The first time I moved to Los Angeles, I didn’t know much about the place. Heck, I’d never even been there before. Sounds crazy, I know. But this story is about to get a lot more crazy than that.

My now husband (boyfriend at the time) and I decided to move there after living in Asia for the better part of 5 years. We decided since I was a filmmaker it was the most logical place to go, but we didn’t have all that much money. So the first thing we did was book a cheap hotel, just for the first few days, until we could get a car and an apartment. We did some research, I guess not enough, and ended up staying at a place called “Stay on Main.” It was a hostel, of sorts. As in, it was a hostel in a hotel, the Cecil Hotel.

For those of you who know your horror history, you are already probably rolling your eyes, idiots. But keep in mind, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. So we went. For the most part our stay was uneventful. The surrounding area was a little rough and there was a shared bathroom for our hall. We stayed on the 4th floor. Yup. The death floor.

Shi, or 4, is unlucky in many Asian countries because the number sounds like the word for death. But again, we weren’t thinking about any of this at the time. Our room wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a little small with giant tacky flowers, and strangely pillowy blankets. Being jet-lagged, neither of us slept very much. A few days later we checked out and we were on our way, nothing strange about it.

Things didn’t start getting weird until we moved into our next apartment, which happened to be shared with a lovely couple and their friend, all of whom had studied at Oxford. I thought it was a bit strange when we arrived that the girl asked us if we wanted to “smudge” our room. She said the last girl who had lived there before us, well, she wasn’t exactly a kind spirit and there was a chance of some negative residual energy. We politely declined, at the time not believing in such things. Man were we wrong.

Some time passed and summer faded, Halloween was fast approaching. Everything was going pretty good, until one night when I noticed my boyfriend was unusually fidgety. Something was clearly bothering him so I asked him what was up. He said it was nothing, he didn’t want to talk about it. I told him he couldn’t say that then not tell me what was bothering him as it was clear something was. After fidgeting awhile more he finally confessed he had seen something. A woman. A ghost woman. Not once, but twice.

I laughed it off. He described her much like the stereotypical Asian ghost you would see in movies like The Ring. As a horror buff and lover of all things spooky and abandoned, I had seen my share of crazy, but still was not about to believe this was really happening. I gave him many explanations and said it wasn’t real, though it was a bit unnerving to see him so spooked, he’s not an easily frightened type.

About a week went by and then it happened. I walked into the kitchen and swung open the cabinet, looking for a snack. I saw my boyfriend walk into the room a little after me, out the corner of my eye, so I swung the cabinet door back and asked if he wanted anything to eat. Except, it wasn’t my boyfriend. It was her. She had walked up the hall behind me, into the kitchen and vanished before reaching the kitchen window. I must have looked like I had just seen a ghost when my boyfriend walked in the room because he asked me what was wrong when he saw my expression, because I had in fact just seen a ghost.

Now we were both officially freaked out. But what should we do? We talked about it, but didn’t come to much of a conclusion. Luckily being Southern California, just about every corner store carries Spanish prayer candles. On a whim I bought one of the Virgin Mary and put it in our window. It seemed to work. We also smudged the whole apartment, you know, just in case.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst part came on the day before Halloween. My friend in Tokyo, being one day ahead it was Halloween for them there, had posted a strange video with the caption: “Here’s a good one for you guys, Happy Halloween.” When I watched the video my eyes began to water, as they are now as I write this, something I have come to learn happens whenever I hear a true ghost story. The video was none other than the video of Elisa Lam in the elevator of the Cecil Hotel, the last known footage of her before her mysterious death.

I, freaked, out. We didn’t know anything of the case or her mysterious death at the time when we book the “cheap” hotel. It turned out we had both stayed on the same floor. And there in our house, a year after she was found dead in the water tower, she was walking around our apartment. It was like she followed us. I had never even heard of this person or the Cecil Hotel before. Then it all came together, clear as the ghost my boyfriend and I had been seeing following us around. Luckily nothing else came of it. But my eyes water even now, and I hate to know all that I know of her death and that place. And the more that I learn about that terrible place and the horrible things that have happened to the people who stayed in the Cecil Hotel, the more I regret that we ever set foot in it.

