#i just remember how majestic the run cycle was on the queen and so i had to revisit

[miniyellow5]

I'm tearing my hair out OUGGGHHHHH THIS SCENE AAAAAAAAAA

[theyearoftheking]

Book Forty-Nine: Black House

“Here is a true American loner, an internal vagrant, a creature of shabby rooms and cheap diners, of aimless journeys resentfully taken, a collector of wounds and injuries lovingly fingered and refingered. Here is a spy with no cause higher than himself.” 

After almost fifty books, The Talisman still stands at the top of the leader board as my favorite Steve book. It’s richly layered, full of memorable characters and horrible villains, with a satisfying conclusion. It’s the type of book fantasy and horror lovers alike are eager to escape into. 

It’s sometimes hard to embrace the sequel to a book you love so much... I mean, I can be bought, but my criteria are stringent:

Consider setting the book in Wisconsin... perhaps the beautiful, sad, remote, desolate western part of the state right along the Mississippi river.

Maybe a Dahmer reference? 

Scratch that. Instead, go with an old-school serial killer no one really talks about anymore. How about... Albert Fish? He’s pretty gross. 

On second thought, reconsider a Dahmer reference. Maybe an evil spirit that links Dahmer and Fish together? 

TONS of Dark Tower references. 

If Steve and Pete were to consider writing a follow up to The Talisman with all these elements, I might consider reading it. 

Spoiler! 

Dark House contains all this goodness, and more. 

It’s so fucking dark, y’all. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to drive past a long-term care facility and NOT think about an old man inside wanting to eat the buttocks of small children.

Oh hey, trigger warnings for cannibalism, and violence against children. 

So, Dark House is set in fictional Coulee County, Wisconsin (not a place). But Steve and Pete (I need to start giving Peter Straub some shout outs as well) describe the western part of the state magnificently. Not too long ago I had a sales job that required me to travel the entire state, and I always loved my jaunts west. I’d park right along the Mississippi, eat my lunch and just soak up the isolation. I’d much rather make the drive to Pierce county than the Quad Cities, which my current employer is asking of me. *Silent scream for help*

Despite Coulee being fictional, the actual Wisconsin references are thick:

De Pere (where we recently found out Steve spent a few formative years)

The Brewers 

Miller Park 

Kingsland Ale- while fictional, it’s a nod to Wisconsin’s rich brewing history, and favorable climate for microbreweries

Dahmer (several times, actually)

Racine. Y’all. I have no idea what Steve’s obsession is with Racine... it comes up in multiple books. It’s really not that great. Take that from someone who spent a brief period of time working there. Honestly, my favorite thing about Racine is the authentic Thai restaurant right in downtown, Sticky Rice. If you find yourself in Racine, please go check them out... their red devil curry is amaze-balls. 

So, yes... lots of Wisconsin. Also, lots of Dark Tower:

Eye of the King

Crimson King

The Tower

Red roses

Breakers

Little Sisters 

Gunslingers and their weapons

Roland and the ka-tet

Monos! Blaine and Patricia

Chief Breaker Brautigan- who allegedly tells hilarious stories about his escapes. I miss him already. 

I have questions about how Steve convinced Pete to include so many Dark Tower elements into this book...

Steve:  “Pete, bud... I know you might have a different vision for how this book plays out. Buuut what about if we make it part of the Dark Tower universe?”

Pete: Stares for a long minute. “Um, I thought that series was dead in the water. Do we really need to use Dark House to resuscitate it?” 

Steve: “Remember the car accident? You know, the one that almost took my leg?” 

Pete *Oh fuck, he’s bringing up the car accident as a bid for sympathy, and to convince me to make this a Dark Tower book...* “Of course I remember!”

Steve: “Well, it shook some things loose. I’m about ready to finish the series. I just thought it might be fun if we make this book a lead-up to the finale” 

Pete: “It’s intriguing, but I’m not really sure it’s the direction I want to go in. I was thinking more-”

Steve: “I ALMOST DIED IN THAT ACCIDENT!” 

Pete: “Cool, Dark Tower book it is!” 

I should write fan fiction. I’ve obviously got a gift. 

Black House is told from a birds-eye narration view. Literally... there’s this fat, evil crow named Gorg flying all over town, giving us the lay of Coulee County. Bad stuff has been going on: little children have gone missing, and only a few of their bodies have turned back up mutilated and broken. 

