Young Writers Society

Chris fingered the golden artifact, gaping at its authenticity. Such a historical find was a breakthrough, shedding life on the early eighteen century - the golden era of piracy.

He probably shouldn’t have been handling it without gloves on, but Chris was greedy in his fascination with the pirates. The short man examined the object closely, his thinning brown hair falling in his face. He brushed it away quickly; his eyes were hungry. He had heard every story, unraveling the facts from the myths, and after twenty-five years of searching, he finally held the truth in his worn, lined hand.

Dating back to 1717, the hilt was embellished with beautiful swirling patterns representing the seven seas. Inside these vast oceans, were fish, aquatic plant life, and even humans sinking to their untimely ends. One mighty image towered over all of these detailed embellishments - The Dresden. The captivating beauty of these historic designs marveled the no longer young treasure hunter.

It was a magnificent vessel - made of beautiful English Oak, a fine hard wood perfect for a fully rigged Merchant fighting vessel like The Dresden. Named after the city in which the first captain had been born, the old gal had once been an English trading ship - bringing treasures to Africa where they were exchanged for slaves, working hands for the citizens of the new world. It had been equipped to be safeguarded from the menacing pirates drifting along the seven seas - looting and pillaging at every chance.

Of course, that didn’t stop the barbarians. The pirates tortured and killed every single man aboard The Dresden on that fateful day - taking the cursed ship as their own.

Legend has it that the newly crowned pirate captain of The Dresden, Argus Dagger, was an obsessive man. He became infatuated with the idea of dominating every ocean on Earth . Dagger believed that if he controlled the world’s oceans, then he also controlled the world’s transportation and all trade – making him the wealthiest man in all of history. He was the filthiest and nastiest pirate who had ever lived. He never took anyone alive. There is even a story that he once made a young boy pull out his mother’s own intestines while a crowd of unruly pirates laughed and sang while watching.

At this thought, Chris chuckled. This gruesome story had been the reason he was drawn to the frugal figure and the conundrum. Although people all around the globe had heard the tale, no one had ever gone searching for Argus’s treasure - thought to be close to one billion dollars in gold. One billion dollars was lying somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, hidden for nearly three centuries. And Chris had found it. The golden remains of this sword were just the beginning of his good fortune.

As if in victory, the man raised the pretend sword above his head. He nodded and brought it down quickly. As the blade slammed down on the table, Chris felt a sudden jolt.

* * *

“That’s the last of them, cap’n,” said a gnarly man. He grinned and I was immediately horrified. All of the man’s teeth but three were missing. The three that lay in the front bottom of his mouth were completely blackened - as if someone had left them on the stove too long.

In front of him he held a girl, no older than twenty. There was a rust coloured dagger held to her throat, creating a deep imprint. She looked at me with defiant eyes - a look of hatred, a look of horror.

Next to her was a little boy with a gun held to his temple. He looked confused as he stared at me, his face contorted so that he wouldn’t cry. His green eyes pleaded with me - as if at any moment he would burst into sobs and beg me to spare him. The only reason the little boy did not cry must have been the expression I could feel on my face: cruel, repugnant, merciless. There was nothing he could do to change my mind.

The man who held the child captive spoke. His hands, face, and hair were filthy - matted with grease, dirt and chunks of food. A swinish odour came from his direction, choking my nostrils.

“We found these two hidin’ in a spare closet ‘hind the artillery. The girl is pretty cap’n - we thought you may have her for your personal use. As for the boy, well, we need some entertainment here tonight to celebrate our victory.” The gruesome figure chuckled maliciously, leering at the boy. The boy continued to stare straight at me, his eyes filled to the brim with salty tears.

Visible in the glint of their identical green eyes, the girl was his mother. My gaze stumbled back to her. Her curly blonde hair was the colour of pure gold. The afternoon sun hit it at just the right angle, enhancing her rosy cheeks. She was very beautiful, indeed. Peculiarly, she did not speak. We simply stood like two enemies in the final climatic scene - she and her child were the only thing in the way of my goal. Before I had finished this thought, my lips moved without intent.

“Kill them both,” an unfamiliar voice stated. “She is tainted.”

The quiet whisper of the voice dissipated, and the upheaval of the pirate’s cheers rocked the boat.

The boy and his mother now stood strapped to the flagstaff on the stern of the ship. My feet paced back and forth without the influence of my mind. How could this be? Who was I? Where was I?

As I circled the captives, the crew stood back, awaiting my decision. Their faces revealed anxiety - like children waiting for Christmas day. I tried so hard, willing my mind to cease the movement of my feet, to wipe the smirks off their faces, but nothing seemed to work. I realized that I was inhibiting the body of a stranger, and that I had no right to make such decisions for him. I was simply here to watch the chaotic events unfold.

Suddenly, every jeer and cheer of the crowd was cut off by the squeak of my boots. My muscles unwillingly curled into a smile. I had stopped right in front of her - so close that she could smell the brandy on my lips. Her eyes continued to defy me, glaring at the features of my face. Her glances were like the waves of the ocean consuming me from me all sides - ravishing, elegant, yet disastrous.

The deadly silence was upon us.

“Doest thou consider thyself a lady?” The voice was milky, smooth. It was the voice that could charm even death itself - the voice of an English gentleman. Nonetheless, the voice was not my own.

“I am more of a lady than you are a man,” came the woman’s sly response. A few pirates in the crowd snickered at this.

Appearing to ignore the remark, I continued on.

“If you are a noble lady, then you very well know who I am.” My hand quickly moved up to the left side of her face, stroking it. She was disgusted by the gesture.

