> Captain's Logs - Writing Thread

[The Pirate Dragon]

Captain's Logs - Writing Thread

Hey! I'm The Pirate Dragon. Sometimes I write things.

((Will format later for more interested stuffs))

[The Pirate Dragon]

Archive
Each story post is in the archive. If a story is written on two or more posts, it will have multiple links to each part.
An asterisk (*) indicates a personal favorite piece.

*Invitation
Carnival Ride
Charlatan - Part 1
Charlatan - Part 2
Charlatan - Part 3
Charlatan - Part 4

[The Pirate Dragon]

Keeping this clear just in case

[The Pirate Dragon]

Invitation
By The Pirate Dragon

Never before had I been invited to one of Esmée Sherling's parties. I heard they were very big deals and consisted of dances and drinks, but this was the first time an invitation managed to find its way in my hands. The invitation was a bright blue cardstock with lace covering the edges and white and black lettering that jumped out at you. Everything about it was gaudy and elegant but beneath it all it looked desperate, especially the impersonal butler dressed in a hideous baby blue suit who delivered it. Regardless, I was grateful to be thought of. I actually wanted to attend, now that I was welcome.

When Saturday morning came and I put on my most appropriate dress shirt, I noticed there was a sincere lack of pestering text messages from my sister. I was aware today was a busy day for her, but it's unlike her to abstain from criticizing my latest work or personal project. Even in our youth when she broke her arm, a note still ended up on my dresser that said I should try to write something delightful and not as depressingly dismal. It was nice to ignore these though. It became my second favorite hobby to pretend she didn't exist. Yes, some may find this unhealthy between siblings, but I'd like to think that the best part of our relationship was in not physically seeing each other. We relished it, as long as we still communicated.

Walking up to the large estate of Esmée Sherling was always a breathtaking scene. Breathtaking in the way that you couldn't believe someone actually lived like this. There were tall, cobblestone columns and archways that sat around the engraved stone path which danced towards the front door. An array of abstract shrubbery and exotic flower bushes sat like pedestals in intricate patterns and the sun always seemed to glow with a summer breeze whatever the weather. Even the mansion stood pridefully with French windows and marble walls. The entire house looked like the movie set of an aristocrat, something that fit Esmée Sherling very well as one of the most celebrated movie actresses. Practically anyone important had been to it at some point in their life and children would brag if their parents got to visit its owner in her "golden estate" as they called it.

I entered the vast marble doors and embraced the incoherent babbling of conversations left and right, music shouting from every corner and giddy groups chattering in gossip. There was no one here that I recognized, but I suppose if you're famous enough to be personally invited or lucky enough to be brought along, you'd find someone to talk to. I usually had difficulty with this though. I wandered around the halls and floors that were crowded with people and pretended that I had someone or somewhere I was looking for. Esmée Sherling was probably too busy to converse with me anyways and I wanted not to talk to her until the very end. So, I made myself comfortable at a side table by the food bar in the main hall.

Someone was sitting at a nearby table on their own with a book. It seemed impractical to try and read in such a rowdy place, but simply gazing at all of the predictable party-goers was getting uncomfortable and it looked a good time to instigate conversation.

The girl was in her youth, just barely an adult if she even was one. Bright, fiery hair was flowing from her head and she wore a deep pink dress with a black overcoat. I noticed her book was rather small too, maybe a novel of some sort.

"I commend anyone who has the focus to read a book in a place like this," I moved over to her table. "I hope you don't mind if I ask what book deserves so much attention."
She simply gazed up with burning, ruby eyes and shoved a paper into the book before closing it. "I'm only here to please someone close to me. They ran off with their own friends." Her voice sounded tired and sarcastic but entertained at the same time.

"Ah," I nodded. That was a very familiar feeling to me. "I'm here for something of a similar reason. I've known Esmée Sherling for practically all of my life but only now has she invited me to a party of hers. I don't actually know anyone here."

"Really?" the girl smirked and lifted her chin. "You seem like the type to come here often though. I guess it's just the black slacks and dress shirt of yours. I figured anyone who dresses fancy but casual enough has been here before."

"How do you come to that conclusion?"

