Mist Landing
By
Donald Harry Roberts
Prologue
As I sit at my desk, the worn-out wood creaking under the weight of my thoughts, I can't help but reflect on the adventure that unfolded in Mist Landing. The old Victorian house around me, with its high ceilings and ornate moldings, seems to echo with the whispers of that ghost town.
I remember the day I sailed out of Mist Landing, the salty sea air filling my lungs, the misty horizon swallowing the silhouette of the town. It was an adventure that few would believe, a tale so fantastical that even those who lived it questioned its reality. I left behind a ghost town, a place that seemed to exist only in the echoes of time, its remnants whispering tales of a bygone era.
To me, the adventure was as real as the ink that now stains my fingers. The people, their faces etched into my memory, their stories woven into the fabric of my being. I can still hear their laughter, see their smiles, feel the warmth of their camaraderie. They were as real to me as the desk I now sit at, as tangible as the pen in my hand.
As I sailed away, the mist grew thicker, obscuring the town from view. But just before it vanished completely, I saw them. People walking on the docks, the beam from the lighthouse cutting through the fog, houses growing out of the ground like ancient trees. Even the shanties on the piers seemed to rise from the mist, their silhouettes ghostly against the foggy backdrop.
I often wonder if I changed history. Did my presence, my actions, alter the course of time? Or was it all just a figment of my imagination, a dream woven from the threads of reality and fantasy?
As I sit here, pen in hand, Ican't help but smile. Whether real or imagined, the adventure in Mist Landing has left an indelible mark on my soul. And as I write, I hope to capture a fragment of that magic, a sliver of that mystery, a piece of that ghost town that will forever live in my heart.
Sails Set and A Fair Wind At Our Backs
The day I set sail from Southampton was one of those rare English days where the sun shone brightly, casting a golden hue over the bustling port. I was aboard a sturdy cargo ship, her hull filled with goods bound for the Caribbean. The wind was fair, the sea calm, and the sky a canvas of light cumulus clouds soaring like skyships in the azure expanse.
From my perch in the crow's nest, I had a bird's eye view of the world. Gulls danced among the top sails, their cries echoing in the salty air. Their freedom, their joy, it was infectious. I found myself laughing, the sound carried away by the wind.
I was always chosen for the crow's nest, not for my strength or my courage, but for my eyesight. It was uncanny, almost supernatural. I could spot a ship on the horizon long before anyone else, could see the subtle shift in the waves that signaled a change in the weather. Up there, with the wind in my hair and the sea stretching out in all directions, I felt invincible.
As the ship pulled away from the dock, I watched as Southampton slowly receded into the distance. The hustle and bustle of the port, the shouts of the dockworkers, the creaking of the cranes, all slowly faded into silence. All that was left was the sea, the sky, and the promise of adventure.
And so, with sails set and a fair windat our backs, our journey began. Little did I know then, the adventure that awaited me in Mist Landing, the ghost town that would leave an indelible mark on my soul. But that is a story for another time. For now, there was only the sea, the sky, and the open road ahead.
A few days into our journey, my keen eyes noticed a subtle change in the colour of the sea. The once clear blue waters had turned a dark, ominous shade, and the smell of the air grew tart and uncomfortably warm. I descended the mast swiftly, my heart pounding in my chest.
I found the captain on the deck, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Sir," I said, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at my insides, "a storm is coming. And it comes this way quickly." My tone was ominous, a stark contrast to the calm before the storm.
The captain, a seasoned sailor, never questioned my warnings. This was our fifth voyage together, and though he had elevated me to midshipman, I still spent my watches atop in the crow's nest. He trusted my eyes, my instincts.
I returned to my perch as the captain barked out orders, his voice cutting through the growing wind. The crew scrambled to secure the sails and batten down the hatches, their faces etched with worry.
Not long thereafter, the storm was upon us. The sky darkened, the wind howled, and the sea roared in fury. A sudden change of wind direction and a heaving gust tossed me out of the nest. I was falling, the sea rushing up to meet me.
And then, I was engulfed by the cold, unforgiving sea. The world around me was a whirl of chaos and confusion. Even if I did not drown instantly death was swirling aroundme.
A Whale of A Time
The sea was a tempest, tossing me about like a ragdoll. I was not dragged to the depths of Davy's Locker, but instead, I was sent aloft, high above the curling waves. The storm raged relentlessly, the sea and sky indistinguishable in the chaos.
