of the ship exploded with red and white light, breaking, tearing upward from the aft.
Splinters of burning wood rained down from above me as the deck below me vanished; I became nothing in that second, and felt my soul began to sink into the great abyss of the Atlantic.
“Save me oh lord,” I could hear a few of the surviving men as their bodies splashed around me like cannon balls, their last sounds the gasping of breath, as they sunk down to the bottom.
This is death, I thought, but I do not want to go. I remember thinking. Sinking down to the ocean floor, I could feel my thoughts slipping, lungs filling with the sting of salted water as it took me, I drowned… I died. I became death; I became a slave to the darkness. I became a victim to my own pride, a pirate to my own ungodly misdeeds…My thoughts of you never relenting…
October 29, 1718
First entry of Alexander Drake, Commander, HMS Freedom…
I write this now just to stay sane. just to know that I still have blood pulsing through me, at least for the moment. I write to stay alive, write in the hopes that someone someday will come across these few weather torn scraps of parchment, and know, with some certainty the origins of our curse, what we did that night, that day to become that which we all became.
It was October 29, the seventieth hundred eight-teen year of our lord, Captain Carlyle and the rest of our crew had captured the HMS Freedom, a first rate, triple- decked man of war. We had been running from the British Navy for more than a week before they found us successively near the Islands of Bermuda. Running as fast as all sails would allow we came upon a large green flash in the darkened sky only to notice the seas ahead of us growing rough and obscenely eerie with a thick darkened fog just ahead.
“Sail into the darkness,” Captain Carlyle commanded loudly, his hard deepening voice echoing down the chain of command. Running into the rough sea, the waves were crashing against the bow and stern, the high groan of the English oak hollering all around us as we disappearing into the black darkness, quickly losing our pursuers in what could only be described as “a hellish mist of the seas.”
It seemed we tossed and turned for hours, the ship stressing to its maximum, sails and rigging tearing away, never to be seen again, as the sea around us grew dark as night.
Yet then in the distance we could see it, land, mountains sprawled out across the heavens in an ominous emerald glow as the seas quickly became softer. In his haste, Captain Carlyle called for the boats to be tossed ashore, for what reason I know not, even up until the day I knew was to be my last.
“It’s just as I dreamed,” Captain smiled as he walked up to me. “You have the ship sir,” he said to me, quickly entering one of the boats before both made their way to the sandy shoreline, where I waited for his quick return, a return that would change our lives, our very souls forever…
December 27, 1723
Midshipmen Jacob Todd aboard the HMS Legend
I was there the night she first tussled with Captain Marcus, there to see his great first-rate ship, the renowned, the glorious Legend, bested by such a beastly man-of- war. There to witness with thine own eyes, the fear and the power for which the Death Maiden cast its ghastly shadow upon us as it emerged from the thickness of the green glowing black fog like a skeleton of death upon the seas, its bow breaking out of the mist like a mystical dragon. Eyes glaring, glowing red, fire roaring from its open mouth, the entire ship covered with the broken, beaten remains of its previous victims, stretched out across the yardarms for all future victims to see.
There was no warning, no cautioning of her approach upon us, as our men made marry across the deck, drinking Nelson’s Folly from their black jacks, celebrating the birth of our savior, unaware of the horrors. The hell for which would soon crackle across our bow, through the belly of The Legend; destruction and simple torment of blood torn flesh and bone, which followed alongside our port in the seconds to follow.
I, a midshipman at the time, taking watch across the bridge, witnessed the merriment below turned a thunder as I saw the blood soaked Jolly Roger slice out through the fog on our port.
Before I could make sound, before my lugs could catch breath, I heard the thunderous roar of the cannons; chain shot sounding across the center mast, splinters of English Oak lashing across the rigging, taking down several men in a single blast.
“Pi… pirates,” I yelled as loud as my throat, my lungs would allow, only to quickly inhale, taking in the stench of death and powder as I gazed across our port side to see the name of the attacking ship, knowing full well its implications.
“Captain,” I cried out, looking to the wheel only to watch in shock as the his own legs buckling under his own weight, the cannon tearing across his midsection, ripping him to pieces in an instant. I can remember to this day the shock in his eyes as he looked at me for the brief second. I could fell the terror, the pain in his eyes.
I could feel the coward inside me coming through as the Maiden of death wrapped her talons around both our hearts, taking the life of the Captain, and forcing me to forever live life the in the shell of the man I once was.
