This is the tale of the Mystic Ripper, a pirate ship. And
several individuals who would have benefited greatly from making better
decisions. The Mystic Ripper was captained by the notorious Captain Ratcliff. A
one-eyed rat with a reputation for greed, occasional bad manners, and piracy. His
closest companion was a giant iguana named Molten. When convenient, Molten
carried the captain around on his back. When inconvenient, Molten still carried
him around because Captain Ratcliff never asked permission. The rest of the
crew consisted of the squirrel twins Vex and Jinx. Spike the hedgehog. Moros
the ferret. And the mouse brothers Ray Jay and Jay Ray. Nobody could remember
which mouse was which. Including the mice.
After years at sea, they had accumulated quite a fortune. Gold.
Silver. Jewels. Rare artifacts. Questionably designed furniture. The usual
pirate collection. One evening the crew gathered below deck dividing the spoils
from their latest conquest. Arguments filled the air.
"That ruby is mine."
"No, I found it."
"You found it after I stole it."
"Exactly."
Suddenly—
BUMP.
Something struck the hull. Every pirate leapt to their feet.
Swords appeared. Daggers came out. One chair was produced for reasons we are
not going to discuss. The crew charged expecting attackers. Instead, they found
a tiny life raft drifting beside the ship. Empty. No passengers. No supplies. No
note. Except a small accordion. The pirates stared. The accordion stared back. Well,
it would have if accordions had eyes. Which they absolutely should not. "That's
disappointing," said Spike. "It's worth almost nothing," agreed
Ratcliff. The accordion was tossed onto a pile of junk intended for future
sale. Everyone forgot about it. Or thought they did.
Three nights later the sea was calm. The moon hung full
above the water. And somewhere aboard the ship... An accordion played. Soft. Distant.
Lonely. The crew looked around confused. Then Jinx pointed, "Ship!" A
vessel appeared on the horizon. Immediately the accordion was forgotten. The
pirates raised sails. The Mystic Ripper surged forward. The chase began. And
somehow... They never gained any distance. Not even a little. The ship remained
exactly as far away as when they started. Hours passed. The mysterious vessel
vanished into the night. The pirates gave up the chase disappointed and
returned to their business.
Several days later it happened again. The accordion, the
ship, the chase, failure. Then again; accordion, ship, chase, failure, And again;
accordion, ship, chase, failure. Weeks passed. Food supplies dwindled. Fresh
water ran low. Tempers worsened. Even Molten seemed annoyed. But every time it
was the same, accordion, ship, chase, failure.
Then one evening Captain Ratcliff climbed onto the
quarterdeck carrying his star charts. The sky glittered overhead. The captain
frowned. Then frowned harder. Then turned the chart upside down. Then sideways.
Then upside down again. Ratcliff slammed the map down, "This is
impossible." The crew gathered around. Moros asked, "What is?" Ratcliff
pointed upward, "Those aren't the right stars." The pirates looked. The
stars looked back. Well, not literally. That would have been terrifying.
Ratcliff demanded, "The constellations don't match." The crew fell
silent. Ratcliff was many things. Greedy. Dishonest. Stubborn. But he was an
excellent navigator. If he said the stars were wrong... The stars were wrong.
Then
the accordion played again. The crew froze. This time nobody forgot. The eerie
melody drifted across the deck. And on the horizon... Land appeared.
At sunrise they reached shore. A village stood there. Houses.
Shops. Gardens. Wells. Everything ready for its day. Everything, except people.
The entire settlement was deserted. No bodies. No signs of violence. No
explanation. Just emptiness. The pirates searched every building. Nothing. No
villagers. No clues. No answers. Only silence.
Finally, Ratcliff made a practical observation, "Gold
is heavy." Everyone agreed. The pirates needed somewhere secure to store
their treasure while they explored.
Eventually they discovered a library. Floor-to-ceiling
shelves packed with books. Thousands of books. The pirates disliked this
immediately. Books were suspicious. Still. A hiding place was a hiding place. They
removed books from the lowest shelves. Lifted several of the bottom shelf boards.
And discovered a narrow gap beneath. One chest after another disappeared
inside. Gold. Silver. Jewels. Everything. The boards were replaced. The books
carefully returned. Soon there was no sign anything had been disturbed. The
treasure had vanished. Perfectly hidden.
The pirates left the library. Then they left the village. Then
they wandered into the countryside searching for answers. Searching for people.
Searching for ... anything. And they were never seen again. Not Captain
Ratcliff, Molten, Vex, Jinx, Spike, Moros, Ray Jay, nor Jay Ray. No trace was
ever found.
As for the accordion? That disappeared too. Now, if you ever
discover an abandoned library in an abandoned village under unfamiliar stars...
And if you happen to hear an accordion playing nearby... I strongly advise you
to leave. Not because of ghosts. Not because of pirates. Not because of haunted
music.