The chief of police, Dale Gilbertson, knows he’s in over his head, and keeps trying to convince his pal, retired police detective, Jack “Hollywood” Sawyer to come consult on the case.

Jack isn’t having it. He retired young and moved to Coulee County from Los Angeles after tracking down and arresting serial killer Thorny Kinderling. The majestic beauty of western Wisconsin caught him by surprise, and he happily invested in reasonably priced (read: cheap) real estate with a view. 

Upon moving to Wisconsin, Jack befriended Dale’s blind uncle Henry Leydon; who voices several radio programs, including The Wisconsin Rat, which plays indy screamo bands and has plenty of shock-jock antics. The two hang out together, listen to jazz music, and sometimes Jack reads to Henry. Henry was able to use his elevated senses to study Jack’s speech pattern and figure out Jack’s mom was THE Lily Cavanaugh; the Queen of the B’s. 

While Jack and Henry are reading Bleak House, Charles “Burny” Burnside is wandering around the Maxton Elder Care Facility, pretending to have dementia, and dragging children into The Territories for Lord Malshun to either use as Breakers, or for Burny to snack on if they have no Breaking skills. So, Burny’s a bad dude who did some suspicious things in Chicago; but an evil spirit (the same one who invaded Albert Fish and Jeffrey Dahmer’s bodies) is what’s causing his kidnapping and cannibalistic urges. I know I say this every ten books or so, but Burny might be the worst King villain ever. I was not upset later on when his intestines were violently ripped from his body.

A sweet little boy (with strong Breaker powers) named Tyler Marshall goes missing outside the Maxton Elder Care Facility. While he was being pulled into the bushes by Gorg who kept repeating his name; his mother, Judy receives a taunting package and letter from The Fisherman, which sends her over the brink, and she’s institutionalized. 

Tyler’s disappearance really amps up the town outrage, and Jack agrees to help the police department out. He’s starting to suspect there’s some Territories nonsense going down, and he can help. 

From here, the book goes at break-neck pace and includes everything from micro-brewing bikers, a dog bite that causes one to dissolve into a foamy puddle on the couch, our old friend Speedy Parker showing up as a gunslinger, the world’s most annoying newspaper reporter, plenty of flipping between worlds via the creepy old black house hidden in the woods, and a happy(ish) ending. Honestly, there’s a warning at the end of the book, which allows you to choose your own ending. You can stop reading five pages before the end, and enjoy a happy ending where the good guys win; or you can get the real world ending. Both are satisfying... I recommend reading all the way to the end. 

So, just a few quotes for you... 

“Wolf died of a disease called America.” 

This line gutted me. I didn’t realize how much I loved Wolf as a character, until I had to read a follow-up that didn’t include him. His soul was too clean and beautiful for a fucked-up world like the one we currently live in. 

“He doesn’t like the cell phone to begin with- twenty-first-century slave bracelets, he thinks them...”

No explanation needed. 

“Why must life always demand so much and give so little? Parkus answers her question with a single word: ka.” 

Again, no explanation needed. 

Was this book as good as The Talisman? 

No. 

Did I want more? 

Absolutely.

But was I satisfied with the end?

You bet your (un-chomped on) ass.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 33

Total Dark Tower References: 50

Book Grade: A-

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Black House: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Storm of the Century: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Now I move onto From a Buick Eight. I’ve had an advanced reading copy since the book came out, but never had the urge to actually read it. That should tell you everything you need to know about my level of enthusiasm right now. I’m hoping it’s not a Christine 2.0. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca 

[and-all-that-palaver]

A Theory on Ciel’s Real Name

A question we've all been pondering ever since Yana revealed Ciel wasn't actually Ciel.

I've had this theory in mind for a while but after a few of the recent chapters I decided this theory might be very possible.

What if Ciel's real name is Finnian?

First off on the cover page of Chapter 132 we can see Vincent reading this book called 'Fenian Cycle' to the twins.

