Not much to say... really. I started working on a sequel to The Rain Cant Hurt Me Now, but it's not posted yet. It's humour (or is supposed to be). I need something light-hearted after all this melodrama.
Replies are at the end of the chapter.
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The winds picked up as the HMS Swallow lined up alongside the Royal Fortune. A few raindrops escaped the dark grey skies and pattered noisily onto the grimy deck. Meryl peered at the two ships from the deck of The Imprintor, The Renegade Siren having retreated a little further back.
Cannon fire broke out between the ships. Meryl dug her nails into her blood red dress as she watched Bart intently through Jack's telescope. The rain began to beat heavily upon her, chilling her to the bone. She shivered, wondering how long she could stand to sit and watch as the love of her life put himself in mortal danger.
But Meryl Volleys was never very patient. She took to her feet and drew her dagger, slicing the ropes of a rower and free-falling from the ledge to the water beside it. She took up the oars and made her way over to the Royal Fortune slowly, squinting as the raindrops impaired her vision.
She climbed up the port side of the Royal Fortune, hauling her drenched self over the rail and into the complete disarray that was the deck of Bart's ship. For a single frantic moment she couldn't see him at all, until this fear melted away as her eyes locked on his sword-wielding silhouette as he battled with some lobsterback or other.
The cannons continued to rage as the storm blew itself into a full-on gale. Suddenly, abruptly, one cannon seemed to ring out above the rest, not louder, but much more distinct. It screeched it's blood-curdling cry, echoing in her ears as she watched Bart's form stagger and crumple erratically onto the deck.
Dead.
Oblivious to the inherent danger of her actions, Meryl raced across the deck, a breathy cry escaping her lips. She dropped to the ground, cradling Bart's head to her own. Her eyes closed and gripped his lifeless body to hers, blood seeping from his neck where the cannon had administered it's killing blow.
He's dead. She heard the cannon fire stop. He's dead. He's gone. The decks quieted. Meryl realized that she hadn't moved for almost half an hour. And neither had Bart. He's dead. Dead. Gone. Dead! The HMS Swallow was gone, The Imprintor's crew just arriving, boarding the ruined ship with quiet reverence. A hand rested on her shoulder.
"Meryl, luv." It was Jack. She released Bart's body to his men and turned to face her captain bravely. He stared at her sadly, but she simply brushed past him and ran below decks to Bart's old cabin. Her eyes were dry. She felt empty- she had no tears to speak of. It was impossible to shed a tear.
The door creaked open and thus entered a sombre-looking Jack. He paused a long while before speaking. "He was the one, then?"
She nodded slowly. "I loved him." Tears began to brim up behind her eyes. "I really did." They burst forth in a torrent of little sobs. She flung herself into Jack's open arms and buried her face in the cloth of his jacket.
Meryl Volleys was crying.
Jack hated it. He could never stand to see a woman cry. "Shhh... Don't cry, Meryl luv. Don't cry now..." His hand patted her back affectionately. "Don't cry..."
"He loved me, Jack!" She sniffed, pulling back from the embrace to stare at him through her tears. "He loved me! Nobody has ever loved me before!"
Jack reached up and gently caressed her ruddy cheek. "I love you, Meryl darling."
This did not help the situation.
Meryl took to her feet. "Not like him!" And, gathering her heavy skirts in her hands, she fled the room. The pain inside of her, the emotional agony, was actually causing her physical pain. A dull ache was coursing from deep within her chest, her hands were shaking, and her body had resorted to it's oversensitive shivers that usually plagued her when she was ill.
He was gone. He was gone forever and she had never even told him what she had managed to confess to Jack- that she was in love. And she would never see him again.
Meryl had no belief in God, no belief in afterlife, no belief in fate, or love-at-first-sight. In fact, there was hardly anything intangible that she did believe in. And as far as Meryl knew, Bart was gone from her life. Gone. She would never see him again. Never. Never, never, never!
He was dead now, reduced to a bloody corpse that lay up on deck surrounded by blood, and a memory, doomed to grow ancient within her and become as faded as the wind. There was nothing left now...
***
Review Replies:
Erin Richards-
Well, I think feminist ideas are way overused in historical fiction, so I'm trying to keep Meryl's activism to a minimum. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE UPDATE YOUR STORY SOOOOOOOOOOOON!
Queen's Own Fool-
Don't you know boys have cooties? Hahaha, just kidding… men, I could live without 'em- they're all idiots!
Elentari II-
Yay! I feel appreciated!
divinething-
I'm starting a new THE RAIN CANT HURT ME NOW sequel- I'll tell you when its posted!
