4 the Escape (1/2)

My chest heaved as I held onto the fruit and the book, the only two things that would give me a chance to survive in the world that I now called home. The winds shrieked as the pulled at my clothes and the foam kissed my sweaty brow, with a promise of eternal death, if I ever had the misfortune of falling off the ship.

My father stared at the incoming volley, unafraid, and with a challenging smirk that I had only seen on his face, whenever he had cooked something that mother disapproved of. His red bandanna fluttered as his dark hair flew all around him.

We were at a cross-road, and both he and my mother knew it. My mother looked at the fleet, her determination palpable, as her blond hair streamed in the cloudy sky. Her pale-blue eyes resolutely regarded the oncoming disaster, as the tear stroked skin of hers seemed to glimmer with an otherworldly brilliance.

My father pulled out his pistol, grinning as he did, ”come 'ere ya bunch of nitwits, and let this old man clean his blade in your blood!!” he said, then realizing that his sword was still quite safely dirty in its rusty scabbard. ”Bastard Lector! I know you are hiding somewhere on those ships let me not find you, or I swear to the writer of the poneglyphs that I shall kill you!!” he said, his face becoming serious as he lead the ship onward to the blockade that had surrounded what was once my home.

The cypher ships, (I found out they belonged to cypher only because of the waving flag. Yup, nothing else told me about it) advanced as their cannons began to ring again. The leaden balls thundered passed into the sea, rising raging sea water in their wake -that flooded the deck of the Pearl.

The ocean waves rose as if to stop the incoming ships, as we sailed on. In the background thunder and lightning raged, illuminating the sky as it did. As the ships grew closer, my heart could not help but beat louder, as if to welcome the inevitable battle that was sure to commence.

My father roared at the incoming mob, already manning the canons as he did, he was a very good sharpshooter and now he put his awesome skills to practice. Already a few ships had sunk into the sea. The leading ship had done nothing to stop the incoming projectiles, opting instead to advance in renewed vigor.

the two ships collided, their prows connecting as my father mad weird angles with his shooting. His shots reminded me of Rip Van Winkle of Hellsing. The bullets seemed to have a mind of their own, as they seemed to shriek with glee, bringing with them a season of harvested terror. Not only so, his sword too, which he had by now un-sheathed, also sang with the happiness only attributed with an instrument of war.

Already, what I had eaten threatened to abandon me and it took all I had to make my stomach obey me. It was the first time I had seen gore like this, and at such close proximity too. ”Lore, run to the crow's nest, you will be safe there!” my mother bellowed not taking her eye off the men before her. Her hands swayed in a beautiful dance, with a flutter in her legs and a flurry of her fingers. She reminded me of a spider, always weaving its web, waiting for prey, though in her case, she was slightly more aggressive.

My spindly legs carried me up the mast, as I occasionally looked down at the carnage that my sweet parents had wrought, blood and limbs flying in the air as the screams of a myriad of people rung from below, somewhat reminding me of the day on which I had died, and the idea of hell that had been forcefully implanted in my brain.

Many different types of people existed below me, some shifted into the form of goat-men with horns and hoofs but also with hands and guns, and yet others seemed to turn into metals, like iron or steel hard to the touch and grey to the naked eye. Some men fought with black limbs and others with finger-bullets that 'pew-ed' through the air. Men and women fought with various weapons, some with katanas and others with the urumi, but they all had one thing in common. They wanted to kill my parents and probably me too. My heart turned cold at the thought, people baying for my blood, merely because of who they'd been.

As I reached the top of the mast, my lungs heaved, half with the exercise I had just done and the other with the fear that had accompanied the hellish scene in front of my eyes. My hair stuck to the sides of my head with the water in the air, and the harsh thunder clouds in the sky.