The Fenian cycle is a collection of short stories centering around this character called Fionn mac Cumhaill (his name is translated to Fionn in modern Irish but was also known as Find and Finn in old Irish) and his warriors the Fianna. Basically, Fionn is the son of the the late Cumhaill (the former leader of the Fianna) and was always on the run and in hiding as a child from the men who slain his father. The current leader of the Fianna did not want Fionn to take his rightful ownership as the leader of the Fianna. This can parellel with how Vincent was slaughtered and how Our Ciel was always seen as the weaker and timid child compared to Real Ciel who was depicted as the braver and stronger of the two. Not to mention Real Ciel is the rightful heir to the Watchdog title and the Earl of Phantomhive, not Our Ciel. It is also worth noting that in the recent chapters where Real Ciel has mysteriously and grandiosely reappeared he seems to have this underlying vendetta to get his title back. To make things simpler, it's as if Real Ciel is trying to 'steal' Our Ciel's 'title' as the Queen's Watchdog and although he is the rightful heir, Yana has made us all read through and experience Our Ciel carrying out the Watchdog duty so in a way, we are able to empathise with him as being the 'rightful' person to do this job and that this duty 'rightfully' belongs to him.

What follows from the story is that Fionn showcases how great and omnipotent he really is and eventually regains his leadership of the Fianna and spends the rest of the story roaming Ireland, carrying out the duties of the Fianna. This parallels greatly with Kuroshitsuji as Our Ciel proves he is capable of the Watchdog title and being an earl. He is calculating, dexterous, and vigilant. And we as readers watch as he masterfully carries out the Watchdog duties throughout each arc.

What I'd like to point out next is this:

Notice that look of surprise on Our Ciel's face in the left hand corner panel when he sees Finny. I interpreted this as Our Ciel seeing a reflection of himself (or his past self) in Finny somehow. Both of them were kidnapped and locked up and used as 'lab rats' for heinous, nefarious reasons.

I think Our Ciel also recognised the distant, faraway look in Finny's eyes as somebody who has gone through an equally heartwrenching, dark experience as he has.

Granted, they both also watched as their loved ones/close friends were brutally murdered right before their very eyes.

This was Finny when he watched a doctor gun down two of his fellow inmates:

And this is Our Ciel watching his twin brother, Real Ciel (whom he seems to have a very close relationship with based on the flashback chapters) getting stabbed right before him:

I found it really interesting how similar Yana drew both of these panels when showing how both these characters witness the murdering of their loved ones/close friends (especially the eye panels where she highlighted the pure shock in them). 

There are other interesting parallels that could possibly hint that Our Ciel’s name is actually Finnian. Both Finny and Our Ciel were branded (one with a slave mark and the other with a tattoo) to indicate whom they belonged to.

And in this sense, it shows how both were being treated as mere objects instead of actual human beings.

Moreover, one compelling fact is that both Our Ciel and Finny were the only ones to survive their horrendous ordeal (I'm not taking Real Ciel into account because as of now we are unsure as to whether he actually survived or was revived or is some form of developed Bizarre Doll, although I would place my bet on the latter as there is no possible indication whatsoever that he could've survived). In addition to this, in order to escape from their cruel captors they both sought to killing them.

This was the doctor that shot Finny's fellow inmates:

And I think this panel speaks for itself:

So I assume this was one of the reasons why Our Ciel spared Finny's life on that day and hired him as a Phantomhive servant. Finny reminded Our Ciel of himself (or again, his past self) in terms of how they were both victims of human greed and savagery.

I found other interesting links that could possibly hint at Our Ciel's name being Finnian. One of them is how both Our Ciel and Finny are caring, selfless individuals who tend to think about the people around them first rather than themselves (in Our Ciel's case, I suppose this trait was more dominant before the kidnapping and the whole cult event that ensued).

Also, Our Ciel was depicted as a naïve, wide-eyed innocent child which is basically Finny in a nutshell.

And here's a bonus picture of a̶ ̶c̶u̶t̶i̶e̶ Our Ciel getting really mad because Real Ciel told him that it was silly to believe in something he hadn't seen before (and if you do believe in Santa then by all means you do you).

What really striked me is how similar Finny is compared to the younger version of Our Ciel. I've already cited the evidence as shown above but this revelation only further strengthens my belief that Ciel's possible name could be Finnian.

I think it's also worth mentioning that out of all the servants Finny seems to be the closest to Our Ciel and remember, Finny was the only one who saw through Real Ciel when he first entered the manor.

I also find it interesting how Finny was the only one that Our Ciel allowed to be near him and to tend to him during the Emerald Witch Arc. 

