Writing Weekends :)

1814 The Caribbean

The wind felt different that day. Her candle flickered in the velvet night. The shadows had begun dancing and twisting around her resting body. Images ran through her mind. Treasure. Skull. Island. Love. Betrayal. Vivid as the sun yet dull as smoke.

“Wake up miss! We’re almost there, your father wants you ready to board”

The violet of dawn pastillised over the horizon as the golden globe rose over the glittering surface. That’s when she saw it. Her new home of the New World. A mansion, much like the ones in her home back at London, only made of wood the colour of black ink. Surround by lush leaves of paradise palm trees. Smoke was already rising from the chimney upon her arrival. Things were going to change.

 

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