SimonW
Active member
Note: This is a sequel to The Legend Of Johnathan Retched Smith.
Chapter 1: Upon A Beach...
The sea waves rippled with tensed ease, lightly crashing against the sandy beach of an island a good distance from the Island of Bunga.
A lone figure was sprawled halfway in the water and the shore. Beneath the figure was a piece of driftwood, once a part of a small rowboat that was ultimately destroyed by a blast as shown by the faint remnants of scorch marks upon the piece of debris.
The figure was not awake, half cradling the driftwood as it acted as an anchor as the tide of water eased off from the beach. Half bobbing in water, the figure was of a thirteen year old boy, knocked unconscious from the blast that had also destroyed the rowboat.
His tanned face beheld a touch of innocence but his attire and body told his story oh so well. Half naked from the waist up, the boy had on only tattered and wet from the ocean shorts that were held up by a coarse but tight rope. His only other clothing was that of a red bandana headband tied around his forehead, his wet brown hair glistening in the sun overhead.
His tanned body was covered in faint marks of scars and cuts, a few bruises near his shoulders and deep yet faint impressions of whip marks across his back that were so faint they almost seemed to fade with his tanned skin.
A crab scuttled past the prone figure that laid upon the beach. It was not interested in what was apparently fodder from the sea.
After a few minutes, the figure of Johnathan “Retched” Smith stirred. A twitch was in his left forefinger as he slowly started to regain consciousness.
Fluttering his eyelids open a fraction of a second, Johnathan arched his back to rise up. But the pain in his shoulders made him wince and his arms buckled under him as he fell down face first into the water that had come with the tide.
Sputtering, Johnathan was wide awake now. He began clambering with outstretched hands as he found the piece of timber he had floated to this island with and used it to support himself once more onto firm ground.
Lifting his head abruptly from the salt-tasting sea water, Johnathan breathed in a lungful of air as he tried to ignore the pain in his shoulders. He knew he had felt worse pain then this in his life as a Cabin Boy upon a pirate vessel.
Johnathan wondered if any of the others also survived the blast that had been caused by the girl known as Hatti Tanaki.
Johnathan “Retched” Smith loathed that native friendly girl now with a passion. He vowed silently to himself that once he was able, he would find her and kill her.
It was very unlikely that Johnathan’s adopted father, Captain Lock-Jaw, and his crew survived. Johnathan just could not accept it. His stubborn hope that the fearsome crew of pirates were still alive was a false one that he knew he’d have to accept sooner or later. But Johnathan hoped it would be later. After all, he had already once assumed the worst and that changed when he knew it was not so.
Shaking his head lightly, Johnathan knew he had to think straight. Alive or dead, he knew he was alone once more.
But that was not true. For as Johnathan had started to slip back into the depths of unconsciousness, a tall figure seemed to huddle over him before blackness once more consumed his already racing mind.
(to be continued...)
Chapter 1: Upon A Beach...
The sea waves rippled with tensed ease, lightly crashing against the sandy beach of an island a good distance from the Island of Bunga.
A lone figure was sprawled halfway in the water and the shore. Beneath the figure was a piece of driftwood, once a part of a small rowboat that was ultimately destroyed by a blast as shown by the faint remnants of scorch marks upon the piece of debris.
The figure was not awake, half cradling the driftwood as it acted as an anchor as the tide of water eased off from the beach. Half bobbing in water, the figure was of a thirteen year old boy, knocked unconscious from the blast that had also destroyed the rowboat.
His tanned face beheld a touch of innocence but his attire and body told his story oh so well. Half naked from the waist up, the boy had on only tattered and wet from the ocean shorts that were held up by a coarse but tight rope. His only other clothing was that of a red bandana headband tied around his forehead, his wet brown hair glistening in the sun overhead.
His tanned body was covered in faint marks of scars and cuts, a few bruises near his shoulders and deep yet faint impressions of whip marks across his back that were so faint they almost seemed to fade with his tanned skin.
A crab scuttled past the prone figure that laid upon the beach. It was not interested in what was apparently fodder from the sea.
After a few minutes, the figure of Johnathan “Retched” Smith stirred. A twitch was in his left forefinger as he slowly started to regain consciousness.
Fluttering his eyelids open a fraction of a second, Johnathan arched his back to rise up. But the pain in his shoulders made him wince and his arms buckled under him as he fell down face first into the water that had come with the tide.
Sputtering, Johnathan was wide awake now. He began clambering with outstretched hands as he found the piece of timber he had floated to this island with and used it to support himself once more onto firm ground.
Lifting his head abruptly from the salt-tasting sea water, Johnathan breathed in a lungful of air as he tried to ignore the pain in his shoulders. He knew he had felt worse pain then this in his life as a Cabin Boy upon a pirate vessel.
Johnathan wondered if any of the others also survived the blast that had been caused by the girl known as Hatti Tanaki.
Johnathan “Retched” Smith loathed that native friendly girl now with a passion. He vowed silently to himself that once he was able, he would find her and kill her.
It was very unlikely that Johnathan’s adopted father, Captain Lock-Jaw, and his crew survived. Johnathan just could not accept it. His stubborn hope that the fearsome crew of pirates were still alive was a false one that he knew he’d have to accept sooner or later. But Johnathan hoped it would be later. After all, he had already once assumed the worst and that changed when he knew it was not so.
Shaking his head lightly, Johnathan knew he had to think straight. Alive or dead, he knew he was alone once more.
But that was not true. For as Johnathan had started to slip back into the depths of unconsciousness, a tall figure seemed to huddle over him before blackness once more consumed his already racing mind.
(to be continued...)
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