But because somewhere beneath those shelves is probably an
enormous amount of treasure. And treasure, my friend, causes more trouble than
ghosts ever managed. At least according to every pirate story I've ever heard. Which
is quite a lot. And unlike accordions... Pirate stories definitely have ayes.
There was once a crooked goat
With twisted hair and crooked teeth
With crooked horns and
He even had crooked hooves to use for hands and feet
As he walked his crooked way he spied a lady he wished
desperately to meet
She noticed his gaze and blushed a shade then dropped a
handkerchief in the street
His heart burst forth in its drumming beat
As he made a crooked dash the most handsome stud in the land
Snatched that hanky from just under his hand
That stud strutted to our lady fair
He smiled sweetly and complimented her hair
Her wrath was hot as her scold filled the air
“I did not drop this for you!” she said seizing it free
She sashayed to our guy and said right away
“With you, I think, is where I should stay.”
And she did day after day,
She loved him as he loved her,
Never wavering in any way
Here we meet a wide-eyed and wily little witch. And as all good stories are about the oddballs and
outcast,
our wondrous witch did not care for collecting warts,
or how mossy and yellow her teeth and nails could get.
Not even how perfectly pointy her hat should be. Our weird little witch watched birds fly in patterns
across the sky.
And waited with stilled breath, while moonlight shimmered in
ripples of a tossed stone.
She once collected snails with interesting shells, only to
have the bigger witches snatch them and cast them into potions for their
spells.
But today my friend, this wonderful little witch wonders
wider than ever.
Her bashed and battered hat pointing her ever onward.
Following toads to twisted and towering trees. Never once a
thought of where her trail might lead.
Until a duckling troupe waddled through a thicket.
It was dense and sharp and deep, but short and soft – if out
of reaching distance you keep.
As she peered over, she saw a wide clearing of the wood,
where only a great weeping willow stood.
As she watched the dancing of the limbs.
A song emerged that she could not hear. For there were no
new vibrations drumming on her ear,
yet there it was so very crystal clear.
No voices sang words of love or loss, no instruments strummed
along. And yet, she felt every bit of it in every single bone.
Now her wondrous mind must know. How, what, why, was this a
joke or a show?
She moved along the bramble, round and round she went. But
it gave no yield, not even a little dent.
Her mind started moving faster and then so did her moving
beat. Faster and farther until the toe of her shoe caught something. And her
face replaced her feet.
Laying sprawled and wheezing, she turned to see what caused the
crash. But there was nothing there. No stick, or root, or squirrel saboteur.
Just earthen grass.
As she sat up rubbing her chin. The grass’s battle forth toward
sunshine made her face gain a grin.
And again, the crystal vibrations that rode no wind called
her heart its newfound friend.
This was maddening. This had become a must.
She would pass this thicket, even if only by guts and
thrust.
As she readied herself for the thorns’ heavy fight. The song
sang happy in the light.
Our determined little witch marched her paces; she turned
and took her runner’s stance.
Her legs fired off the fastest she had ever ran.
Just as she reached the brambles’ line and jumped hard with
no wish for gravity’s mercy.
She would face the thorns, the pain, but it never came.
Instead, what brushed her face and hands were short sweet
meadow flowers and bees buzzing via their little fans.
She stood straight and looked around, the thicket’s thorns
just at her back.
This was a wonderful glade of flowers, and bugs, and beauty of
all sizes.
And with one task done, the next was easily decided.
She approached the great willow skirt. The silent song
radiating from within or maybe just the dirt.
As she parted the hanging branches, joy spiked all around.
The willow’s sanctuary was cool and calm, and as it sang it
seemed also waiting for her question to be found.
The thoughts ran wildly through her mind all too fast to
catch. It was her stomach rumbling that gave the tree its wish.
And in response it offered up a dish.
An oaken plate of tasty mushrooms and juicy sweet berries
appeared. And our little witch delighted at such a pleasure.
As she munched, she hummed along. Keeping cadence to her
nonexisting song.
And with her savage belly tame.
She looked to the streams of sunlight beaming in the narrow
leaves,
“Might there be some cold water that I could drink?”
As soon as the words were spoken the wise old willow swayed
and a babbling brook could be heard not very far away.
With the first tinkle of water the crystal song did say,
“You have given me a great gift of wonder and passion.
You would brave a thousand thorny cuts just to sit with me
today.
This is a special place of peace. But you can only linger
here, then you must move on.
The world outside is cold, cruel and uncaring. It is also
wonderful and joyous in every kind of way.
The days of time are mysterious and the stars speak only
truth. For they are both just the same as you.
Always keep the curiosity, never lose in that fight.
Let discovery and even disappointment be your guiding
light.”
With that the draping limbs parted, the thicket now was gone,
the refreshing brook alone beckoning her along.
From that day forth her stride had a happy tune,
And with the other witches’ leer,
“Isn’t it so odd, that she walks that way.”
Is what her ears would hear.
She just smiles so sweetly in pursuit of the adventure of
the day.
With only the trees, the rocks and the stream dancing the
same sway.
