I was always a good liar. I hear my voice, shaking and groaning, telling the Captain that I accept his offer. I feel my mouth curving out into a satisfied smile, as I stared at the players across me, calling out the dice as I went along. I see my hands shift and shudder, day by day, and I tell myself, not to worry, Maccus, not to worry, this will past. And I hear my own voice, shaky and weak, and I watch my other hand, with a barnacle attached to it, struggle to scrub off the invading blue.
I was always a good observer. I was on the cursed ship longer than Jimmylegs or Palifico. I was here before any of them. I watched the new members of the crew get dragged aboard, watch as they accept their fate, watch those brave ones that don't get flung overboard and killed. I watched as the cannons fire and fire, watch ships crack and die, hear them moan in pain. I watched my own hands shift and move, watched as they wielded the axe and change from human to beast. And I feel myself, changing and shifting, in something else.
I was always a good fighter. I smell the blood on the air, smell it on my lips and hands and body, as I slide through the throngs of filthy navy soldiers, a spray of blood following in my wake. I hear bones crack and a groan of pain and I feel myself smiling as I slammed a fool to the ground. I see myself, my body change, month by month, year by year to reflect my nature, and I tell myself, Maccus, this is good. And I feel myself grinning, a snarl different from my former smile and I hear the remaining memories die without a fight.
And when I step beside the Captain, his peg-leg loud against the wooden, rotted boards, and I hear him say to the ship, "This be your new first mate lads!". And I feel proud. I heard someone laughing, low and harsh, and I hear myself, the first mate of the cursed ship, and I feel a tear trickle from my eye, sliding and dripping down my face, gone forever.
And... Done. Press the review button please! (.)