Short Story

Well, it’s a thing I did. I’m not sure it’s even a story, but it was kind of fun to write and I AM going to start writing more, so bad writing is better than none.

Kyrie skipped forward over the boards. It was another lovely evening and the bright starlight illuminated every step as she move towards the boat. She looked at the stern of the first boat, then the second and finally on the third she saw the carved image near the waterline. Too low, but the boat was riding low. Kyrie wondered what she would find as she lightly scampered up the fore dockline.

The deck was quiet, a pair of sailors sitting playing dice over a barrel. Theoretically, they were probably supposed to be on guard. Kyrie smirked as she slipped past them. The fog rolled over the deck from under her cloak. She dropped into the hull.

The cargo hull was nearly empty, but water stood almost knee-deep. Patches on the hull showed where the ship had clearly seen damage and been repaired on the sea. Kyrie stepped carefully until she reached the patch, aware of the water each time it rippled under her weight. She stepped next to the patch and put her hands on the wood. It sighed against her and more water seeped through around her feet.

“Oi, that won’t do.”

Reaching into the wood, she pulled on the fibers and began to weave. She started with a quick knot here and there to hold everything a bit tighter. Once she was done with the first pass, she went back over the work, weaving in a design. She wanted to encourage the water away, so she wove in the images of desert dunes, rolling like waves of ancient oceans which long-since dried up.

The wood sighed in relief. Kyrie nodded once firmly and patted the patch with her hand. Well, the place which had been a patch. Only one of her kind would see where the wood was blended. She stamped a foot and the water under her feet sluggishly began to drain out the boat.

She stepped outside and nodded, the boat now sat at the proper height on the water. She went to the galley and took a bottle of ale and loaf of bread. She looked at the jam that had clearly also been left for her, but sniffed a little and turned away. She skipped along the rails of the ship and then down into the water. She would need to remind Mother that there was still a pact ship on the waves. It would make her happy.


2 thoughts on “Short Story”

  1. The story invited me in, then i was there. Breathing the salt air and watching the wood fibers be woven to health. Would love to go back.

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