“I know exactly who you are, Argus Dagger.”

The smiled was wiped off of my lips.

With this sentence, my mind swirled off into a fluster of thoughts. What was happening? Why was I in Argus Dagger’s body? Ten minutes ago, I had been safe in the museum, examining the greatesr archaeological find of my career. Had I been transported three hundred years back in time? If so, where was my own body?

Again, my thoughts were cut short by another fluid movement by my host. He nearly jumped back, a meter away from the girl.

“Untie the boy. Coates and Damon, hold his hands behind his back and bring him to me.”

When the boy was in front of me, standing on his own two feet, his height emphasized his youth and defenselessness. He was not scrawny though, nor poorly dressed. He was just a scared little boy.

I crouched down in front of him, faking friendliness.

“Didst thou ever want to be a pirate, m’ boy?” I asked him.

“I often… used to play pretend,” replied the child, reluctantly.

“Well, then you know that sometimes pirates do some very nasty things,” I questioned, a look of concern in my eyes. When the boy had no response and dropped his gaze to the ground, I lifted his chin so he could look straight into my stone-cold eyes.

“Your mother has done some terrible, terrible things, boy. What is your name?”

“Edmund,” he said as the tears spilled down his pale cheeks.

“Edmund! What a fantastic name. I see it now - Edmund Silvertooth. That could be your name if you joined us.”

“Really? The boy’s eyes lit up with delight. The prospect of surviving lit a flame inside of him. “Aye, Silvertooth. There is just one thing I’d need you to do for me. As a sort of, initiation.” My eyes rose to the woman still standing tied up, staring down at the scene. Her contempt towards me had not wavered. Her eyes were set to kill.

She knew the truth, she knew his fate, but she did not warn her son. Perhaps the woman was weary of fighting, or perhaps she did not truly love the boy. I was forced again to look back at him, torn from his mother. He nodded meekly, having no other choice.

“Let him go,” I spoke and the two men stepped back.

I handed the boy my sword and he had no trouble wielding it. Perhaps he was not such a frail coward after all. A shock came to me as I realized the sword he held was the very one I’d been examining back in the museum just moments ago.

My body stood back, as all eyes aboard The Dresden focused on the boy.

He stood directly in front of his mother and there were no more tears in his eyes.

In one swing, he brought the blade upon his mother’s bosom, tearing it down to her abdomen in a single, straight slash.

I felt a sense of awe rising up inside of me - perhaps Dagger had been as horrible as the stories told. I wanted to repel the sickly the sensation but yet again, my lips betrayed me.

“Rip out her bowels boy! Now, before she bleeds out!”

The boy heeded the sadistic pirate’s wishes. With his bare hands, he reached inside of his mother and pulled out the end of her small intestine.

The woman screamed, “PLEASE EDMUND, STOP! PLEASE!”

But the boy did not drop the sword.

The woman was still alive - her insides curled up into a bundle in front of her.

“Now dance woman, dance! Spin!” I commanded.

The woman spun in circles though she could hardly stand on her own two feet, humiliating herself. After nearly a minute of the harrowing dance, she tripped over her own entrails, falling into a bloody puddle. She did not rise.

Once the laughter died down, my voice boomed over the crowd.

“A wonderful evening show, m’ boy! Your duties for the night are to clean the blood off my sword and return it to me. Stoneheart, dump this corpse overboard. Boy, once you have cleaned my sword, return here to swab the deck of your mother’s blood. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning. ”

I didn’t look at the boy. My feet carried me straight to my quarters where I laid down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I closed my eyes and felt yet another jolt.

* * *

I heard a clanging sound and stared down at my aged, trembling hands. At my feet was the hilt of Dagger’s infamous sword and I could see myself in the shiny reflective surface. My balding head and my horrified face gave me a brief second of relief – I was back in my own body. I could smell perspiration and realized that I was panting as if I were out of breath, running from some invisible foe. I glanced quickly around the room and felt comforted by the storage boxes and catalogues surrounding me. The familiar scent of my dusty museum office confirmed that I was back in present day.

I took a step forward and my foot nudged the weapon. Startled, I jumped back. That’s when I noticed the fresh blood on the blade.

“This isn’t possible – I just finished polishing this… There’s no such thing as – ”

I looked around but there was no one in the room with me. I tried to wipe the blood away with my shirt, but the sword could not be cleaned. Consumed by guilt, confusion, fright and sorrow, I lifted the sword above my head and whispered, “Forgive me, Father. I did not mean to kill that girl - and I did not mean to take things that do not belong to me. Greed is the most haunting of all sins.”

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling, expecting an explanation from God, I dropped my hands and delicately placed the sword inside one of the ghostly white storage containers with the rest of The Dresden artifacts.

I packed up my car with the boxes and drove for nearly three hours in silent contemplation to the excavation site where my groundbreaking work first began.

One by one, I threw every artifact back into the water, reuniting it with the Earth.

I saved the sword of Argus Dagger for last.

With all of my might, I thrust the magnificent sword into the murky blue ocean, grunting with effort. Just as the blade was about to hit the water, a small white hand – about the size and shape of a young boy’s hand - burst out of the deep, snatching the sword and disappearing into the water forever. Then, the screams of a dying mother echoed across the water, to be heard for the last time in history.

Compelled, I took a deep breath and began to walk forward slowly, one foot in front of the other. The salty water was cold but welcoming. When I finally floated my way to the spot of the shipwreck, I could no longer feel my soul. With one final breath, I sank down to that eternal resting place, never to be plagued by human emotions or inspired by man’s quest to succeed again.