Thursday, February 27, 2014
Short Story - Post 1
The part of me that has extreme attention problems has taken over at times. This has allowed me to work on a short story that I will be releasing in the next month. I do not have an exact date, but it will be soon. I wanted to write something within the world that I am creating, while keeping the story plot separate from everything else. Any feedback that I get on this writing will help me learn and grow as a writer. Please feel free to point out any flaws and my love obsession with the comma. Here is a preview of the beginning: “The true measure of a man is not counted by the number of battles won or riches gathered. It is measured by the line of women waiting when his ship docks.” - Captain Warwick of the Anne-Marie The boat swayed gently back and forth against the dock as waves brushed against the hull. After a long night of drinking in the small harbor town, the crew of the Anne-Marie moved slowly across the deck. Smitty, the first mate, barked orders from the upper deck while the crew struggled to keep up with loading the cargo. The cool breeze did nothing to suppress the heat from the summer sun. “Boy! I told you to move that crate to the other side!” Smitty yelled. He was a portly man with beady eyes. Not the brightest of men, but tough. Erik let out a deep sigh as he picked up the heavy crate and carried it to the other side of the deck. He had joined the crew three years ago to find a better life. Loading and unloading crates was not what he had in mind. It took a five year commitment to join the Anne-Marie and Erik had no plan of staying one day longer than he had to. “Boy!” Smitty had a way of getting under his skin, calling him a boy when he was clearly a man. “Hey, boy! Report to Captain Warwick!” Without looking up at the first mate, Erik made his way across the main deck to the small hallway leading to the captain’s door. He stopped for a moment to take a breath and attempt to straighten his clothes. The ocean salt prevented any such act from being successful, keeping his clothes stiff. He kneaded his calloused hands together nervously before lightly knocking on the door. Being summoned by Captain Warwick was never a good sign.