During this time Our Ciel had broken down completely and reverted into the part of himself whom he vowed he'd never be anymore. So why was Finny the only person who was allowed to be near Our Ciel during his extreme mental breakdown? Even Sebastian whom Our Ciel seems to 'trust' the most was rejected and thrown aside. Well, I'd like to think that was because Our Ciel could relate to Finny in some way. Since I've mentioned how similar younger version of Our Ciel and Finny actually are, considering how Our Ciel has relapsed into his 'old' self, 'the one who died on the altar', I'd assume he found comfort in Finny because Finny represented him. He allowed Finny to stay because Finny could understand and empathise with him. Kind, innocent, selfless, and caring. These were all prevalent traits Our Ciel possessed before he was tortured by the cult. And these are all the traits that Finny possesses after he was rescued from the lab (granted, I'm sure Finny had kindness and a sense of closeness with his fellow inmates but these characteristics did not have the opportunity to grow or nurture until he was rescued by Our Ciel). What's also interesting is how Yana illustrates Our Ciel and Finny's relationship being far more prominent than with the other Phantomhive servants. 

With the way this is worded, I can only assume it was Our Ciel who actually invited Finny and not vice versa so this shows that he feels comfortable in Finny's presence. Again we are presented with parallels between these two characters and I'd like to think that it's not all just a coincidence. 

Bonus indications that Our Ciel is actually a Finnian/Finny:

1) I'm probably being a little too far-fetched here but both Our Ciel and Finny had injections during their time in captivity.

I know it's kind of a "So what?" point but knowing how Yana loves to add in obviously ridiculous and ridiculously obvious hints I thought this was worth taking note.

2) Take a look at this panel.

Judging by how Our Ciel says "Um..." before stating his name I assume he hasn't prepared himself for a situation like the one unfolding before him to occur. Also, he was unprepared for the first test that he had to pass through in order to become recruited as one of the circus members. He had no idea as to how or when Sebastian would help him until his darts were surprisingly hitting the target after every single throw. This means that Ciel was utterly and completely unaware of how things would play out when he arrived. So, back to my original statement, the fact that he paused and THEN claimed his name was Finnian could be an instinctive and reflex statement as again, he was caught off guard and responded with the first thing that came to his mind. Why Finnian? Perhaps because that was his name?

Then we have Joker responding with, "That's a grand name," and we know for a fact that Vincent mentioned this:

The fact that Joker says 'grand', not 'beautiful' or 'nice', could indicate that even he himself has not heard of the name often (if ever) and is amazed by how a mere 'pageboy' could possess such a name. Moreover, the word 'grand' itself has royal connotations to it, giving one the impression of something majestic and glorious just like how the Phantomhives are perceived as.

So there you have it! Of course, this is all mere speculation and nothing is confirmed, some of the points made could also be bias on my part so you may take this with a grain of salt. As always, you are free to tell me your own opinions on this if you want! Thanks for reading~

[yourhuckleberrypocket]

- Free texts reading -

Swords? Come on, try another… Kindness, yes! It can be, Aaah, My love for freedom! Go on… A dream? 

 “Listen to me! You will listen to me! To be a dreamer has no fear! To be a dreamer is to accept the rust in his blood scorned by cheap metals! We are born, because we are called by our fathers, to return what has been lost! And to show them, quit justice, quit peril! Let them show our freedom, and fight as freemen! To be a dreamer is stronger and let them know what we can do! Let them cower! Gentlemen, hoist the colours…”

                                                                                                - Eva Rouelle -

Blacks under the light on silhouette walls, 1792 is a summer of wind and season trying to crawl its sunlight inside the beaming bedroom of the likes of Coraline Jones, but one with happy light and setting. Papers fell on the floor sticky and wet, trash but important. It was all pieces and dirty, and the bigger the book, the bigger my dream. Toys of the like are his hobbies, no, no, but they weren’t toys at all. They were made with joyous plastic now a skeleton, they were covered with playful paintings now broken pieces of wires. His is a spirit of an inventor and mechanic. His stare to mine is much delicate than my stern and my big book of puzzles, his stare to mine is nothing hyperbolic than his dyslexia.

            There’s nothing tremendous to my gift I kept on catalogue to myself. Come on, hurt me. Then I’ll red marked the list and leave you. There is like floating potions the reason for Alice’s size, however, they were for invisibility and science nothing matters. The wooden framed picture was a picture of words. Literally, a picture of words. Made by grotesque elements and conventional canvas with the colours of nature wild and whispers. When my hands are stiff enough to rub the colours as the liquid slides away the canvas, majestically the picture with pure written words have revealed.

“Both of you downstairs now”.

“Who’s coming, Mary Poppins?” I answered.

“Just follow-up you two”.