Then, in the midst of the turmoil, I was swallowed into the maw of a great creature. Not down its throat into its belly, but into a cavernous space that was strangely calm amidst the storm. The creature, a whale of immense size, carried me off, away from the storm.
I don't know how long I was in the belly of the beast, time seemed to lose all meaning. But eventually, I was expelled onto an unknown shore, a mist-shrouded inlet. The incoming tide carried me to the docks of a sea town, the lap of water lifting me onto the dock.
Exhausted, I fell unconscious, the last of my energy spent. I remember nothing more until I woke in a cot in a shanty, the smell of salt and fish heavy in the air. The storm had passed, and I was alive, saved by the very sea that had threatened to claim my life.
With newfound strength, I climbed to my feet and ventured outside. The beach was dotted with a cluster of shanties, their structures gleaming in the sunlight. As I approached, I saw the oddest sort of people. They were like the merfolk from the tales of the colonies, as comfortable in the water as they were on land. Their fingers and toes were webbed, and they had legs, not fish tails.
The buildings, even the shanties, were made of sea shells, their iridescent surfaces shimmering in the sunlight. The boats, beached and moored to the docks, were long and narrow, with a singlemast and sail. The mast was not fixed but could be placed at different angles, a design I had never seen before.
Their skin was ashen, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of their surroundings. Their eyes were emerald, with long narrow pupils that gave them an otherworldly appearance. Their hair was black with streaks of silver, flowing freely in the sea breeze.
As I stood there, taking in the sight a woman and a boy came to me. "You are well?!" the woman said in a salty whispering voice. And though she spoke English it had an odd tone and structure to it.
"It seems the storm and the sea have given me a gift, but I dare not guess what sort it is. Where am I?"
"You have washed ashore in Mist Landing but saved by an uncanny creature, one that at any or most times would have swallowed you for a meal."
"The whale. So I did not dream it."
"No. I think it brought you here for a reason, one that would benefit itself and maybe us."
"What possible reason could that be?"
The girl shrugged her shoulders and answered, "Strange happening have touched our town and for weeks now no ship has come to our docks for trade."
A Gala Of Welcome And A Foretelling Revealed
As the days passed, the people of Mist Landing began to treat me not as a stranger, but as a hero. They held a grand feast in my honor, a gala of welcome. The townsfolk, with their webbed fingers and toes, danced and sang, their voices echoing off the iridescent seashell buildings. The air was filled with the smell of roasting fish and salt, the sea breeze carrying the sounds of laughter and merriment.
In the midst of the celebration, the town elders called for silence. They gathered aroundme, their emerald eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. The eldest among them, a woman with silver streaks in her black hair, began to speak. Her voice was like the whispering wind, carrying a tale of foreboding.
"A great darkness is bearing down upon us," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "The arrival of our hero, saved by the uncanny creature of the sea, signals its approach. It is a beast that comes out of the unknown region to feed its own desire. It comes by sea in a fleet of ships with a black standard that bears a skull and cross swords. These ships carry tubes of blackness that breathe fire and balls of death."
"Pirates," I said, the realization dawning on me. The woman nodded, her gaze never leaving mine.
"First comes the storm and the uncanny thing, then comes the hero in a vessel too strange to believe but there nonetheless, and then comes the beast," she continued. "It will destroy our town and take us into slavery, as the story goes."
The words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the festivities. But as I looked around at the faces of the townsfolk, I saw not fear, but determination. They had survived the storm, and they would face this new threat with the same resilience. For in their hearts, they carried the spirit of the sea, wild and untamed. And I, the stranger brought by the whale, like it or not, would stand with them, ready to face whatever came our way.
What I never expected was the nature of the pirates that at last came to the inlet, a dozen ships quick and light armed with canons and creatures made of the stuff of nightmares. Inhuman though not unlike man entirely. Nor were they like the peopleof Mist Landing. Not fish or bottom crawler but things of the sea that seemed to mesh together all creatures beneath the rolling waves. A Chimera of uncanny descript.
But this torment did not come soon and my life became entangled in these strange and beautiful displays of natures artistry. And though I could not swim as they or breath beneath the waves I managed to fit in and the woman and her boy became more to me than they who gave me shelter. I was not or should I say not quite of that age of a manhood where my dreams lingered in the family life. I was yet filled with the spirit of youth and adventure, yet while I was there in Mist Landing I felt a certain peace to live as such, with a certain maturity quickly grown within me.
