Wednesday Prompt: Yargh! Pirate Zombies

Authors note: a bit late again, but at least I got this one written before getting the next prompt. I am a few words over again for this story. I could have edited it down a few words to get within count, but I am doing this for fun. and editing is no fun. As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every Friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

Word Prompt: Yargh! Pirate Zombies.

Word Limit: 600

“Row harder men, we need to get over these waves.” The first mate yells at us. We are all so tired but we keep rowing hard towards the shore of the small uninhabited island we happened across. Our muscles bulging as we pull our oars, taking us every further away from the blazing ship we have abandoned.

The longboats nose drags in the sand, I jump out and help pull her up further on shore. In the distance the burning mast finally snaps and smashes through the weakened decking. The fire rising into the sky creates what looks like a second sunset.

How did we get here I hear you ask? You will never believe me, but for the thousandth time I will tell the story anyway.

It was a normal breezy summers day, I was a manning the crows nest when I saw it on the horizon. A small ship, making great speed in our direction. I called out to let the captain know and he climbed up into the nest with me to see if he could see anything else.

It wasn't long before we saw the flag through our spyglass. The flag was black with white on it. We couldn't make out the imagery on the flag, but the colours could only mean one thing. Pirates.

The ship was making good ground against us, but there was still a lot of time to prepare. To their credit the men did prepare for the pirates as well as could be expected on a merchant vessel with no cannons on her. The men with personal flintlocks made sure their pistols were ready, and there was enough swords aboard the vessel for every man to have a cutlass in hand when they arrived.

When they did arrive it was quiet, with nary a shot fired towards us. The sun had set, but the moon was full and allowed us enough light to fight by. The schooner maneuvered well into position beside us. Then they came.

The first one swung across trailing rope behind him, someone fired their flintlock to no avail. There was a man on board, he dropped what he was holding and drew his cutlass. The hooks he had been holding onto slid across the deck and dug themselves into the planks. The ropes attached to them pulled taut and across shimmied the pirates. 

An ungodly roar sounded from behind me as the captain opened fire with his blunderbuss, it took a man in the chest just as he climbed aboard and he fell overboard. The crew clashed fiercely with the pirates.

One came up upon me, he was clearly dazed in the confusion of battle and I neatly stepped forward and speared him in the gut with my cutlass. It sunk through to the hilt. I was now right beside the man, I could smell his breath, it was horrifying, the smell of death and decay. 

He batted me aside and I fell to the ground. I watched as he pulled the sword from his gut, it made a squelching popping noise as it came free. He frowned at it, then tossed it aside. I couldn't tear my gaze from him, I watched as he proceeded to take a bite out of the captain.

I will admit, I don't know much about what happened next. I am ashamed to admit it, but I ran and hid until they were gone. There was a lot of shouting, it was sunrise by the time they left. I saw the flag whipping around as they cast off with most of our cargo and half the crew as food. The white devil piecing a red heart, the jolly roger of Blackbeard and his zombie crew.

Three days later we cast the ship free of anchor, doused in pitch and set alight. The wounded crew had all since passed away and begun to turn into zombies themselves. We tried to kill them all one at a time, but another crew member was bitten in the process. We just threw all the bodies in the hold, lit the ship on fire, and rowed to a nearby island.

Word count: 694 words.

Wednesday Prompt: Blue door, Red door.

Authors Note: As always, I am late as heck with this. I wrote it on my lunch break at work and never got around to transcribing it to post. As always check out The Short Story Press for Sasha's prompt. We give them to each other every friday and post on Wednesdays. At least Sasha posts Wednesdays, I post when I post.

This week Sasha gave me a much longer in depth prompt as apparently that is what I do to her a lot. The full prompt is "You are in a room, it is dark with only one light in the centre. To the left is a blue door, to the right a red door. What happens next?" I've shortened it in the title for ease of reading.

One final note, we try to keep our stories within 10% of the word limit, this one blew out to almost double that. I really like the story the way it is, and I didn't want to have to go back and edit something I barely remember writing. So I have left it as it is. Sue me.

Word Prompt: Blue door, Red door.

Word Limit: 700

I look behind me but the door I entered through has vanished. There is only the blue door, the red door and the dim bulb hanging from the ceiling swaying silently even though there is no breeze, making my shadow dance behind me.

I put my hand on the red door knob, it is cool to the touch and a shiver runs down my spine. I slowly open the door, there is a white room, it Is large I cannot see the walls or floor, it is all just a blinding white. A little way ahead of me is a chair. There is someone sitting in it, the chair is facing away from me. “Hello?” I say “Can you help me? I don't now where I am.”

I hear a loud HONK! As the chair slowly spins around. First I see the fluffy red hair. The shiver down my back intensifies, it is as if a bucket of ice water has been thrown on my back.

HONK HONK goes the clown, I can see him fully now, his baggy yellow clothes, his comically over sized red shoes, his face painted white with a laughing smile painted on.  His real mouth cracks open into a grin, upon close inspection it is clear that his teeth are razor sharp and filed into points.

He is starting to stand up now, “It's alright, I think I picked the wrong door.” I hastily say as I close the red door. My last glimpse of the clown showed me a look of malice and rage glistening in his eyes. I don’t know where I am, but I am certainly not dealing with that guy.

“Blue door, definitely blue door.” I mumble to no-one in particular as I move across the room to the other door. Taking a deep breath I grasp the handle, I can't help noticing it is cold as well. I push the door open, on the other side is a hallway. I can only see about ten meters ahead of me before the corridor turns ninety degrees left. With a look over my shoulder at the red door I push through into the corridor. When the door closes behind me it promptly vanishes. I cant find a handle, or a latch, or anything to suggest that up until a moment ago this was a door. I decide to continue on around the left hand turn, another ten meters a right hand turn. A further ten meters ahead is a plain looking wooden door.

I open it and gulp at what I see. A small room with a dangling bulb swinging back and forth, lighting up the blue and red doors.

How is this possible, the corridor didn't loop around. It must be a different room, I hope it is a different room. I check the blue door, it opens with a creak, hallway, looks the same as the last one. I gulp together all my strength and put my hand on the red door, I am shaking uncontrollably now. No matter how much I tell myself it can't be the same door, but deep down, in a part of the soul long since forgotten about, I know that it is.

But I need to be sure, logic tells me this is a different door, I pray that it is. I slowly open the door, and it is different. Different, but not better. Oh god it isn't better.

The noose is tight around his neck as he slowly swings back and forth. His clown make-up smudged where the ropes have rubbed, his red over sized shoes hanging floppily below him. I take it all in, this clown dangling from the ceiling by the neck, his baggy clothes hiding the majority of his form. Then I notice it, his eyes. They are staring at me. He isn't dead, he can't move, and is stuck there. But he is not dead.

Movement in the distance catches my eye. Dear lord it is another one, he looks like he is about two hundred meters away, but he is walking right towards me and the hanging clown. As my eyes focus on the distant whiteness I see another, and then another. There are at least seven that I can see. I close the door and decide to keep walking the blue door.

It has been twenty times now that I have ignored the red door and followed the corridors behind the blue door, every time they are different, they turn in different directions. Every time though they come back to this room. I have checked the red door a few more times, but I cannot bring myself to recount what I saw. Honestly I try not to think about it myself.

I'm starting to get really thirsty, I am not sure I can continue much longer. When I enter the next room, under the swinging bulb something has changed. There is a bottle of water sitting on the floor directly in the middle of the room.

I will never escape this place. The room provides everything I need, food when hungry, water when thirsty, a bed when tired. 

I will die here.

Word count: 865 words.