Where Once There Were Sails

January, 1792
Atlantic Ocean, Midnight
مياه داكنة

They came on dark water, through the cloak of night where even the moon refused to shine. The stars held their own, as they were cold enough to shelter the fears of the mortals beneath them. Fires burned where once there was sails, the masts only skeletal remains as even they would turn to ash before the time the sea came to claim the last of the life aboard the vessel.

Another American ship, a virgin country that was just learning to stand met the fate of thousands that came before them. The sailors that remained were put in chains, the captain’s head mounted upon the stern, and the feather from his hat placed in the hands of a beast.

“See to it the men are secure, khodja (a purser to supervise the stores and plunder).” His voice certainly not to rival the winds and waves, but a slow burn that moved like smoke and hissed like a serpent. There was much more to be said about men who obeyed and to those that took commands; Maahes’ men acted as though they were as loyal to he as they were their God.
word count: 205

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