Ritual

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It was not long now before the sunset and Harin knew that he would have to hurry. The first day of spring had come and the Kraken would need to be appeased if the village was to have an unhindered fishing year.

“Hurry up Harin,” Taris shouted from the waiting boat.

“Don’t rush us,” Harin replied. “We still need to say the words.”

Harin’s brother, Tarin, poured the scented oil over the offering and Harin began the incantation.

“So be it,” they said in unison as spell ended and the last drop of oil fell upon the offering.

“Now lets get back to the village before it arrives to take its tribute,” Tarin urged, and the two brothers joined their cousin in the boat and pulled with all their might to distance themselves from the sacrifice rock.

They knew that in the morning all of the offerings would be gone except for a few bones. They didn’t want theirs to be among them.

Thus the spring ritual ended. The village would indeed have a successful fishing season. No great storms would wreck their habour. The boats would again all return from their daily fishing.

As for the Kraken, no one was really sure if it really appeciated the tribute, but safe was safe. Besides, the gulls all seemed to enjoy the leftovers.


Padre

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #113

Mer-Realm

man in black shorts in water

Jack Delulio at Unsplash

Curious air-breather be careful what you seek

For the Mer-realm – despite its mystique

Is a place of hazard beyond the limits of your physique

And it’s a place of peril, if you go too deep

Return you to the surface

And make this not your grand mistake

But stick to your world of dryness

Or face the sleep from which you never wake


Padre

Depths’ Call

CCC #119

How far shall we descend?

How deep shall we dare to go?

How far out into the tide?

Is a question hard to know

Shall we wander away from land

Far from the realm of breath and air

Into the depths of Nepture’s lair

Where cold fingers of death may enclose?

Trouble me not with warnings shrill

Of tidings of impending doom

For the waters call to our mariners’ hearts

And I think they forever will


Padre

CCC #119

The Hail

Pirates, Sailing Ship, Frigate, Ship
Pixabay

Robert Hilyard was far from the most likely pirate.  He was the captain of the schooner Lilly Margaret and costal trade had been hard of late.  It was owing to this that he decided to try his hand at being a Buccaneer.

He consulted his men, and they too were up for the enterprise, and with the two small defensive cannon on board they decided that they needed to up their firepower.  After hard work on small jobs afloat and ashore, they managed to scrape together sufficient funds for a ten-pounder to augment the ship’s two six-pounders.

When all was ready the Lilly Margaret sailed from Philadelphia in search of prey.  She sited a cargo vessel off of Cape Hatteras and set out in pursuit.  As she was drawing near, a massive fog bank swallowed the two ships, but the relentless Hilyard carried onwards.  At first he could see its running lights, but soon after he lost track of his quarry.

As the sun rose higher, the fog began to break up and the Lilly Margaret caught glimpse of a vessel ahead of her to starboard.  The crew rolled out the guns and prepared to call for the ship to prepare to be boarded.  

Hilyard grabbed his long-hailer and announced his presence.  “Ahoy, vessel – this is the Black Lilly.”

Before he could continue his demand a voice came from the fog, “Ahoy vessel this is the US Frigate Essex.”

Hilyard gulped and quickly responded, “Hallo Essex, can you tell us how far it is to Charleston?”


Padre

FOWC with Fandango — Hail