Scrawling a bit of Fiction IV

8 10 2012

And here is the first in a series of assaults on the short fiction challenges that are the archived Picture it and Write prompts hosted by the ladies over at ermiliablog. This is an older entry in the series that for one reason or another I didn’t get the chance to contribute to. I’m remedying that however. These challenges are just too much fun!


I don’t even remember where this cup came from. The Bahamas somewhere? Spain? Portugal? California? My memory was starting to mimic my body. Where had it all gone so wrong? When had we started sailing this way?

“You know what you need to do.” The voice was raspy and weathered like the walls of my cabin. When had they gotten so worn?

The cup was beautiful. A hundred years old I think. It possessed a gleam that was not its own, like it had been polished with the soul of a saint; pure and forgiving and warm. I hated it. I despised that it was these things. I had been like that once decades ago. I think. Why can’t I remember?

“Drink.” The voice floated across the cabin. The speaker was impossible to see in the dim lamplight. Perhaps that was a blessing. I know this is my cabin but what monster now called it home I could not say.

I picked up the cup and brought it to my mouth. I trembled under the weight of the liquid, what was left of the muscles in my fingers straining to keep me from wearing it. I drank. I drank it all.

At first there was nothing. But after a moment it all started to come rushing back, flowing like a great river of memories and dreams. The grand ship I once commanded, now pirating across the globe. The monster in the cave. The cup. The deal…

I could feel the wrinkles fade as skin tightened and muscle strained and became new again. I felt the life swell up in my veins, my youth returning in waves of bittersweet joy. Around me the ship cabin creaked and snapped and heaved itself apart and back again until the wood was like new.

Light flooded the place  and outside the door I could hear the rest of the ship following suit.

“What have you done to me? I told you I would never drink that swill again.” I spat into the corner. There, between a lavish globe fashioned of marble and a massive map table of oak, a shadow remained. I could feel the beast taunt me from within the out-of-place darkness.

“You knew what you were asking, dear captain.” The darkness hissed.

“I told you I would never sip from that cup again.”

“And yet here you are, life renewed. It was not I that spilled the blood you consumed. You could have said no. You could have given her a choice.”

“Her? Oh no.”





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