The Day Of Long Shadows On The Sea
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows on the sea, I found myself perched on the high cliffs of Mist Landing. The sea, usually a vibrant blue, was now a canvas of oranges and purples, reflecting the hues of the setting sun. The air was thick with the scent of salt and seaweed, and the rhythmic lullaby of the waves crashing against the rocks below filled the silence.
I had spent many hours here, watching the sea, ever vigilant for the prophesied arrival of the beast. The elders' words echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the impending doom. Yet, as I sat there, the sea's vastness and the sky's infinite expanse filled me with a sense of calm. It was a strange contrast, this tranquility in the face of danger.
Suddenly, a dark shape appeared on the horizon, breaking the serene monotony of the sea. Squinting against the setting sun,I could make out the silhouette of a ship, its black standard fluttering in the wind. Then another appeared, and another, until a dozen ships dotted the horizon, their long shadows stretching across the sea.
A chill ran down my spine as I realized what I was seeing. The fleet of beast had arrived. The ships were quick and light, armed with canons that glinted ominously in the fading light. But it was not the ships that filled me with dread. It was the creatures aboard them. They were inhuman, a chimera of all creatures beneath the rolling waves, just as the elder had foretold.
I rushed back to the town, my heart pounding in my chest. The merriment of the townsfolk seemed a world away as I relayed what I had seen. The music stopped, the laughter died down, and all eyes were on me. But there was no panic, only a quiet determination.
I had not thought on the subject of what I would do when the beast arrived. Now faced with the horror of it my mind raced. I should have been preparing the town to defend itself but how. They had no forges to build canons nor the ore to do so even if they had had them. Their spears and nets would be of little use and their small boats could be sunk simply with the wake of the pirate ships.
"They will be here by sunrise, but we will have a little more time since the tide will not bring them too close until the sun is past its zenith. Still, time or not we have to do something." An elder spoke and at that every eye turned toward the hero. Me.
I have always been quick in a desperate moment and it did not let me down. "Youare people of the sea and it is the sea that will save you I believe, but I have also remembered a dream from a time before I came here. Or it was a vision when I first began life on the sea. I saw this place, a ruins it was. And there piles of skeletons on the beach. I think now I was warned of my adventure and in my dream I was told of a light that would come. I never realized I was the light.
My friends. Do as I bid. Take to the sea, as deep as your bodies will allow and leave the rest to me."
Exodus Of The Towns People And The Reckoning
As the last of the townsfolk disappeared beneath the waves, I stood alone on the docks of Mist Landing. The once bustling town was now eerily silent, save for the distant echo of the sea. The tide was coming in, bringing with it the ominous fleet of the beast.
The black ships, like specters in the fading light, were drawing closer. Their long shadows stretched across the sea, a chilling reminder of the impending doom. I could see the creatures aboard, their grotesque forms silhouetted against the setting sun. But it was the sight of the command ship that sent a shiver down my spine.
Perched on the prow was a creature unlike any I had seen before. Its scales glistened in the dying light, its wings folded against its massive body. As it raised its head, I could see the glow of its eyes, burning like embers in the darkness. "A Dragon," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper in the wind.
The sight of the dragon, a creature of legends and nightmares, filled me with a dread I had never known. But as I stoodthere, watching the tide come in and the black ships approach, I felt a strange sense of calm. I was the light the elders had spoken of the beacon of hope in these dark times.
As the dragon roared, its sound echoing across the sea, I knew that the battle was far from over. But for now, the people of Mist Landing were safe in the depths of the sea, hidden from the prying eyes of the beast. And I, their chosen hero, would stand guard, ready to face whatever horrors the dawn would bring.
As the dragon took flight, its massive wings stirring the sea into a frenzy, I felt a sudden weight in my hand. Glancing down, I found that the simple spear I had been clutching had transformed into a gleaming trident. A voice, as ancient and deep as the sea itself, echoed in my mind. "Beckon me from the depths, and those who call you hero shall save themselves."
The sea began to roil, and the skies darkened with an approaching storm. The voice spoke again, its tone resolute. "Throw your spear, and I shall guide it to the dragon's heart."
The dragon breathed fire, its flames lighting up the darkening sky. The cannons on the ships roared, their sound echoing ominously across the water. But before disaster could strike, the sea people rose from the depths. With a strength born of desperation, they tore apart the hulls of the ships.
With a deep breath, I hurled the trident into the air. It glided effortlessly, its path unerring, guided by the voice from the depths. As it struck the dragon's heart, a flash of lightning illuminated the scene. The dragon let out a final roar before plummeting into the sea.
The fleet of the beast, now crippled and leaderless, was no matchfor the fury of the sea. One by one, the ships sank beneath the waves, swallowed by the very sea they had sought to conquer. As the last ship disappeared, the storm subsided, leaving only the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
I stood alone on the dock, the trident once again a simple spear in my hand. The townsfolk were safe, the beast defeated. As the dawn broke, I knew that Mist Landing would live to see another day. But the memory of the dragon and the fleet of the beast would forever be etched in my mind.
Fare You Well Back And Forth
As the sun rose, the sea began to churn once more. But this time, it was not with the approach of a beastly fleet, but with the return of the townsfolk. One by one, they emerged from the depths, their faces filled with relief and awe. The town of Mist Landing, once eerily silent, was alive with the sounds of joyous reunion.
A grand celebration was held, a victory feast like no other. Laughter echoed through the streets, and stories of bravery and survival were shared. Farewells were given back and forth, heartfelt words of gratitude and promises to remember. I, their chosen hero, was hailed with cheers and toasts.
As the celebration wound down, I found myself drawn to the sea once more. With a borrowed boat, I set out into the open water, the cheers of the townsfolk fading into the distance. The sea was calm, the sky clear. It was a perfect day for a new beginning.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The open sea became my home, the rhythm of the waves my constant companion. And then, one day, a cargo ship appeared on the horizon. I was rescued, brought aboard, andwelcomed with open arms.
As I finish my story, washing away the ink from my fingers, I can't help but wonder. I've searched the world for Mist Landing, but never found it. Now, as I prepare for my last voyage, not yet but soon, I can't help but hope. Perhaps this time, I'll find that mystical place, on the other side of that locker that rests upon the bottom of the sea and lures all sailors to their afterlife. Perhaps this time, I'll find my way back to Mist Landing.
By
Donald Harry Roberts
Prologue
As I sit at my desk, the worn-out wood creaking under the weight of my thoughts, I can't help but reflect on the adventure that unfolded in Mist Landing. The old Victorian house around me, with its high ceilings and ornate moldings, seems to echo with the whispers of that ghost town.
I remember the day I sailed out of Mist Landing, the salty sea air filling my lungs, the misty horizon swallowing the silhouette of the town. It was an adventure that few would believe, a tale so fantastical that even those who lived it questioned its reality. I left behind a ghost town, a place that seemed to exist only in the echoes of time, its remnants whispering tales of a bygone era.
To me, the adventure was as real as the ink that now stains my fingers. The people, their faces etched into my memory, their stories woven into the fabric of my being. I can still hear their laughter, see their smiles, feel the warmth of their camaraderie. They were as real to me as the desk I now sit at, as tangible as the pen in my hand.
As I sailed away, the mist grew thicker, obscuring the town from view. But just before it vanished completely, I saw them. People walking on the docks, the beam from the lighthouse cutting through the fog, houses growing out of the ground like ancient trees. Even the shanties on the piers seemed to rise from the mist, their silhouettes ghostly against the foggy backdrop.
I often wonder if I changed history. Did my presence, my actions, alter the course of time? Or was it all just a figment of my imagination, a dream woven from the threads of reality and fantasy?
As I sit here, pen in hand, Ican't help but smile. Whether real or imagined, the adventure in Mist Landing has left an indelible mark on my soul. And as I write, I hope to capture a fragment of that magic, a sliver of that mystery, a piece of that ghost town that will forever live in my heart.
Sails Set and A Fair Wind At Our Backs
The day I set sail from Southampton was one of those rare English days where the sun shone brightly, casting a golden hue over the bustling port. I was aboard a sturdy cargo ship, her hull filled with goods bound for the Caribbean. The wind was fair, the sea calm, and the sky a canvas of light cumulus clouds soaring like skyships in the azure expanse.
From my perch in the crow's nest, I had a bird's eye view of the world. Gulls danced among the top sails, their cries echoing in the salty air. Their freedom, their joy, it was infectious. I found myself laughing, the sound carried away by the wind.
