Richard Fierce

scars that appeared to have been made by swords.

drawing my focus back to the water.

I was continuously wiping it away

I stood on the deck of The Filthy Jewel and stared at the unending black water.

A strong wind was blowing in our favor, filling the brown sails and ruffling my hair.

in a warm, golden glow. I stood atop a windswept cliff and watch

The sun crested over the horizon,

warm, golden glow.

Squinting against the sun, I stared into the distance

Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be cause for concern,

The wind picked up, tussling my hair and pulling at my cloak