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Rum Horror Story
I hear the wind howl and screech above the cargo hold, and I feel the pain as I slid sharply into the side of my wooden crate.
I feel the swaying movement as we sail across the open seas.
The waves that trash against the wooden wall can be seen out the small porthole beside the crate.
Oh how I wish I could be there, drifting away from my darkened fate.
My wishing does nothing but remind me of the ticking clock, and the unknown future I might not have.
Then I see the light flood the room and feel the harsh blast of wind as the cargo door is opened.
They are coming down the stairs now.
Oh no, this is the end, I am doomed, the clock has stopped, and I can do nothing but wait.
Flashes of memories drift into my thoughts of when my brothers and sisters were carried away, how I had hoped that I would have been forgotten.
Wait, no, they are not coming in my direction.
My life has been spared…but for how long?
The sunlit, windy scenery outside the window slowly turns from a soft, silky blue, to black, forbidding velvet.
All is silent above and I am warm and content in the darkness, hoping once again for another night to go by with me forgotten.
Then I hear the drunken laughter and know it is all over, this is the end of a ticking clock.
I hear the creak of the hinges as the door is opened and the dim light of the lantern is cast my way.
Soon I feel the strong, scarred, bloodied, course skinned hand around my slim neck as I am carried away.
The thump of his feet on the steps reminds me of the death toll of drums that I have heard are played during a hanging.
We emerge from the warm cargo hold onto the moonlit, cold upper deck of the ship.
The last thing I remembered before the quiet, pitch black oblivion swallowed me was the captain’s voice say, “Drink up me hearties, yo ho!”