I was always chosen for the crow's nest, not for my strength or my courage, but for my eyesight. It was uncanny, almost supernatural. I could spot a ship on the horizon long before anyone else, could see the subtle shift in the waves that signaled a change in the weather. Up there, with the wind in my hair and the sea stretching out in all directions, I felt invincible.
As the ship pulled away from the dock, I watched as Southampton slowly receded into the distance. The hustle and bustle of the port, the shouts of the dockworkers, the creaking of the cranes, all slowly faded into silence. All that was left was the sea, the sky, and the promise of adventure.
And so, with sails set and a fair windat our backs, our journey began. Little did I know then, the adventure that awaited me in Mist Landing, the ghost town that would leave an indelible mark on my soul. But that is a story for another time. For now, there was only the sea, the sky, and the open road ahead.
A few days into our journey, my keen eyes noticed a subtle change in the colour of the sea. The once clear blue waters had turned a dark, ominous shade, and the smell of the air grew tart and uncomfortably warm. I descended the mast swiftly, my heart pounding in my chest.
I found the captain on the deck, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Sir," I said, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at my insides, "a storm is coming. And it comes this way quickly." My tone was ominous, a stark contrast to the calm before the storm.
The captain, a seasoned sailor, never questioned my warnings. This was our fifth voyage together, and though he had elevated me to midshipman, I still spent my watches atop in the crow's nest. He trusted my eyes, my instincts.
I returned to my perch as the captain barked out orders, his voice cutting through the growing wind. The crew scrambled to secure the sails and batten down the hatches, their faces etched with worry.
Not long thereafter, the storm was upon us. The sky darkened, the wind howled, and the sea roared in fury. A sudden change of wind direction and a heaving gust tossed me out of the nest. I was falling, the sea rushing up to meet me.
And then, I was engulfed by the cold, unforgiving sea. The world around me was a whirl of chaos and confusion. Even if I did not drown instantly death was swirling aroundme.
A Whale of A Time
The sea was a tempest, tossing me about like a ragdoll. I was not dragged to the depths of Davy's Locker, but instead, I was sent aloft, high above the curling waves. The storm raged relentlessly, the sea and sky indistinguishable in the chaos.
Then, in the midst of the turmoil, I was swallowed into the maw of a great creature. Not down its throat into its belly, but into a cavernous space that was strangely calm amidst the storm. The creature, a whale of immense size, carried me off, away from the storm.
I don't know how long I was in the belly of the beast, time seemed to lose all meaning. But eventually, I was expelled onto an unknown shore, a mist-shrouded inlet. The incoming tide carried me to the docks of a sea town, the lap of water lifting me onto the dock.
Exhausted, I fell unconscious, the last of my energy spent. I remember nothing more until I woke in a cot in a shanty, the smell of salt and fish heavy in the air. The storm had passed, and I was alive, saved by the very sea that had threatened to claim my life.
With newfound strength, I climbed to my feet and ventured outside. The beach was dotted with a cluster of shanties, their structures gleaming in the sunlight. As I approached, I saw the oddest sort of people. They were like the merfolk from the tales of the colonies, as comfortable in the water as they were on land. Their fingers and toes were webbed, and they had legs, not fish tails.
The buildings, even the shanties, were made of sea shells, their iridescent surfaces shimmering in the sunlight. The boats, beached and moored to the docks, were long and narrow, with a singlemast and sail. The mast was not fixed but could be placed at different angles, a design I had never seen before.
Their skin was ashen, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of their surroundings. Their eyes were emerald, with long narrow pupils that gave them an otherworldly appearance. Their hair was black with streaks of silver, flowing freely in the sea breeze.
As I stood there, taking in the sight a woman and a boy came to me. "You are well?!" the woman said in a salty whispering voice. And though she spoke English it had an odd tone and structure to it.
"It seems the storm and the sea have given me a gift, but I dare not guess what sort it is. Where am I?"
"You have washed ashore in Mist Landing but saved by an uncanny creature, one that at any or most times would have swallowed you for a meal."
"The whale. So I did not dream it."
"No. I think it brought you here for a reason, one that would benefit itself and maybe us."
"What possible reason could that be?"
The girl shrugged her shoulders and answered, "Strange happening have touched our town and for weeks now no ship has come to our docks for trade."