The smile of my friend are described as hidden grimaces of shocked and fear. Gladly, it was swift as time is a thief of hiding the map beneath the bed, trembling. We both went down stairs.

            His river of blood running with peaceful happiness inside is almost as synchronous on nature screams. When I came to him in this August the 16th, filling-up applications on black and white. We never knew how smart can we be? We never knew how smarter can we be that we were just given this oddly dull.

“What date is it today?” into his eyes.

“Beg, pardon?” he startled.

“Oh, apologize. 16th I think…”

 “Oh, how forbidden, it’s almost September since we’re here”. He fell silent.

My mind is racing with incredulous coasters of ideas and punches, if only I can save the world or annoy from it. How stupid am I. To be so selfish and unlikely, to be boring, and apathy.

“Hold, on… ain’t today your birthday?” I asked gracefully.

“Yes, today is my birthday, you remembered.”

There are no words than a heart of incredulous cycles of blood, sweat, and tears. As I manage my mind to focus on pure things besides love. Love, however, is the reason, on how I tend to focus on things. While looking away a little second, I brushed his skin too closer and applies a gentle touch on his face and planted a kiss on the side of his forehead. Never knew, we both smart kids going on a bright huge competition for Science Investigatories, while enjoying the moment on the touch of a dull paper.

“Happy Birthday”.

 I will always be there for you, know that as long as I’m here ‘till death no one will hurt you, I will always take care of you, my genius inventor, the most powerful of his time. Quite enough, brushing his hair makes my mind dim from the room of ideas into a blackout of thoughts about him. How lovely would China be?

            One night, while screaming high and low on the face of my professor, a bright red tomato threw his wisdom on me.

“No the place exists, you are completely wrong”. I trembled.

“If only you can prove me”.

The map is not worthy with your red paint expression, the look of yours are a devil deeper than Satan’s pit.

“Fine forget it”. I closed the book like there’s a fly on my hand. I turned.

  “Do you want to come with me Will?”

“Where?” He asked.

 “Adventure…”

“Do you even have the slightest chance that there will be pirates, and the dead chasing the treasure you want?”

            We both climbed the blacks of the walls now turned into shadow pits, swing on trees like the adventure just had begun and dropped on both feet with like lingering stunts on experienced times. Then run away deeply in the dark with the voice of a cannon waving on the land, thought crackers could start a festive but it was the shore tuning me. Run, run away, as Will and I have agreed to create this adventure with trust and courage.

            Caribbean stones are a sand and clay as the river flows green and clear. Will, whose heart beats not for him, but along the journey his thoughts of starvation rumbles around to only feast himself by my courage and determination to find the treasure lost from the piece of the pirate’s culture. The big book is as the size as almost as sincere and unusual physically that it already creates my dream, the big book is as the size of the cave with its picture as the lost entrance architecture. The river flows anywhere, snakes are changing skins behind the bottles of rum and rust of metals, a hook and a parrot with circus plays doing trapeze on a rocky feature. It look likes someone’s here already. When Will and I, have found the lost archaeological piece. A pistol is faced in 3 feet.

“Aye, what we got here! Dick, we got dogs!”

 “Aye, wha’ ye calling Dick? Eh, while am found the treasure, am Captain!”

“My apologies Captain Dick”.

I forged my steps forward as I swirl my mouth as an unexpected present during birthdays.

 “Pirate”…  

“Two birds lost flight. Where, oh where, the good old wings, eh?”

“What brought kids here”. Grimace and mocking Captain Dick.

 However… minutes later, a bomb was heard in the mouths of the cave, there were aliens of clean and blue. Shiny and white. They were in uniforms and silvers, they were in rings with blackish rifles pointer than their noses.

“I, Lord Dunkin, scavenger of the high seas, and the Lord in the Caribbean government”. “Seas here! Seas these rats around a precious treasure!” Lord Dunkin charges.

There is swashbuckling of rifles and rings of metal swords, when Captain Dick has finally laid his eyes on my map, he then questioned me what I wanted and push Will down the ground.

“Help, this man is bonkers!”

Lord Dunkin, halted his crew and laid his eyes on us, he realized my map and soon left us along with the pirates in which we cannot speak, we cannot move, we cannot fight, we cannot reason in this age, and if will be no one would believe and save us. We were left by the hands of the barbarians and curse you and your Lordly-like crews!