The life of a man I shall never know again.
December 25 1723
The home of Elizabeth Carlyle and her daughter Catlin
“Mum… Mum come quick!” Elizabeth heard her daughter crying as she quickly made her way towards her bedroom.
“What is it baby…,” she asked lighting the lantern near her bedside, gazing into her shimmering green eyes as she clutched one of her dolls firmly in her hands.
“I… I saw him again mum,” Catlin paused, hearing the slight sighed inhaled of her mother before continuing. “I know it was him, I know it was Daddy.” She confessed.
“Baby,” Elizabeth sighed deeply, running her fingers softly through the long locks of her daughters blondish brown hair. “You never met him, he died at sea a few months before you were born,” Elizabeth said quietly, her mind flickering back to the last time she saw him, the last time she felt his lips pressing against hers, felt the warmth of his body.
“No mum I know what I saw, it was Daddy,” Catlin hissed. “He was falling through the water, and his last thoughts before closing his eyes were of you…,” she said.
“Awe baby,” Elizabeth sighed, holding her closer.
“And there was… there was another,” Catlin said, pausing for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling.
“Another… Another what darling?” Elizabeth asked; looking up to the same place her daughter was gazing.
“Another man… a boy maybe…,” Catlin hissed.
“Another man? Elizabeth asked.
“Chris… Chris Johnson.” Catlin said softly.
End Book 1
ABOUT THE AUTHOR(S) CHRISTOPHER CLARENCE JOHNSON
Living his life through the words of famed singer Bob Marley, sixteen-year- old, Chris Johnson has already experienced the hardships of life.
From losing a dear friend to suicide, and a cousin murdered by his abusive live in girl-friend, as well as other personal issues most kids his age should never have to face, Chris continues to strive on, living each day the best way he can.
Growing up, Chris enjoyed reading about the strange and unusual, Marine biology and skateboarding whenever the weather in Michigan permits. He also enjoys hanging out and watching scary movies with his best friend whenever possible.
Though still a teenager, Chris has several goals in life. His first book "Curse of the Death Maiden," being the beginning of what he hopes to be a wonderful and life long experience in writing.
Chris lives with his Grandmother, Mother and Step Brother and their two dogs and various sea-going animals. In July of this year (2014) Chris will be taking a hiatus from his writing, and putting forth all his attention at a military school for 22 weeks, it is here that Chris hopes his life will lead to future happiness and success, with dreams of becoming a great military leader.
Troy Veenstra:
Troy Veenstra grew up in the city of Wyoming Mi
chigan. He was born the eldest of two brothers and two sisters. In 1998 after the death of his father: who he quit school to take care of, he went to live with his maternal grandparents, living with them until they passed away one after the other in 1999.
In 2000, his mentor, John Collins, owner of Weird Review Magazine, felt that Troy had much more potential than he realized, assisted him in getting back to school, where he obtained his High School degree six months later. Throughout 2001-2003 Troy attended Grand Rapids Community College majoring in English & Criminology studies. Later in 2004, he transferred to Davenport University studying in the area of Law, making the Dean’s List in both summer and winter semesters for 2004, 2005, and 2006. Troy also received several competitive scholarship awards from various foundations, twice obtaining an award from the Grand Rapids Foundation.
In late 2004, he became a member of the Kent County CASA program (Court Appointed Special Advocate for Abused and Neglected Children) and served as a child advocate until health issues prevented him from doing so in late 2008.
Currently Troy has six novels accredited to his name as well as over 150 other titles in two pen names, ranging in genres such as True Crime, Legal Reference, Drama, Historical Fiction, Legal Fiction, Christian Fiction, satire, comedy, Children Fiction and women's romance/lit.
Troy has won 2nd place in the 2013 Best Author Award from Fiction4all.com Troy’s Links:
www.veenstrapublishing.biz
troy@veenstrapublishing
[email protected] https://www.independentauthornetwork.com/troy- veenstra.html
https://www.linkedin.com/pub/troy- veenstra/36/910/470
https://www.authorsden.c om/visit/author.asp?authorid=179079
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4205489.Tr oy_Veenstra?from_search=true
https://www.xinxii.com/a docs.php/en?aid=42296
https://www.facebook.co m/Authortroyveenstra?ref=hl
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends