The Never Tales: Volume Two publishes September 26th. Enjoy this snippet from one of my (Anne J. Hill) short stories in this collection.
The ship rocks like a gentle lullaby. My soul is grounded on the deck—sustained by constant movement, uncertainty, and adventure. The rum in my belly makes my eyes dance and my feet see. Five years sailing. Five years with Captain Hook. Five years a drunken first mate.
Hook had threatened to leave me at the next shore we find ’cause I punched his sober shifty face a few weeks back—my sister’s life was good reason. But I’ll be damned if I’m to be stranded on steady ground. I’m as useless on shore as I am useful on a ship. Each step on land is like throwing a baby into a lagoon and hoping it swims. Bad for the body and trauma for the spirit. A man belongs at sea with rum in hand. At least, men like me. Men who need the sea like they need air. I've dreamed of becoming captain ever since we hit the Never Sea years ago. The pirate who calls himself captain now drinks tea instead of rum—there’s no trusting a man like that.
I’ve spent the past five years building a rapport with the captain. I’m eager to please and a fool otherwise. Hook revels at having a first mate who never questions him. Who can’t think for himself. There’s no fear of betrayal when dealing with a witless dog.
But I’m no dog. Not me. Not Smee.