavy, and his body trembled uncontrollably. They were gone. He should be happy. He was free. He wasn't, though. He killed them. His own parents. Their blood covered him. His breath hitched in his chest, and the bloodied knife clattered to the floor. What had he done? He was a monster... No. They hurt him. They never cared. They enjoyed watching him bleed. Laughed when he had to fear for his own life in his home. They were the monsters. They made him afraid. He would never be afraid again.

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