Summary: Entry for AVAST! Pirate Edward Contest by DirtyEdwardLovers-Contests. This will be a short story - Max 6000 words (not including author's notes & disclaimers).

During the eighteenth century, travelling was dangerous. Highwaymen terrorized travelers on the roads and pirates ruled the seas. Edward and his parents were robbed and shot by a gang of highwaymen. Edward was brought back from the brink of death by a vampire. He vowed to avenge his parents' deaths. His search for his enemies, led him to the sea. Join Edward in some swashbuckling adventures as he becomes a pirate captain to destroy the villainous murders who had taken away the most precious things in his life. By the time he's done with the villains, they would wish that they had killed him when they had the chance.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Any songs used in this story belong to the writers, studios, and artists. No copyright infringement intended. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

England 1712

I'm laying on the cold, hard ground. My life's blood draining out of me. My ears still ringing from the gunfire, but otherwise, it's eerily quiet. Even the animals are silent. Maybe like me, they're afraid to show any signs of life.

Scenes from the attack flashed through my mind. Gunshots shattering the tranquilily of the forest. Our spooked horses taking off. The carriage careening after the team. Hooves thundering as our attackers perused us. More gunshots. Mother's cry before she slumped in her seat. Someone getting the horses under control followed by the demand to "Stand and deliver!" Father and I getting out of the carriage and removing our valuables. The order to get Mother's jewelry. Father's anguished cry when he'd realized Mother had't fainted, but had been shot in the back and had died during the shootout. The fear in the French bandit's eyes as he'd beheld Mother's lifeless body. Another gunshot. The surprised look on Father's face before he'd crumbled to the ground dead. Another shot. Pain had ripped through my chest. I felt like screaming, not from the excruciating pain, but to rail at the senseless deaths of my parents. I wanted to kill our attackers, but I was helpless. My only hope is to remain still and go for help after they leave.

The bandits were arguing. I concentrated on what they were saying, hoping they'd let something slip, after all, they thought I was dead.

"James, you've done it this time. Why did you shoot them?"

"I didn't like the way the boy looked at me."

"We could've threatened them. Now, because of your trigger finger, we'd be wanted for murder."

"If he'd described us, we would be hung anyway."

"Stop this pointless arguing. We have to get out of here." The third man said.

"We should cross the Channel until things calm down," said the French man.

Both my parents had been killed because of greed and a total disregard for life. For all they knew, I was dead also. Yet, these cold blooded murderers were calmly plotting their escape. I prayed for vengeance. If I get out of this alive, I'll track them down and kill them.

After the sound of hoof beats faded, I tried to get up. Pain sliced through me. I almost blacked out. It would be impossible to get on a horse, much less ride for help, and I may bleed to death before another traveler comes along, but I couldn't let these men get away with their crimes against my family. There had to be something I could do. Something that would point to the men who had perpetrated this travesty.

I gingerly rolled to my side. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I reached into my breast pocket for my journal. The cover was slick with blood, but what had me riveted, was the hole in the bottom. These bound pages had slowed down the bullet. I was almost overwhelmed by my emotions. I took a ragged breath, forcing myself back to the task at hand. I picked up a twig and dipped it into the blood oozing from the hole in my chest.

I wrote.

James. Blue eyes, straw colored hair, medium height and build with pale skin.

I dipped my makeshift quill into my blood again.

Second man. Tall, dark brown eyes and jet black hair. Dark complexion.

More blood.

Third man - wild, red hair, green eyes. Short and skinny.

Headed for the coast.

It had been difficult to write. The note looked as if it had been written by a child, but it was legible. I clutched the journal in my hand, hoping that when our bodies were found, the sheriff could use this to help in his investigations. Was it poetic justice that the blood the bandits had spilled was used to write the damming evidence that may be used against them? I hope this would be enough to capture them and send them to the gallows. I pictured three bodies hanging next to each other twitching as the life drained out of them. I want vengeance, whether I live to see it or not.

I was beginning to feel sleepy. Not wanting my last thoughts to be about these vile men, I thought of my parents. My mind replayed moments of my childhood and memories of my years at school. Finally, the picture of my beautiful betrothed filled my mind. Her alabaster skin, dark brows and lashes framing large, deep brown eyes, and her abundance of brown hair. I thought of the last time I'd seen her. I felt the silky softness of her lips as she'd tentatively kissed my cheek when we'd said goodbye. It felt so real, her delicate floral perfume wafted in the air. Then it dawned on me. The scent was from the handkerchief that I'd begged her for. I'd placed it in my shirt pocket next to my heart, and had transferred it each time I'd changed. I reached for it. I took a deep breath, letting her scent invade every cell in my body. Even in this weaken state, my sex stirred. It's a fitting way for my life to end. Feeling the potent desire that I always felt for Isabella. My Isabella, the most enchanting, bewitching young lady I know. The kiss. Asking for her favor. Could we have subconsciously known that we would not see each other again?

"Goodbye my sweet Isabella. Maybe we'll meet again in another life."

A/N: There are many sites dedicated to the Lugat and other blood drinkers.