"The big gala girls try too hard to impress and the skirt and shirt ones don't look like they know what they're doing or even care in the first place. It's the ones in between that make me think they have a clue."

I chuckled for a bit realizing how judgmental of a person I just met. "Description isn't everything, you know."

"That's funny, I'd have thought you knew that people fit into patterns. It happens everywhere. You're a screenwriter, yeah? You screenwriters look for common stereotypes in people and write characters that make or break them."

I’ve never been noticed for my skills or talents before, it was always the shadows of other people that made me special. "How did you know I was a screenwriter?"

"I do my research. Plus, I kind of like your work. It's gritty and realistic, but in an imaginative kind of way. You're someone who really gets that life is just the same things over and over again."

I liked her analysis. No one ever said that about my work, not even my sister. It was always about how depressing my stories were, how I didn't always add happy endings. I liked to pour my soul into my work and not once had anyone ever appreciated it more than the feel-good fairy tales that teach you vulgar morals. "Thank you," was all I could seem to muster out.

"No problem. I look up to guys like you who have the courage to say what you want."

"I don't always get to do that," I gave a small, hearty laugh again.

After my comment, the great multitude of guests started to hush and turn towards the main hall. People were pushing and shoving to get a better view of Esmée Sherling, now standing on a stage-like platform with a microphone in hand. Seeing her was always a wild card. She changed her hairstyle practically every day to stay unique unless the roles in her acting career demanded otherwise. Black, undulating hair with blue highlights were her trademark though, and she was almost never seen without eyeshadows and blushes adorning her pure face. The pleasing grin plastered on her magazines made a comeback and a sleek, elegant dress of navy with shining, gray star decorations accented her perfectly curved figure. Boys would swoon over her and girls would model themselves after her. Not even directors minded that she had only four basic acting personalities because she improved ratings and brought colorful eye candy to any sort of film.

"I want to thank all of you for coming here today," her voice sang like a canned response. "It means so much to me. It's people like you who have truly made my life interesting and worthwhile. I remember when my brother would tell me that I'd have to work for ages to get a good acting career, but someone picked me out of the rest and recognized that I had talent."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Esmée Sherling was always full of herself and would take any chance to earn good public reception. That girl had broken my heart enough times and all she had to say for it was a teasing insult.

"Zerrin Areli, my manager and best friend," she gestured down to a man with luscious hair and a gaudy vest, similar to Esmée Sherling's own interests. "He has always been there for me and never ceases to amaze me. I don't know where I would be without him! But let's be honest." She started to face the audience and open her arms out. "You guys are the ones who pick the favorites, you are the ones who motivate me to continue my job and performance. It's all because of my fans and admirers that I got to the place that I'm at and I could never be more grateful for all of you!" The crowd cheered with praise and agreement and seemed to be enthralled in her act. Only a few like myself stared on in absence of reaction.

"That is why I am so pleased to be nominated for the Broach Revival in Acting Gift here in Cennet. It's a world-wide award that very exclusive talent ever gets the chance to earn and it's a golden star to my career! All of this popularity and love that I have has brought attention to the judges and it would never be possible without all of your help. So eat food, chat away, have fun! This party is a celebration not just to my nomination, but our nomination, because you're the ones who have done the real hard work. Thank you everyone!" Esmée Sherling stepped down from her platform and began to mingle once again with the crowd, getting cheers, compliments, roses, gifts, and beloved attention.

I turned back to ask for my new acquaintance's name, but it seemed she moved to her own activities in the speech and I could not see her. It looked like I was on my own again.

People were leaving after my few hours of watching them chatter the nights away and laugh about the pointless things in life. I wanted to join them at first and get right to my own work again instead of wasting time and drinking sparkling water, but there had to be a reason I was invited today. Bragging rights? Rubbing it in? To keep me in current events? Esmée Sherling was always a strange mystery to me and possibly the most hated and loved person of mine. I hated how she teased me. I loved how she listened to me. I hated how she told me she cared about me. I loved how she told me she didn't. At times I couldn't tell if she had a personality disorder or if she just couldn't decide if she was still acting or not. Being a celebrity was all she seemed to care about now, that or she thought everything else had been lost for too long.

