Short Stories
Michelle's Wish - September 28th, 2007
Princess Michelle's attention was not on the noisy, costumed revelers celebrating a moonless, winter solstice, but on the hushed shadows flirting in the darkened alleys. Barely lit by the light overflowing the tavern window, she sought one shadow and the fulfillment of her dream. She shuffled her feet, toying with the folds in her luxurious gown. Her emerald eyes flashed excitement at any movement. Her arms clutched an unadorned chest close to her body.
At the head of the dock, like a black leopard, the nameless sorceress moved out of the darkness toward her prey fidgeting in the shadows. She glided along the dock, trailing the smell of death. People winced; some vomited in fear as she passed. No one dared look into her eyes. All knew that the nameless sorceress dealt in wishes and dreams but with eternal pain and suffering. She stopped and faced her prey. "Princess Michelle?"
Eye to eye with the sorceress, Michelle forced a quivering smile. "I'm here, dressed as specified with the wealth you requested. I've stolen my families' fortune and bankrupt the sovereignty."
The sorceress' black tongue slashed at her own dry, cracked lips. Ravenous lust stared into Michelle's eyes. "Then, I'll ask you once! Are you sure this is your heart's desire? Are your own desires worth more than the love of so many?"
"Yes! I'm the most beautiful woman ever. Strong men fall in a faint at my glance. It's rumored the blind see when I walk by. I want to retain my beauty forever."
The sorceress nodded. "Out of the Valley of Darkness it shall be as you desire; unaffected by the passage of time."
Satisfaction washed over Michelle's face. "Do it now before I age another minute!" Michelle thrust her families' treasures at the sorceress. "This chest conceals enough jewels to buy twenty of the cargo ships docked before us."
A cackle gurgled in the Sorceress' throat. "But not enough to rent that one, The Black Moon." Her bony finger pointed to an Elfin trader moored alone at the end of the dock. "Not even for a single day."
The other ship's mooring lines groaned and croaked, fighting the waves and tide, while the Black Moon, silent and sinister as the night surrounding it, lounged as one with the water. Constructed by malicious wizards from a world down under, The Black Moon was the fastest and most agile ship on the sea. The armament and the magic that enveloped the ship also made it the most dangerous. It was captained by the most depraved, corrupt elf the sea and time had ever created.
The sorceress turned. "Follow me." She led Michelle through the throngs of drunken men and women dancing and singing. The revelers, out of respect for or fear thinned to nothing as the two approached the elfin trader. The sorceress hesitated at a movement on deck. She grabbed Michelle's arm. Her voice shattered the stillness. "Captain Patch! I have what you asked for."
An elf taller than three stacked barrels and as wide as one eased out of the shadows. Dressed in black, except for the silver cutlass at his side, he blended into the dark. Born a bastard son of a prostitute, he was a street fighter and a survivor. Sold to a pirate captain by his mother when he was ten, he learned all about life and death from the sea. It was not a loving and kind sea. It was a turbulent sea racked with danger and violence. At fifteen, he lost one eye to a man swinging a chain in a bar brawl over nothing. He was tagged Patch and the moniker stuck. At twenty, he was a feared but respected captain. At twenty five, he purchased The Black Moon and all its magic.
Out of the Ship's darkness, four bare-chested men disembarked and dropped sacks at the sorceress' feet. Patch drew his sword and pointed. "One thousand pieces of the realm's gold In each sack. I best be pleased. Right now, in death my men's souls are condemned to haunt the seas forever. It is your promise to right this wrong."
"It is good Captain."
"Then come aboard."
The sorceress pushed Michelle forward. "Take us to the prow of your vessel."
Patch led them to the front of the vessel. A match flared in his hand as he lit a lantern. Holding it high his eyes traced Michelle's body lines. He paused, staring at her face. He touched her hair. His voice was deep and commanding like an echo of a raging storm. "Yes she's truly beautiful. She'll make a wonderful model for my ships figurehead."
A smile resembling a knife gash progressed slowly across the sorceress' face. "She's not the model. She's your figure head. Grab her!"
Patch clapped and men materialized from the shadows. Muscular arms encircled Michelle. The princess struggled but couldn't move. The sorceress reached into her robe and pulled out four spikes. They blushed in the semi-darkness like half dead embers. She held them out to the men. "Nail her to the prow with one leg on each side of the keel. Pull her arms back like she is flying and nail her wrists to the ships rail."
The men scurried. No one heard Michelle's howling as it mixed with the revelry of the celebration. The sorceress hand waved an 's' in the air and Michelle's mouth froze open in a silent scream. "I hate it when I'm not appreciated. Especially when I do what they ask! Now, Captain, do you have the barrel of spar varnish?"
"I do. It's over here!" The captain led her to a large, topless, oaken barrel.
The varnish hissed, foaming and steaming different colors as the sorceress released a hand full of powder into the barrel. "Paint every inch of her every day for thirty days. Her feet and lower legs will dissolve into the wood within the first week. She will appear carved into the keel. Don't miss a day and soon she will turn still. On the twenty-ninth day she will be totally changed in her nature; transformed into the wooden beauty of the figurehead I promised you."
Patch nodded as she continued. "Now, her spirit dwells in the figurehead. If you listen well, you will hear her speak. Talk to her and she'll guard the ship from sickness, rocks, storms and evil winds. If the ship sinks she'll guide you to a place where the dead rest easy. She's art that lives forever."
Patch bowed from the waist. "I thank you sorceress. I have made a deal that makes many happy and only one sad. This is good."
"Strong winds blow!" The sorceress' fingers wiggled to the sky as she and her treasures dissolved into that eternal darkness only evil knows.
Patch terrorized his world till old age took his soul. His crew, out of respect, wrecked the Black Moon on the rocks. The figurehead survived, floating for years till she grounded on a sandy beach. There the sea foam washed her with fine sand till she was completely covered. Her beauty was hidden from all but the crabs and sandworms.
A fierce storm finally washed away the sand and Michelle saw the sun once again. She spoke to many who passed but they never answered. They were so absorbed in their world they never heard her cries.
One bright day a fantasy writer wandering down the beach sensed her presence. He spoke to no one there. "I sense your presence but I do not see you."
"Here, in the sand! Come speak to me."
He spotted one emerald eye. Carefully he gently brushed away the sand and weeds that draped her softened curves. Awed with her exquisiteness, he carried her home. Today she rests, ever beautiful in the corner of his brightly lit loft. His guests constantly remark about her beauty.
He smiles. "Her true beauty is in the stories she tells me. Strange worlds of Elves and sorceresses, Pirate ships, fierce battles, love affairs, rulers and their subjects along with a million others are the tales she weaves. All rest, hidden within her. All I have to do is write them down. Most of them win contests."