When you have lived as many places as I, some places you begin to forget. However there are some places that haunt my memory and remain impossible to drive from my mind.

Warm autumn sunlight would shimmered through the trees and cast harsh geometric shadows on the narrow back alleys of old Philadelphia. There always was a sort of spookiness to those old streets. It sometimes felt as if the three hundred year old ghosts from when the city was fresh and turbulent could still slip out from the cracks of the cobblestones and walk amongst the living. There were many nights I could recall laying awake in my one bedroom flat, listening to what I swore was the sound of horse hooves pulling a carriage up Fitzwater in the dead of night. I’d try to rationalize, I was just imagining it, but it gave me chills all the same. When my boyfriend was away, which he was very often, I would call my friends back North and talk as long as they let me before facing the long nights alone.

There was something strange about that place, our apartment on the corner of Front and Fitzwater. I can hardly remember anything good about it, but I will never forget everything bad. It was like a nightmare brought to life. The years I spent there, I don’t think I’ve ever slept so little. It’s no surprise in hindsight why I could never keep my eyes open in class, after making the 45 minute walk to my University, after my bike was stolen from the narrow hallway on the bottom floor. Funny, I had just gone up for lunch and locked the door, yet when I returned to grab my bike and head back to class, my bike had simply vanished. But that’s not even the strangest thing that happened there.

One day, my boyfriend and I were sitting upstairs, the entire third, or “top” floor was our apartment, when we heard a loud crash. The whole building shook. We heard people shouting. Next we heard an angry knock on our door. Our downstairs neighbor raced up the stairs and was shouting about how his ceiling had collapsed and how it must somehow be our fault. The whole thing collapsed, yet our apartment was fine. It turned out there wasn’t even a leak. This was never explained and we all went on as if it never happened.

And yet even this was not what bugged me. Not this, or the time the garbage truck also miraculously exploded on Fitzwater, sending trash spraying everywhere up and down the narrow street. No, it wasn’t the horse hooves and the sound of heels clicking against the cobblestones when the dimly lit street was clearly deserted between midnight and four am. It wasn’t the fact that my cat would constantly stand on my dresser at night when I was alone and claw, meowing desperately at the ceiling. There was something worse about that place, something completely inexplicable.

One night before my bike was stolen, I was riding home late after classes and work had finished, it was dark, but not late enough for the streets to be entirely empty. I turned the corner to our apartment and saw a woman. She was well dressed, in a pencil skirt and heels. She clutched her purse and walked in my direction until she reached the corner of Front and Fitzwater. In the narrow opening where the sidewalk breaks and the two streets meet the woman suddenly stopped. When she resumed walking she did not continue in a straight path in my direction as she had been doing only a moment before. Instead she did the most bizarre circle. She spun about two or three times, it’s hard to recall because it all happened so quickly. Then she abruptly collapsed.

I jumped off my bike and let it crash to the ground, rushing over to check on her. It seemed likely, at the angle she had fallen that she could have hit the back of her head on the sidewalk.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” I asked as I knelt down and reached for her arm. She was clearly dazed and brought one of her hands to her head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She said as I helped her back to her feet.

“Do you need me to call someone? Call for help, or sit down? I live just upstairs.” I insisted. The woman wouldn’t look at me, she shook her head and steadied herself on my arm for a moment, fixed her hair and smoothed her skirt.

“No, no I’m fine… Just don’t tell my husband.” She said and kept walking as if I hadn’t been standing there at all. I was shaken. More shaken than she seemed to be. I slowly retrieved my bike and walked to the front door of my apartment building and reached for my keys, occasionally glancing back to check if the woman was still on her feet, but soon she was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck.” I realized then that I had left my keys in my apartment. Another unfortunate reality of living in that strange place was how it was entirely possible to lock yourself out with your keys still inside. My boyfriend was out of town again, he was in the Coast Guard so he wasn’t going to be returning soon and I needed to figure out some way back into my place. Old building that it was, I realized I could climb the fire escape and break into my own window, which I had left unlocked… That is if I could reach it. Luckily I had some classmates that lived pretty close so I grabbed my phone and started making my way down the list of possibly available people, preferably boys, who could help me break into my own apartment.