She got me entranced in trying to remember the moments we spent together in childhood. Sometimes, I couldn't bear to think that the lead in our middle school rendition of Wicked grew up to be dispassionate yet so elaborately careful. I wanted to write stories for her to perform on stage, but she liked the glittery musicals and cheesy soap-operas that flashed on everyone's screens. Esmée Sherling was another victim to the popular fads of everyone's shared interests.

"So you actually came," the hostess’ voice stabbed my thoughts. "I wasn't sure you'd be interested in coming."

"Well, I was finally invited. I wouldn't have the right to complain about being left out if I passed down a legitimate invitation."

"What did you think of my little speech there?" she smiled and tilted her shoulders out as she placed her hands on her hips. "I did make most of it up on the spot, but after giving so many similar ones out, practice is something I hardly need."

"Yes, Esmée, you did fine. Congratulations on that award, by the way. I know you've been working on it for ages."

"Who knows, maybe after doing some studies on public interests you could actually write something award worthy too, Hobbes."

"I don't write to please the public," I snapped with a bit of disdain. It was a tireless routine of trying to prove my purpose over and over. "My time will come when it's ready."

"Maybe it will, maybe it won't. Stop trying to be the next Edgar Allan Poe and maybe you'll realize that there's actual happiness in life with other people."

At this point, I couldn't tell if she was joking, rubbing old wounds, or just spiteful.

"Well, I have to manage clean up," she started to walk off, but before she completely left me to myself, she turned back with one last response. "You know, you could've come to any of my parties whenever you wanted. I thought I didn't need to give a formal letter to my own brother."

[The Pirate Dragon]

Carnival Ride
By The Pirate Dragon
(Originally made for the Vaiki Vaicarnival Summer Event in 2016)

When Devron's parents said they had a surprise for him, going to the carnival was not what he expected. Or wanted. The bright lights blinded him, the shrill cheers of carousels deafened him, the hundreds of bodies and families crowded him and the sticky floors and soda spills irked him. Each smell seemed to tickle his nose and make it curl. This wasn't the park or the garden or the grocery store or anything simple-minded that he valued before, it was more of a zoo of tourists, or a chaotic mall of creatures. Either way, the skeptical little boy wanted to go home.

"What do you think!?" his mother looked down at him with glee as they stood right inside the entrance gate. Her neon eyes practically beaming like the signs flashing around them. "Is this not the coolest surprise or what!?"

"Well, it's a surprise," Devron mumbled.

"Relax," his father looked over at her. "He probably doesn't know where we are. Dev, this is the Vaicarnival, you remember all those flyers we kept getting in the mail? Remember what we said about how it's a big event everybody goes to during the summer? Well this is it! Now you get to see why everybody loves it."

Devron fell silent. He wanted to see why everyone loved getting shoved into cramped carts and flung around until they puked or getting shown pointless talents and knick-knacks but he was still looking for the answer.

"Hey, they have rides here!" his mother pointed up at the large contraptions around the lot.

"I know mom, I can see that..." he grumbled out and slouched his shoulders up, grasping his parents hands stronger.

"And other things too," his father chimed in. He started to swing his hand holding Devron's and looked over to him. "They've got food and drinks, little shows and stuff, they've also got games."

"Oooooh, games!" she cried out and clapped. "You totally love games."

Devron just stood silent for a little bit and kept his slightly furrowed eyebrows and bland expression.

"Seriously, it's not much different from what you normally do. Come on, we'll all go together." His father started to lead the three of them towards the ticket pay booth and pulled out his wallet. He reached for the tickets when the man in the pay booth leaned over and saw Devron.

"Hey kid, excited for the rides?" Clearly this man could not see the boy's face. Devron was trying his best to express the fact that he wanted to go home and scorned his parent's purchase of tickets he wasn't going to use. He wanted to yell out and run right out of the park, but the last time he did something like that he got grounded from television and that was something he valued a bit too much. The best way he could express his feelings without risk of consequence was pull on the limbs of his parental figures and gaze into their eyes to show his true misery. Maybe, just maybe, if his parents had half a heart, they'd spare him this discord and take him home (and get him ice cream on the way too).

