Taken from Cpt. Flint's message in a bottle:
"I sincerely regret to inform the reader that the story that they're about to encounter is neither about true love, destiny, or right conquering wrong. This is a story about heartache, piracy, and abandonment. This is my story. My name is Captain Samuel "Flint" Henders. I am now thirty one years of age. I do believe I am the most miserable person on God's earth, and I thought someone else should know. However, I can't start the story here. My story begins fifteen long years ago in December.
Elyse and I were always best of friends. We'd play together, sing together, there were even a few moments to both of our enjoyment where we even lusted together by kissing in the gardens of her mother's mistress's house. Elyse's mother was a nurse for a rather wealthy family, the name of which escapes me at the moment, but they were constantly out of the area. Perhaps that is why I am unable to recall the name. I myself worked for the school's headmaster. I would copy manuscripts and run errands. I would tend to the children and act as a monitor. There was no doubt in my mind that she loved me because she told me so herself. Often. I could literally inhale her beauty and warmth and exhale our perfect love.
When my grandfather died two months after my fourteenth birthday, my family traveled to Marseilles for the funeral. After the procession and the requiem and all the other sad things, I decided to take a look around the French market place to see if there were any souvenirs of my French journey to take home to England. The streets were noisy, stuffy and I was losing items quicker than I was attaining them.
My family constantly chided me for my strong headed behavior. After my next encounter, my mother said I would've made a fantastic night in shining armor. I was briefly stalled at a silk and satin vendor, feeling and caressing the soft materials. Perhaps I could use them to make something for Elyse, I though when a screech in an alleyway directly in front of me caught my attention. I jogged over to find an old woman being senselessly beaten by thugs. She lay slumped against the wall, red blood splattered upon her grey hair. As soon as I ran to her rescue, the assailants bailed and before I could assist her to her feet, she was up and grasping my hands in her wiry, small, and wrinkled ones. The crone's clothing reminded me of stories I had heard from older men that attend the school about gypsies and bohemians. Her long curly hair was partially covered by a beaded scarf and her actual dress seemed to be made only out of other dresses.
"Such a brave lad be deserven a prize, do ye think?" The scratchy voice and her muffled French confused me so I remained standing like a statue in front of her. "Of course ye does! Hold our yer hand." The frail woman grasped my hands tighter and forced my palms upward. I remained there like that for a few moments while her small prune-like hands searched her various pockets and bags. Disappointedly, she looked up at me and folded her hands as though she were about to convey her regrets. As soon as she did, her eyes suddenly widened and sparkled.
Into my open palms she dropped two completely identical rings. They were both silver bands that wrapped around a pale and glowing stone. As I brought my face up to hers in gratitude, I saw nothing but a grinning skull. With a girlish shriek, I tore out of the alleyway and straight into my mother's arms.
Upon arrival home, I met with Elyse and presented her the ring beneath the moonlight with these words, "We were meant to be together. Always."
A year after that, of course, she met Theodore.
Theodore never said anything except awkward groups of words that usually went unheard anyway. Whenever Elyse was around him, however, they both seemed to light up. He would whisper sweet things in her ears that I was meant to say. How she made my heart sing. How I wanted to always be with her. How we were MEANT to be together. Yet, throughout all his flirting she wore my ring.
Two months later when I heard Elyse and Theodore were to be wed, I locked myself in my chamber for a week. All I wanted to do was die or get as far away as possible. I tried killing myself by creating a rope out of my sheets and hanging myself with them. The sheet kept ripping. When committing suicide proved to not be an option, I chose the latter. I packed my bags, kissed my mother goodbye and I was off to America. Yet nothing...no matter how far away I was...nothing could keep me from crying myself to sleep every night.
"I sincerely regret to inform the reader that the story that they're about to encounter is neither about true love, destiny, or right conquering wrong. This is a story about heartache, piracy, and abandonment. This is my story. My name is Captain Samuel "Flint" Henders. I am now thirty one years of age. I do believe I am the most miserable person on God's earth, and I thought someone else should know. However, I can't start the story here. My story begins fifteen long years ago in December.
Elyse and I were always best of friends. We'd play together, sing together, there were even a few moments to both of our enjoyment where we even lusted together by kissing in the gardens of her mother's mistress's house. Elyse's mother was a nurse for a rather wealthy family, the name of which escapes me at the moment, but they were constantly out of the area. Perhaps that is why I am unable to recall the name. I myself worked for the school's headmaster. I would copy manuscripts and run errands. I would tend to the children and act as a monitor. There was no doubt in my mind that she loved me because she told me so herself. Often. I could literally inhale her beauty and warmth and exhale our perfect love.
When my grandfather died two months after my fourteenth birthday, my family traveled to Marseilles for the funeral. After the procession and the requiem and all the other sad things, I decided to take a look around the French market place to see if there were any souvenirs of my French journey to take home to England. The streets were noisy, stuffy and I was losing items quicker than I was attaining them.
My family constantly chided me for my strong headed behavior. After my next encounter, my mother said I would've made a fantastic night in shining armor. I was briefly stalled at a silk and satin vendor, feeling and caressing the soft materials. Perhaps I could use them to make something for Elyse, I though when a screech in an alleyway directly in front of me caught my attention. I jogged over to find an old woman being senselessly beaten by thugs. She lay slumped against the wall, red blood splattered upon her grey hair. As soon as I ran to her rescue, the assailants bailed and before I could assist her to her feet, she was up and grasping my hands in her wiry, small, and wrinkled ones. The crone's clothing reminded me of stories I had heard from older men that attend the school about gypsies and bohemians. Her long curly hair was partially covered by a beaded scarf and her actual dress seemed to be made only out of other dresses.
"Such a brave lad be deserven a prize, do ye think?" The scratchy voice and her muffled French confused me so I remained standing like a statue in front of her. "Of course ye does! Hold our yer hand." The frail woman grasped my hands tighter and forced my palms upward. I remained there like that for a few moments while her small prune-like hands searched her various pockets and bags. Disappointedly, she looked up at me and folded her hands as though she were about to convey her regrets. As soon as she did, her eyes suddenly widened and sparkled.
Into my open palms she dropped two completely identical rings. They were both silver bands that wrapped around a pale and glowing stone. As I brought my face up to hers in gratitude, I saw nothing but a grinning skull. With a girlish shriek, I tore out of the alleyway and straight into my mother's arms.
Upon arrival home, I met with Elyse and presented her the ring beneath the moonlight with these words, "We were meant to be together. Always."
A year after that, of course, she met Theodore.
Theodore never said anything except awkward groups of words that usually went unheard anyway. Whenever Elyse was around him, however, they both seemed to light up. He would whisper sweet things in her ears that I was meant to say. How she made my heart sing. How I wanted to always be with her. How we were MEANT to be together. Yet, throughout all his flirting she wore my ring.
Two months later when I heard Elyse and Theodore were to be wed, I locked myself in my chamber for a week. All I wanted to do was die or get as far away as possible. I tried killing myself by creating a rope out of my sheets and hanging myself with them. The sheet kept ripping. When committing suicide proved to not be an option, I chose the latter. I packed my bags, kissed my mother goodbye and I was off to America. Yet nothing...no matter how far away I was...nothing could keep me from crying myself to sleep every night.