“Hey Dambly! You free? Here’s the thing, I may have locked myself out of my apartment and need your help. I’ll buy you a beer, or several.” Fortunately my friend agreed and I sat on the front step for 15 minutes or so until he arrived. It took a little convincing but after awhile he laced his fingers together and allowed me to step on them, hoisting me up until I could reach the edge of the fire escape and pull myself onto the first floor platform. Thankfully our neighbors also rarely seemed to be home and no one noticed a stranger standing outside their window. I scurried up the ladder as quickly as I could, and went to push the window open, then I stopped.

“What the fuck.” I whispered to myself. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? I was always under the impression that we lived on the top floor, after all, it was the top floor. The stairs stopped at our apartment, and yet there I was, face to face with a fourth floor. I stared at the boarded up window at the top of the fire escape for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Then I popped open my window, slid in, grabbed my keys and rushed downstairs to show my friend my discovery.

“What the fuck?” He repeated as we stared slack jawed at the now clearly visible extra floor that no one seemed to have noticed until that very moment. We circled the building, there was absolutely no way in, except for the one boarded up window at the top of the fire escape. Soon after we both slid back out the window and climbed the ladder to further inspect this mystery floor. Foolishly we made attempts to pry at the wood to get a peek inside until we started rousing suspicion from people passing by on the street below. Not wanting to risk having the cops called on us for a break and enter we decided to resume the search for stairs inside.

Nothing. There was no evidence of any way to reach this mystery floor. The walls were solid, painted brick, and there were no marks on the ceiling indicating a dropdown staircase leading to an attic. Completely baffled we gave up and grabbed those promised beers, then sat discussing why on earth there was an entire floor above us that no one could access. Needless to say it did not make me sleep any better. I now understood why my cat sat on my dresser and meowed at the ceiling, it turned out that many of those noises I had been hearing were not coming from Fitzwater at all, they were coming from the fourth floor. Creeking, clicking, scratching, clopping. I slept with headphones in or the phone to my ear as often as I could.

Eventually I moved and all the noises stopped. But nights go by and I am still haunted by the mystery of it all. Where was the staircase? Why was it boarded up? And most importantly, who or what was up there? Sadly I don’t think I will ever know, gladly I have slept much better since.

There once were two men who walked the same path.

They worked the same jobs and lived the same way.

One day on their walk they each found an egg.

They looked for the mother but she had flown away.

The eggs were small and speckled.

“How beautiful!” Each thought.

They picked up the eggs up and went on their way.

The first man was so proud of his pretty egg.

He locked it in a cabinet and put it on display.

The second man thought the egg was beautiful but wondered what more it could be.

He loved the little egg and kept it warm by his side.

As the weeks passed the first man’s egg began to decay.

“How ugly!” He thought.

Then he tossed the speckled egg away.

The second man was frightened when his egg began to crack.

But to his delight out from the shell appeared a beautiful songbird.

“How wonderful!” He thought.

And the little bird loved him and sang for him everyday.

#love #relationships #fear #control

I lay my head on my lover’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. Rhythmic. Soothing. Repetitive.

It is in this moment that I am the most at ease, and yet I am also the most mortified.

What if the beating suddenly stopped?

All that lies between me and this beating heart is a sack of blood and flesh.

I become painfully aware of my own mortality.

So many things can break the body.

Each day keeping this soul bound to its flesh becomes an ever-increasing challenge.

As time moves faster like a stone rolling down a hill to an inevitable crash, so too does the rate at which these bodies decay.

My own attempts to slow the inevitable decent does nothing to keep my mind from the truth:

One day his heart will stop beating and soon after, so will mine.

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END.

Have faith.

It's something we tell ourselves, our friends, our loved ones.

It's something we lie about almost every single day.

It's something we use to justify unjustifiable wrongs.

It's something we use to manipulate masses.

It's something we use to demonize those who are different than us.

It's something we use to mask our fears.

It's something we say can help but there is no proof that it does.

It's something we use to measure a person's worth.

It's something we use to measure our own worth.

It's something we use as an excuse so that we are not held accountable for the outcome.

It's something we would all be better off without.

It's something completely useless.