"No." was his blatant response. "I don't like this."

"It's his first time," his father smiled sheepishly and put the tickets into his pocket. "He doesn't really know what it's like."

The man in the booth chuckled a hearty laugh and looked down again. "Well hey, did you know we give stickers to kids here for their first time? I hear you get special things to happen if people see your sticker!" He pulled a little circle off a nearby sheet and reached out of his window to place it on Devron's head. "Here you go kid." The boy grumbled a little louder.

Walking off, the three of them started to get closer to attractions (and closer to people). There were booths filled with tall men and women all wearing striped suits and slicked back hair, there were ginormous hats and ridiculous shoes on painted little men, reds and blues lit up the halls and stands, and every now and then someone was carrying a foam finger or a great big plush toy. Even sounds were pouring from each speaker that popped up from the ground as sticky, sweet smells made the air thicker. It seemed like the carnival lot just went on and on and on for days like they had entered some strange, new world. Nobody here seemed to value their money as long as a carnival attendant presented a prize. A shutter sound was heard every single second from all around the crowds. What people would normally scoff and turn at became the pique of wonderment and awe. The little boy looking up to a foreign dome of excitement and energy nearly toppled over with overwhelming emotions. He wanted to ask what everything was but there was too much. Too much to point at, too much to listen to, too much to look towards, too much to smell, too much to feel, too much to run into. Especially that last one.

Devron's back hit someone else's and he spun around. The lady he bumped into was wearing the staff outfit of red and white striped overalls and a blue shirt and was carrying a white plate with little brown squares. "Oh, hey, is it your first time here?" Unsure what to do, he looked around at his parents and realized they were busy talking to a vendor at the next stall. He subtly nodded his head. "I knew it!" the lady cried out. "Your sticker says so. Here, wanna sample?"

He cautiously raised his hand to the plate but found himself stopped by uncertainty. "What is it?"

"It's caramel fudge. We're famous for it you know, we sell out practically every city we go to."

"Uhm, I've never had it before. What does it taste like," his tone got lower with his head as if he wanted to ask a question, but wasn't sure if he really wanted to keep up the conversation.

The woman just laughed something that sounded like a carousel song and picked off a piece to hand to him. "I guess you won't know if you don't try!"

Devron hated that phrase. It was like saying you'd have to see if it would kill you or hurt you or something and he hated going to new places or trying new things because he liked knowing the outcomes. He liked knowing he was safe or secure and not knowing immediately destroyed that.

Still... it was just a piece of candy, right? Devron took the piece and hesitantly put it on his tongue. He started to chew until the sticky, sweet block smashed onto his back tooth, then the one next to it, then the one next to that, and so on until his whole mouth was in some sort of sugary quicksand.

"Ish all ovah my teef!" He shrieked. "Bleh, get it out!"

Alarmed, the vendor woman jumped back with his panicking and grabbed a small cup of water and threw it all over him. It did work at stopping his crying out, but now he was actually crying.

"No no!" she waved her hands around. "Uh, it's all fine! Look, I'll go get another cup of water for you to drink! I can get you another free sample! Just hold on! I swear it'll be all okay!" She quickly ran off and grabbed another cup, but this time Devron threw the cup on the ground and ran over to his parents. He didn't want anybody to touch him while he was wet and he didn't want anymore of that atrocious mouth-death-trap candy that supposedly sold out at every twisted city.

He hobbled over to his parents in wet clothing and people started to stop and notice thanks to his shrieking all over the booths. Devron didn't care that practically everyone around the entire area was looking at him or that the candy woman had started freaking out and murmuring about her job and pay grade. The only thing he cared about was that he was unhappy and upset and he wanted to go home. There weren't annoying lights at home or unmanageable candy or loud, obnoxious rides or what felt like a million people staring down at him.

His parents, faces red and flustered, grabbed and payed for the nearest stuffed animal toy at the vendor they were at and shoved it into their son's face, grabbed his hand, and walked out as dignified as they could look before more people started to stare at them.

Devron held his new toy with sudden satisfaction and started to lower his wail by stuffing his face into the plush penguin that was priced more than it was worth. He felt like his plan worked, now that he was going home, and started to lighten up once he was in the car and on the road back to where he came from.