            I found hybridity of anger and resentment with these foul and funny dogs altogether in three years’ time. Under the heath of the green of the moon was ever unconventional compared to my Will’s dream. Brushing his soft black hair like the raven’s wings, sleeping peacefully on my lap. It was the great captain enjoying his candies inside the cabin of Queen Anne’s revenge while he fired a powdered pistol to his musicians on board, how stupid is he. Laughter burst out in the darkness and I planted a kiss on Will’s forehead and he chase along the rats of trombones with bigger guns.

“Captain, I here to report.”

“Wha’ is it, my fellow dog who lost his bone sooner you’ll die, why, do must it quick!”

“Lord Dunkin, makes the people sang, thieves, beggars, are all hanged”.

 His crewmate had sung, while the captain wasted his song on rum.

“Never knew, you are a poet as long as you living, get out o’here!”

I was startled by the midnight announcement while the moon turned evergreen and carefully I glanced every sides while the crewmates are zombified, while Will and I are already tangible ghosts, not to wake the only person I have now.

            The captain’s candies, in such time are a remarkable essence that they weren’t mutinies at all. They were hungry and mad, they were funny and sad, they were idiots and kings. But most of all they were merely having freedom.  There is nothing worst with them at all.

“Captain, is it true what I just heard?”

 Over the past few weeks, I’ve found kindness to treat the devils, these thieves are beggars if you live with them, know their stories and come along with journey together. With all the remains I have, we have, we have treated them food and entertainment. Living with prates define us dreamers of time and freemen.

“Yes, wee missy, soon, the bonkers old Dunkin, would get the brethren, and we will be hanged like there is no life happened to us”.

“No, it can’t be, we won’t let him.” I answered.

“He just took one of the pirate’s missing cultural piece, he have gone enough!” with bravery.

 “A devil will never stop preying even though he feasted himself enough but there will be always a space for more than thousands of souls”. Dick was wailing his teary eyed and clutch from behind his hook.

            “Captain, never must you quit! It is a dream of freedom, am I right?” “Yes, wee angel, but my time has come…”

The cannon was shot through the lips of Queen Anne’s Revenge, it was ambush and frightening, my soul has cowered, my soul was dead in seconds that I couldn’t move,

“Captain!”

 The great captain Dick is licking his blood and pounded his end in metals.

“You must save the crew and the rest on…. You, will be… captain”.

The great dog and fanged hook is gone. So, terribly gone. He was the luck than his parrot day and night. Now, he choked his own blood easier than his candies.

“You made me captain…”

            “Who is the captain in this ship!” cried an enemy.

 “Captain, (pointing at the necklace that symbolizes as captain of piracy) her!”

 “You! A young and beautiful wee lass”.

I pushed him from his fisted grip on my wrists with force and gradually I became powerful.

 “What have you done! I demand to speak with your Lordly Dunkin!”

“There is no right with that, young missy, soon the pirate brethren will be ours”.

“No!” I cried as drawn away.

 Suddenly, Will and the other crew members came with thousands of more vessels floating almost at the edge of the horizon, as the break of dawn came – the pirate Lords of Singapore, and China just arrived on time and chase the coward crews of the government away because those dogs just lost way of their bone.  

            “Dick is dead! He made me captain!”

“What are we going to do, this is sudden!” An ill from the captain of China.

“Run away and find a place for another voyage for piracy’s freedom.” Declared the captain of Singapore.

 “No! We must go to war! Protect the brethren”.

The brethren bombed a laughter of mockery while the sea is waving gradually graceful and blue, and out the vessels were afloat to drift as they were about to be doomed by cannons or run away where freedom is never again be defined for them. Will was screaming with the tides of halting one against one, with the idea of war and joined me as the wind passed my dark knight’s hair and numbed expression. After all this time, I thought you were the people, of both with bravery and kindness, the kind of people to achieve ones self as dreamers without ever power to hold you all back, but just bunch of drunken dogs ever to give-up? No, no, no, I’ll enlighten you…

“Listen to me! You will listen to me! To be a dreamer has no fear! To be a dreamer is to accept the rust in his blood scorned by cheap metals! We are born, because we are called by our fathers, to return what has been lost! And to show them, quit justice, quit peril! Let them show our freedom, and fight as freemen! To be a dreamer is stronger and let them know what we can do! Let them cower! Gentlemen, hoist the colours…”

I, Eva Rouelle, captain of Queen Anne’s Revenge, the swan necked people poor and happy with their lives will be protected. Will never face grim and which souls are to be full on the stomach on the sadist. The beggars, the pirates, and others lust in this century for freedom and adventure will, and always will, at the end of it fight the justice of living. And they will never have the palace or brethren where freedom’s home came.