A Gala Of Welcome And A Foretelling Revealed
As the days passed, the people of Mist Landing began to treat me not as a stranger, but as a hero. They held a grand feast in my honor, a gala of welcome. The townsfolk, with their webbed fingers and toes, danced and sang, their voices echoing off the iridescent seashell buildings. The air was filled with the smell of roasting fish and salt, the sea breeze carrying the sounds of laughter and merriment.
In the midst of the celebration, the town elders called for silence. They gathered aroundme, their emerald eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. The eldest among them, a woman with silver streaks in her black hair, began to speak. Her voice was like the whispering wind, carrying a tale of foreboding.
"A great darkness is bearing down upon us," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "The arrival of our hero, saved by the uncanny creature of the sea, signals its approach. It is a beast that comes out of the unknown region to feed its own desire. It comes by sea in a fleet of ships with a black standard that bears a skull and cross swords. These ships carry tubes of blackness that breathe fire and balls of death."
"Pirates," I said, the realization dawning on me. The woman nodded, her gaze never leaving mine.
"First comes the storm and the uncanny thing, then comes the hero in a vessel too strange to believe but there nonetheless, and then comes the beast," she continued. "It will destroy our town and take us into slavery, as the story goes."
The words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the festivities. But as I looked around at the faces of the townsfolk, I saw not fear, but determination. They had survived the storm, and they would face this new threat with the same resilience. For in their hearts, they carried the spirit of the sea, wild and untamed. And I, the stranger brought by the whale, like it or not, would stand with them, ready to face whatever came our way.
What I never expected was the nature of the pirates that at last came to the inlet, a dozen ships quick and light armed with canons and creatures made of the stuff of nightmares. Inhuman though not unlike man entirely. Nor were they like the peopleof Mist Landing. Not fish or bottom crawler but things of the sea that seemed to mesh together all creatures beneath the rolling waves. A Chimera of uncanny descript.
But this torment did not come soon and my life became entangled in these strange and beautiful displays of natures artistry. And though I could not swim as they or breath beneath the waves I managed to fit in and the woman and her boy became more to me than they who gave me shelter. I was not or should I say not quite of that age of a manhood where my dreams lingered in the family life. I was yet filled with the spirit of youth and adventure, yet while I was there in Mist Landing I felt a certain peace to live as such, with a certain maturity quickly grown within me.
The Day Of Long Shadows On The Sea
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows on the sea, I found myself perched on the high cliffs of Mist Landing. The sea, usually a vibrant blue, was now a canvas of oranges and purples, reflecting the hues of the setting sun. The air was thick with the scent of salt and seaweed, and the rhythmic lullaby of the waves crashing against the rocks below filled the silence.
I had spent many hours here, watching the sea, ever vigilant for the prophesied arrival of the beast. The elders' words echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of the impending doom. Yet, as I sat there, the sea's vastness and the sky's infinite expanse filled me with a sense of calm. It was a strange contrast, this tranquility in the face of danger.
Suddenly, a dark shape appeared on the horizon, breaking the serene monotony of the sea. Squinting against the setting sun,I could make out the silhouette of a ship, its black standard fluttering in the wind. Then another appeared, and another, until a dozen ships dotted the horizon, their long shadows stretching across the sea.
A chill ran down my spine as I realized what I was seeing. The fleet of beast had arrived. The ships were quick and light, armed with canons that glinted ominously in the fading light. But it was not the ships that filled me with dread. It was the creatures aboard them. They were inhuman, a chimera of all creatures beneath the rolling waves, just as the elder had foretold.
I rushed back to the town, my heart pounding in my chest. The merriment of the townsfolk seemed a world away as I relayed what I had seen. The music stopped, the laughter died down, and all eyes were on me. But there was no panic, only a quiet determination.
I had not thought on the subject of what I would do when the beast arrived. Now faced with the horror of it my mind raced. I should have been preparing the town to defend itself but how. They had no forges to build canons nor the ore to do so even if they had had them. Their spears and nets would be of little use and their small boats could be sunk simply with the wake of the pirate ships.
"They will be here by sunrise, but we will have a little more time since the tide will not bring them too close until the sun is past its zenith. Still, time or not we have to do something." An elder spoke and at that every eye turned toward the hero. Me.