#faith #religion #competition #April #useless

Commercial 1: Are you sad? Do you suffer from everyday life syndrome? Do you wake up and realize that dreaming is your only escape from the 9 to 5 grind? Take this pill! Your mind will become so fuzzy, you won’t even remember what this commercial is about. It won’t do your dishes, make your ex call you back or even give you the self esteem you need to find a new job, but you won’t remember why those things bothered you in the first place! So take this pill, sit on the couch and smile at that grey wall.

(Disclaimer: Side effects may include, mindloss, weight gain, acne, a total loss of self, the sudden desire to purge your friend list of negative people, leaving you with no friends because in reality you actually were the negative one, an increase in the number of Lifetime movies you can tolerate, a sudden desire for Christmas music, an increased attraction to the color beige.)

Commercial 2: Buy this sexy, sexy perfume/watch/car/outfit. It will make your friends think you are financially and emotionally secure! It will make your family wonder if started sucking dick for a raise. Maybe you did, it doesn’t matter, no one will dare judge you if you buy this perfume/watch/car/outfit because they couldn’t afford one. So sad for them!

Commercial 3: You know what’s the worst? Being alone. You are so lonely you didn’t even have anyone around to tell you how lonely you were until you saw this commercial. Look at this similng, laughing couple. Just download our dating app and subject yourself to countless shameful hookups and mismatches until you find that one, special person who makes you really, truly happy for a week. Then buy our in-app purchases and pimp your profile until you find that next person who makes you really, truly happy for a night. Keep swiping away with that self-doubt and those insecurities until you find someone as truly rejected and dejected as you!

Commercial 4: This yoga/fitness/gym/spa/personal trainer will make your friends so jealous of your hot body that they won’t even notice your body dysmorphia! We’ll throw in a free condescending vegan to accompany to all social events to make them feel even worse about their life choices.

Commercial 5: Hi, pyramid scheme here! We’re great at giving you all the hope you need for you to spend all your money trying to become rich, successful and happy, so we can be rich, successful and happy! Just sign up 5 of your friends without their consent and prey on their weaknesses so you can make a buck and get the lifestyle you really deserve! Nothing screams happiness like flaunting your undeserved wealth around people who are struggling to just get by!

Commercial 6: Are you ugly? Old? Ugly and old? The secret to not being ugly and old is to be born pretty like this privileged, white, 15 year old we hired to sell you beauty products. Rub this organic salmon sperm into your face every night for the low cost of $100 a month, then get a tummy tuck, boob job, brow lift, and top it all off with $80 lipstick and you won’t look nearly as pretty as this privileged little white girl but we will still have you convinced that if you repeat this process daily, you will be looking your best you!

Commercial 7: I don’t often drink liquor, but when I do, you know it’s top-shelf expensive-ass liquor that I pay a 600% markup for in this club full of women who really wish I would stop trying to flirt with them. This makes me feel 600% better about my life choices until I wake up the next day with a searing headache, spooning a half-eaten pizza. But if I drink more, I'll forget that ever happened.

Commercial 8: You know what you need? A vacation! Forget your problems on a cruise ship full of old people who never had any problems! Just drink this margarita and pretend that you are not going to be too broke to take another vacation for the next 10 years after this! Smile! You’ll need an excellent travel selfie to share on social media, to prove to everyone you don’t really know, how happy you really are.

(I could go on forever, please add your own in the comments!)

#happiness #love #nonfiction #truth #prose

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a waste of a pretty face. Tis a shame we’ve not been properly acquainted Milady, but I suppose there’s time fer that.” Gilly moved his hand to touch her leg but Ella kicked it away, nearly knocking him out of his chair. His expression soured and he swiftly used the same hand she'd kicked away to smack her hard across the face. “Ye’ll play nice ’er it’ll be a much longer trip between you and the gallows.”

“Just kill me and be done with it.” Ella choked out in a weak, raspy voice. “I’d rather die by your hand than his. At the very least to spite him the satisfaction of doing so himself.” Gilly responded by simply shaking his head. “Then what will you do with me till we reach Plymouth, keep me chained here?”

“If you behave, you’ll find I can be quite accommodating.” Gilly moved closer with a wicked grin. “Or, I’ll throw ya in the bilge and let the rats chew on ya!” Gilly burst into laughter as he brushed his hand against her chest and then doubled over as a violent cough seized him amidst his laughter. Ell noticed blood on the edges of his mouth as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Gilly stood up to fetch himself some water. Ella pressed her lips into a tight frown to keep herself from smiling. The water did no good to soothe his cough.