“Aye, hoist the colours…” “Dogs! HOIST THE COLORS… HIGH!”

 The break of the dawn became bloodshed from the warm colour of the sunrise,

“Hoist the Colours!”

 My words are final and brave, my lover’s hand is cold and ghoul-like, each of us greatly held the sword in our dominant movements and became stronger and stronger, cannons uplifted like crackers which I thought by the time I ran with courage and determination, today is swashbuckling and never mention sea sickness, today is a warrior with grief not knowing blood, rain, or sweat is racing running down on my temples of my silky dusty dress of armour. The clouds grew red, the sun hides, it is where the tale where sailor’s sing: Red sky in morning, Sailor’s take warning. While, two of the crew members Mackenzie and Teddy hid on the foot of Queen Anne’s Revenge. Thought the rain will drop blood, but it was tears of sorrow as the sky took photography of us creating this revolution to end. Lord Dunkin came as I drew my sword on my left-hand, the only one who has the opposite dominant, cheered him with slash on the face and a tumble on the feet, as I stepped a little backward hovering uncertainly as my arm is ripped and the red river flows and I began stumbling backwards. William set forth and drew his right-handed sword of rust,

“Aaah, love.”

 Lord Dunkin trembles as I awoke from the bumped of the woods of the great enemy ship, together our swords have ringed and only then William attacked then the Lord discerns at the back almost frightened and confused, he almost stabbed me as my sword slipped down the sea

“End of the line”

“No, a warrior just begun her battles”.

William fired the pistol with one hand and a single bullet, directly into his devil now dying heart.

Rum and loads of rum were being used to exploit the riches of the ship, being sunken with its Lord. The crewmates and the brethren rejoice while bathing bloodshed, and colours of flags the jolly-rogers stayed nationally higher than the clouds. Proud, sicken, powerful, brave, and adventurous.

“Will?... Do you think it’s time to go home?”

“Eva… yes”.

Sadly, the brethren and the Queen Anne’s Revenge bursts into tears and kneels.

“Gentlemen, we were only captured and fed for years, there is only one thing where there is still a way to save and change the world. We cannot held to be pirates forever, but a dream is a dream, you all are the pirates, while we create a new brave world as we share our gifts to the people.”

 His hand is soft and kissable, he has the hold of a fisted grip and the hug for a new born, his is a hero who saved me, and I as too save him…

“The canoe is ready Eva and Will, the oars are inside, you both are free”. As Mackenzie bursts into tears. “Thank you…”

Years later, the sea is silent and the waves are still. He read me a-more-than-a-hundred history pages of “Sucesos de las islas Filipinas by Antonio de Morga 1609” while brushing the sand and pour it in my hair, he became the person I helped him become, from being poor and sad and no motivation before me. The smile and wit now uncaged by the day I planted a kiss while wishing him a happy birthday, our dreams yet delayed, but never will be stopped as we helped each other with science and technology, we created the brave new world. But no braver as I am proud that I helped a person to become a hero that he deserves to be, treating his dyslexia, and became the leader literate and has a gift to create as I described to it “a millennial skill”. Where we came from are precious Filipino gifts, more than ever prouder taken our name and our country by the tales while we venture across the world.

As I too saved him, from being patient and trust him to do that he can do it with courage, why, by my gift of words to announce my story: “Each and everyone of us is a hero inside”. Only you yourself can figure it out, the timeline of your entire life has heroism in between. Whether at the end it only passed or it became some legend.

    - Moral-

            Heroism is defined in different ways by qualities of characteristics of being brave, determined, patient, humble, helper, kindness, fight for love, fight for a dream, unselfish, etc. To stand against what’s stopping you from your dream and even from everyone else’s you do it for them. With a brave heart, helping a single person is already considered as well, a hero to him or her. Just as the mass fighting with battles for revolution that you change his or her or their world. Poverty of mass of thieves and beggars are not as devilish and doesn’t deserved to be treated ill, they are people who longed for living and the government only wants power to rule and sweep away the useless livings. The punishments before were massacres never quite imagined by millenials today. We all have dreams to stop a war, we all have dreams to achieve this single thing as we became the person we longed to be, we all have dreams in different ways beyond our limitation. With courage and kindness, we are warriors that the humans we are in creation.