I have always been quick in a desperate moment and it did not let me down. "Youare people of the sea and it is the sea that will save you I believe, but I have also remembered a dream from a time before I came here. Or it was a vision when I first began life on the sea. I saw this place, a ruins it was. And there piles of skeletons on the beach. I think now I was warned of my adventure and in my dream I was told of a light that would come. I never realized I was the light.
My friends. Do as I bid. Take to the sea, as deep as your bodies will allow and leave the rest to me."
Exodus Of The Towns People And The Reckoning
As the last of the townsfolk disappeared beneath the waves, I stood alone on the docks of Mist Landing. The once bustling town was now eerily silent, save for the distant echo of the sea. The tide was coming in, bringing with it the ominous fleet of the beast.
The black ships, like specters in the fading light, were drawing closer. Their long shadows stretched across the sea, a chilling reminder of the impending doom. I could see the creatures aboard, their grotesque forms silhouetted against the setting sun. But it was the sight of the command ship that sent a shiver down my spine.
Perched on the prow was a creature unlike any I had seen before. Its scales glistened in the dying light, its wings folded against its massive body. As it raised its head, I could see the glow of its eyes, burning like embers in the darkness. "A Dragon," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper in the wind.
The sight of the dragon, a creature of legends and nightmares, filled me with a dread I had never known. But as I stoodthere, watching the tide come in and the black ships approach, I felt a strange sense of calm. I was the light the elders had spoken of the beacon of hope in these dark times.
As the dragon roared, its sound echoing across the sea, I knew that the battle was far from over. But for now, the people of Mist Landing were safe in the depths of the sea, hidden from the prying eyes of the beast. And I, their chosen hero, would stand guard, ready to face whatever horrors the dawn would bring.
As the dragon took flight, its massive wings stirring the sea into a frenzy, I felt a sudden weight in my hand. Glancing down, I found that the simple spear I had been clutching had transformed into a gleaming trident. A voice, as ancient and deep as the sea itself, echoed in my mind. "Beckon me from the depths, and those who call you hero shall save themselves."
The sea began to roil, and the skies darkened with an approaching storm. The voice spoke again, its tone resolute. "Throw your spear, and I shall guide it to the dragon's heart."
The dragon breathed fire, its flames lighting up the darkening sky. The cannons on the ships roared, their sound echoing ominously across the water. But before disaster could strike, the sea people rose from the depths. With a strength born of desperation, they tore apart the hulls of the ships.
With a deep breath, I hurled the trident into the air. It glided effortlessly, its path unerring, guided by the voice from the depths. As it struck the dragon's heart, a flash of lightning illuminated the scene. The dragon let out a final roar before plummeting into the sea.
The fleet of the beast, now crippled and leaderless, was no matchfor the fury of the sea. One by one, the ships sank beneath the waves, swallowed by the very sea they had sought to conquer. As the last ship disappeared, the storm subsided, leaving only the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
I stood alone on the dock, the trident once again a simple spear in my hand. The townsfolk were safe, the beast defeated. As the dawn broke, I knew that Mist Landing would live to see another day. But the memory of the dragon and the fleet of the beast would forever be etched in my mind.
Fare You Well Back And Forth
As the sun rose, the sea began to churn once more. But this time, it was not with the approach of a beastly fleet, but with the return of the townsfolk. One by one, they emerged from the depths, their faces filled with relief and awe. The town of Mist Landing, once eerily silent, was alive with the sounds of joyous reunion.
A grand celebration was held, a victory feast like no other. Laughter echoed through the streets, and stories of bravery and survival were shared. Farewells were given back and forth, heartfelt words of gratitude and promises to remember. I, their chosen hero, was hailed with cheers and toasts.
As the celebration wound down, I found myself drawn to the sea once more. With a borrowed boat, I set out into the open water, the cheers of the townsfolk fading into the distance. The sea was calm, the sky clear. It was a perfect day for a new beginning.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The open sea became my home, the rhythm of the waves my constant companion. And then, one day, a cargo ship appeared on the horizon. I was rescued, brought aboard, andwelcomed with open arms.
As I finish my story, washing away the ink from my fingers, I can't help but wonder. I've searched the world for Mist Landing, but never found it. Now, as I prepare for my last voyage, not yet but soon, I can't help but hope. Perhaps this time, I'll find that mystical place, on the other side of that locker that rests upon the bottom of the sea and lures all sailors to their afterlife. Perhaps this time, I'll find my way back to Mist Landing.
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