“That’s a terrible cough Captain. I do hope it’s not as bad as it sounds or you may be dead before I.”

“Shut yer gob woman or I’ll plug it with mi cock.” Gilly regained his composure and the coughing slowed.

“Please hear me, whatever Hadwin has promised you, I can pay you double. The fortune is with my father and is not Hadwin’s to spend freely, he is not a rich man. Believe me it is a trap! He is more likely to hang you beside me than to give you what he’s promised.” Ella pleaded.

“It doesn’t matter what ya offer, yer a no-good muderin’ molly and the law is coming fer ya! By my hand er not, yer days are numbered.”

“My father is the law in Weymouth, I can assure you unhindered business in exchange for my life! Besides I am innocent!”

“It makes no difference to me!” Gilly returned to his wicked grinning and leaned over her, resting his hand on the wall beside her head and brought his face close to hers. “I’ve made a deal with the Navy long ago. Sea crabs like their pleasure and who do ya think be providin’ it? It ain’t Weymouth I’m after. The good Captain’s provided me safe pass ta London. Not all the money in yer mother’s purse could buy me that!” Gilly grabbed her between the legs. Ella thrashed and managed this time to force enough spit from her mouth onto his face. Gilly merely wiped it away and smiled. Ella knew there was nothing she could do but she tried to resist him anyway as he tore at the ties of her stays. Suddenly there was knock at the door. Gilly paused. The knock came again, sounding more urgent the second time.“Piss off!” Gilly shouted at the door but the knock repeated. Gilly reluctantly rose to answer it muttering curses under his breath. “Aye?” He cracked open the door and in pushed Cormack, carry a tray of food.

“Yer supper Captain!” Cormack chimed with a glowing smile and set the tray on Gilly’s table.

“I gave no word fer supper, out wit ya!” Gilly growled. Cormack ignored him and began removing the food from the tray and setting it on the table. His hands moved quickly to avoid shaking. "Did ya not hear me boy?”Gilly asked and eyed him suspiciously. Cormack gave him a calm grin and strolled towards Ella.

“My apologies Captain, I came see our lady in chains.” Cormack leaned over Ella with a fixed grin to hide his concern for her disheveled state. Ella looked up at him, puzzled.

“What do ya think yer doing?” Gilly said and put a heavy hand on Cormack’s shoulder.

“You were right about her, ain’t nothing but trouble. Just glad to see it sorted is all.” Cormack continued and pushed a stray bit of hair away from Ella’s face. Ella bit at his hand and he pulled it away quickly.

“Come on, out! Say yer goodbyes at the gallows!” Gilly barked and pulled Cormack away from her. “Tis a storm, we need ya on deck.” Cormack spun around and faced Gilly.

“Captain... Uncle…” Cormack placed his hand on Gilly’s shoulder with a stern look in his eyes. “Handin her in be fine by me, she’s been nothing but grief since first she came, but if there is to be any justice done here and now, I’d like to be the one do it miself.”

“Why you dirty little rake!” Ella shouted at Cormack.

“Shut up woman, I’m warnin’ ya!” Cormack turned to her with his hand raised. Gilly chuckled and made his was over to the table to pour himself some wine, now properly amused by Cormack’s behavior. “You see Uncle-”

“Captain is fine.” Gilly poured himself a glass and took another from the tray, pouring it for Cormack.

“Ya see Captain, she never paid me back for the coin I’d lent when this draggle trull lied of being ill.”

“Ya must learn to trust no one miboy!” Gilly said and handed Cormak the glass of wine.

“Always making some kind of a mess.” Cormack said and brought the glass of wine to his lips, Ella’s eyes widened and she shook her head slightly, terrified that Cormack might actually sip it, but instead he lowered it to speak again. “A mess Duchess, that I had ta clean. Leave ’er to me she’ll pay back every bruise and penny I’ve suffered on her behalf.” Cormack turned to Gilly and raised his glass as Gilly settled into a chair beside the table and returned the gesture between stifling coughs. Cormack brought the glass to his lips once more but before the red liquid could reach his mouth Ella threw her body forward and kicked him in the leg. The wine splashed out of the glass. Most of it landed on the floor in front of Cormack, some of it landed on Ella. Cormack bent down and grabbed Ella roughly by the hair, pulling her face up to his. “Ya bleedin-!” Cormack hushed as Ella whispered something too quietly to hear. “What’s that?” Cormack brought his ear closer.