"Well, that was kind of a bust," his father sighed. "We'll try again tomorrow, right? It's a good thing it's still open for a couple of weeks!"

Devron's eyes widened.

[The Worst Username]

Does anyone mind if I mark this? Have a nice day!

[Ranger of the North]

Oh, wow. That first one was a shocker—really caught me by surprise at the end! XP

Grrrr. Devron's a brat >:c

I look forward to more from you!

[The Pirate Dragon]

Does anyone mind if I mark this? Have a nice day!

Thanks!

Oh, wow. That first one was a shocker—really caught me by surprise at the end! XP

Grrrr. Devron's a brat >:c

I look forward to more from you!

Aaah, I'm glad you like them! I really enjoy the first one so I'm glad others do as well.

[The Pirate Dragon]

As part of my goal to write and post at east one piece every month, I'll be posting bits to a mini series I've been working on soon. The first part will be posted here later tonight!

[The Pirate Dragon]

((I totally meant to post this here later but I forgot. I will upload the next part on the 3rd!))

Charlatan
By The Pirate Dragon

Part 1

The Bard Bakery was the world's first 24-hour home of baked goods. Sweet, moist pillows of sugary goods graced with chocolate chips hit the racks while the sun was up and savory, crunchy biscuits with herbs and flares were displayed while the moon took place. It all worked because the twin-looking girls who inherited their father's bakery thrived in different times of the day: Genevra "Gigi" Bard claimed 6am to 6pm hours and Gianara "Gina" Bard 6pm to 6am. Most would think a bakery only needed to be open during the day when families came in to treat their kids, or a worker would come in to satisfy the day (and a sweet tooth), but the plush booths and pink and green striped wallpaper had quite a large array of customers during the night - most of them regulars. The Bard Bakery, decorated like a childish dream, held a secret when the sun went down.

Avalon liked this bakery, he liked the Bard sisters, and he especially liked secrets. He liked secrets so much that he devoted his entire career to finding any and every last secret in the world - so long as he worked as a subordinate with another to take the claim (and possible consequences) of these secrets. So, when a Bard sister asked for Avalon's help involving a secret of the bakery, he couldn't be more eager to take the job, check or no check.

It started when a mug appeared on his table in the corner booth of the bakery.

"Oh, did I order already?"

He looked up to see a girl with short, butterscotch hair and green candy eyes wearing a t-shirt and apron around her waist. She had her hands on her hips in a friendly gesture and a casual smile. "No, but you come here practically every day now. It used to be once a week the last couple of years. Don't you have a job or something? Isn't it like 'Sidekick for hire?'"

Avalon looked down at the mug to the scent of a mint mocha cocoa. "Wow. You remembered my regular."

"Every day now, Ava, every day!" she chuckled. "Besides, you're like the only one to order mint. Or hot cocoa."

He leaned back in the booth and took a big swig of his drink. "I just don't do coffee, it's not my thing. And I have a real job, it's been slow. I'm kind of grateful."

"Thank goodness I don't have to worry about a slow job, I'd be bored to death. I don't know what my sister does at night with no customers. It's probably internet stuff."

"Hey Gigi, did you know that a lot of the fairy tale books published are all by the same guy with many different pen names?"

She started to walk towards the entrance to the kitchen and waved her hand in disbelief. "How would that even work out? I gotta go work."

The moment the kitchen doors were pushed open, another girl bolted to Avalon's booth and sat opposite to him.

"Hi Ava." She stared right into his eyes. She looked practically identical to Gigi, but her hair was ruffled and her pink candy eyes looked tired in her pale face. She was also a little smaller. "'Sup."

"I didn't know you were even awake at this hour, Gina."

"Yeah, I kinda do whatever. Look, you do stuff 'cause people pay you to, right?"

"Sure, but um, detective-like stuff, just to be clear."

"Good. I want you to come back a bit before nine when I'm on my shift tonight, I got something pretty cool to show you and it only works on Mondays or I have to wait a week and I don't really wanna."

She left in a hurry before Gigi came back out with a tray of cookies.