This is just a random collection of different short-stories that are inspired by art!
Seeing drawings of starry nights, winter woods, a fearsome pirate, or a foreboding castle just... sparks my imagination and I find myself creating a small story li...
This story is a bit more detailed than anything I've ever written. If you are uncomfortable with the following, then please feel free to skip this short story... - Blood - Death - Man handling and ogling (though nothing comes of it) - It's NOT gory though
I hope you enjoy this historical-fiction/legendary story I've created! Clarissa, my Character, is supposed to be the daughter of an infamous pirate who, supposedly, existed and pirated through 1783-1821. No one really knows if he's fact or legendary fiction... 🏴☠️
🏴☠️➖🏴☠️➖🏴☠️➖🏴☠️➖🏴☠️
Summer - 1800 Aboard the Brig: Liber Petitor
Clarissa pressed her hands over her ears as the sound of cannons firing and the screams that erupted from the fight on deck grew as loud as thunder.
Truly, the only reason why she was here was because she was cursed to have been born the daughter of Captain José Gaspar — better known as Gasparilla the Pirate. Of course, she's never met the man, but that's beside the point. Because she bares his surname, she and her mother were looked down on and sneered at their entire life. Her mother had worked hard to make a living for the two of them, opening a tailor shop in England, where they lived. Everyone would always be wary of them though. Perhaps they assumed the husband who had abandoned his pregnant wife would come back to them one day...? Whatever the cause, it hindered Clarissa's chance to marry a suitable man so she could have a roof over her head, stability, and a livelihood. The stability that her mother offered Clara was dashed to pieces, like a ship on the rocks, when she died suddenly.
Another blast of a cannon tore through the wall of the Galley where she was now hiding, making her retreat further into the corner she had tucked herself into.
An old friend of her mother's had been in port a few days after her mother's death and took pity on the eighteen year old girl who found herself tossed about in a sea of uncertainty. That old friend happens to be the cook on the brig that she was now on. Billy Moan offered to bring her on his next voyage that was heading to the, somewhat new, United States of America, where her mother's sister was living. So, with the help of Billy, Clarissa sold the tailor shop, along with most of their belongings, and readied herself for the upcoming trip.
There was a catch, however. He had told the captain of the brig that he was taking a young boy along to help him in the Galley. A boy! So, that's the reason why Clarissa was now wearing a loose tunic that was two sizes too big for her, an oversized vest, baggy pants that made her look scrawny instead of petite, and a cap over her waist long, black hair. A bit of grime smeared across her face covered most of her features and a hanky tied around her neck hid her smooth, brown skin.