“Don’t drink the wine!” Ella whispered. Cormack released her hair. “I said your mother was a whore and I’ll piss on your grave!” Ella shouted in his ear. Cormack shoved her back to the wall and swiftly slapped her across the cheek.

“I can see why yer husband wants ye dead.” Cormack said sternly. Ella thrashed in her chains but he moved away from her legs reach. He returned to the table to pour another glass and refill Gilly’s, who had been intermittently drinking between coughing and laughing.

“Good show miboy, but there’s just one thing I forgot ta mention.” Gilly said and grabbed Cormack by the wrist as he went to place the bottle back down. “When I spoke of trusting no one, I also meant thee.” Gilly took his double-barrel pistol from his side and pointed it at Cormack, keeping a tight grip on his wrist.

“I? Captain, I don’t understand-” Cormack said genuinely surprised by Gilly’s action.

“What’s yer plan? Steal mi keys? Think I’m fool enough ta leave ya alone so you can set her free?” Gilly rose to his feet, towering above Cormack. “You plannin’ ta kill me boy?” Gilly questioned sternly and cocked one trigger.

“No! There was no plan! He truly hates me, I swear it!” Ella offered, suddenly fearing more for Cormack’s life than her own.

“Hush!” Gilly pointed the pistol at Ella momentarily. “I’ve enough bullets fer ye both!” Gilly returned his attention to Cormack. “Rather I tie ye down and make ye watch as I have mi way with yer favorite trollop!” Just as suddenly as he had grabbed it, Gilly released Cormack’s wrist and shoved him backwards, pointing the pistol at his head. “Out!” He barked. “Or I swear ta Christ I’ll shoot ye.”

Cormack turned and took a step towards the door. His fists balled with rage. Gilly settled back into his chair keeping the pistol aimed at Cormack and took one last sip of his wine. He began to sputter and choke. He clutched his throat, blood bubbled about his mouth. “You!” He pointed the pistol at Ella and began to rise from the table. Ella shook her head in fright.

“No-” She whispered and closed her eyes as he cocked the other trigger. Bang! A shot rang out and echoed loudly across the room. Ella's ears rang and the world went black. After a moment of not feeling any pain Ella opened her eyes. She saw Cormack standing with his pistol aimed at Gilly. He had pulled from his waistcoat where he had hidden it. The shot he fired went clean through Gilly’s head and lodged itself in the wall behind.

“I’m sorry Uncle, I was tryin’ to avoid doin that but-” Cormack said and lowered his pistol. Gilly’s pistol fell from his hand and he fell face-forward onto the table, then rolled to the floor.

“Good-God! Cormack you-” Ella spoke quietly from shock and relief as she watched him calmly walk over to Gilly’s body. “You killed your own uncle… for me?”

“He were a bastard anyway.” Cormack sighed and unhooked a ring of keys from Gilly’s belt. He looked at Gilly for a moment, who stared up at the ceiling, blood pooling around his head. He shook his head and closed Gilly’s eyes with his two fingers, then stood, and made his way over to Ella. “Ain’t rightly sure he were really mi Uncle.”

“What do you mean?” Ella questioned as he unchained her right wrist.

“Well, he ain’t look nothing like me ma, and clearly ain’t look like me.” Cormack said and unchained Ella’s left wrist, then helped her to her feet.

“Yes he certainly does lack your charm. Did, did lack. I suppose he’s dead now.” Ella glanced at Gilly’s motionless body and then flung her arms around Cormack and hugged him tightly. A wave of relief brought a few tears to her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispered. The two embraced for a few moments more until Cormack broke the silence.

“So ya think I’m charming then?” Cormack grinned and Ella looked up at him. Their faces were so close, their lips were almost touching, for a moment Cormack thought she was about to kiss him. But instead she pushed backwards and gave him a hard smack on the cheek. “Ah! What the devil was that for?” Cormack clutched his stinging cheek.

“You’re a horrible liar! And you didn’t have to hit me!” Ella crossed her arms and pretended to pout.

“I was just tryin’ to make it believable!” Cormack reached for her shoulder but Ella turned away.

“Well, you scared me half to death!” Ella tried to frown but a smile crept across her face instead. Cormack caught her smiling and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“So then ya did believe me.” He teased. Ella shook her head and turned to Gilly’s body, slowly stepping closer to examine it.

“Well what do we do now?” She pondered, contemplating the size of Gilly and how they could possibly move him. Cormack walked over to the table and retrieved Gilly’s double barrel pistol, then took Ella’s hand and flipped it palm-up.

“Anything you want, Captain.” Cormack grinned and placed the pistol in Ella’s hand.

“Me? Why not you? It was you who killed him, and you’ve grown up on this ship! I don’t know anything about being a captain, besides being married to one…” Ella protested and tried to hand the pistol back to Cormack. Cormack shook his head.

“You’ve the respect of all the women, I don’t think they’ll take kindly to a lad such as I givin ’um orders. Besides, bloody revenge and what not.” Cormack smiled and pushed the gun back into Ella’s hands.

“Well. It seems you’ve procured me a gun. I guess that makes us even.” Ella smiled and examined the pistol more closely. The smile faded from Cormack’s lips as he glanced over at Gilly and the blood around his mouth.

“So, what was all that with the wine?” Cormack questioned.

“I’d been been filling it with small amounts of glass for weeks, not enough that he would notice, but I don’t think he would have lasted very much longer.” Ella smiled, taking the bottle and examining what remained. She poured a few drops between her fingers and pressed them together, revealing tiny cut where the glass sliced her skin. Cormack watched in bewilderment. “But I suppose you did save my virtue, what little I have left.” Ella shrugged and tossed the bottle to the floor.

“Why not poison?” Cormack asked.

“Poison? Well I haven’t any.” Ella shook her head.

“Ya could have asked.”

“You have poison?” Ella asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“I told ya before, I know where ta get some.” Cormack shrugged.

“Remind me never to take tea from you.” Ella laughed.

“Well just stay on mi good-side then.” Cormack winked.

“So what do you figure now?” Ella smiled then crossed her arms, surveying the room. “Gilly was only half the problem, we’ve others to account for.”

“I say we take them down now, before they catch wind of what’s happened and make plans to take the ship themselves.” Cormack said and Ella nodded in agreement.

“Then, shall we head to the kitchen first? After all, I am starving.” She quired with a smirk.

“Aye, aye... Captain.” Cormack playfully saluted.

“Please, call me Calypso!” Ella grinned and headed for the door.

#pirates #novel #romace #history #tragedy #revenge

They used to say knowledge is power. Oh the lies we tell our children. Do people teach hope out a belief that there is still a reason to do so? Or is it a plot to laugh later when our dreams become nightmares and the only thing pushing us through day after day is some lie we were sold as children.

I think of 1984 on a regular basis. It should have been mandatory reading. Yet this knowledge posessed for over 100 years, this cautionary tale, hasn‘t helped prevent it’s fiction from becoming a reality.

They say writers predict the future, maybe some of them should have written a future less grim. Maybe this is why we teach our children to believe if we work hard and learn a lot, we’ll have a bright future.

But as we age we learn this is not true. The giant orange cheezedoole flaps on all over our news channels, sitting in the seat of highest power, with no knowledge.

Eve‘s true sin was not disobedience. It was a desire for knowledge. What she learned was that the more truth you aquire, the more you understand that the world is terrible and you are powerless.

"My child, there you are!" Death embraces me in her loving arms. "What took you so long?"

"I thought things would be different." I replied, relieved to see her.

"You've known a long time that life is nothing but suffering, sorrow and futility." Death said with a frown.

"Yeah, but I heard that pizza was amazing and love was real so I wanted to try it." I said with a shrug. Death laughed.

"And what did you find?" She asked.

"You were right. It's not worth being bound to a rotting cage of flesh." I said with a sigh.

"Ah yes, live and learn. Don't fret it my dear, now you are free!" Death said and took my hand to guide me back to the stream of energy where I could be anythong or nothing and never again have to suffer heartache or heartburn.

@Danceinsilence - Thanks for the challenge!