Lilac Colored Glasses

So here’s a short story I wrote for a contest a year or so ago. It started with an elimination round where entrants submitted a single sentence or Bulwer Lyttony. Those who went on to the next round were assigned a random sentence that had been written by another entrant and they had to write a short story with it (so in other words, the first sentence here was not written by me, rather, I received it and had to write a short story using it as my first sentence). The top six short story writers went on to write novellas based on someone else’s short story. This piece was tied for sixth place, but due to how the host of the contest chose to evaluate point totals, it was the one that was eliminated. I haven’t really edited it since then, but I’ve been thinking of polishing it and submitting it. And who better to read it and offer advise first than my lovely, lovely following

Into the Black
Moonlight sparkled from the waves that rippled around a small sloop swaying gently at anchor in a quiet, peaceful harbor… a peace that was broken by the metallic sound of swords being drawn, the shattering of a cabin door, and the roar of a gloating voice shouting, “Ye’ll not take another cargo from me, Garrison, ye thievin’ bilge rat!”
The ruddy young man leapt from the chair in which he was slumbering and reached for his rapier, only to find the scabbard empty. He drew his pistol and raised it level with the swarthy, scarred face leering at him through the splintered door. His heart sank as brackish water trickled down from the barrel and wet his shaking hands. Defeated, Garrison let the gun clatter to the floorboards.
“Farrell,” he murmured, bowing his fair head and raising his hands in surrender. Captain Farrell stepped over the threshold and raised his sword to the young man’s throat.
“That’s my gold ye be counting whelp,” he growled as he swept a pile of doubloons into a pouch at his waist. “High’s the price far dipping year hand in his Majesty’s royal coffer,” Farrell continued, “I’ll be takin’ what’s mine, and the rest of yer cargo, as payment to my guards.”
Garrison’s eyes flashed as he glared into Farrell’s face. He’d targeted Farrell’s caravan. The notorious captain of the King’s navy made a habit of unofficial privateering, and everyone knew his spoils were never seen by his Majesty, or any of the citizens of Britain. No harm would come from distributing some of Farrell’s ill-earned wealth amongst the starving rabble from which Garrison had come. Or so he had thought. Amidst Farrell’s badgering and the clamor of the swords and screams from his men being slaughtered on deck, Garrison’s mind flew through his plan, searching for the fatal error.
He smelled the lilac perfume before he saw her face. A smell so familiar, that stirred within him all the passion and desire that he had shared with her in his quarters mere hours before. She materialized in the doorway, a hard-bitten smile on her flawless face; Jenny, his own beloved Jenny, was dangling his rapier from a hooked finger.
“Sebastian,” she crooned, batting her crystal blue eyes at Garrison, “it was quite a trick, don’t you think? Having my messenger intercept Captain Farrell just after your little theft? And I ’m quite thankful love, that you sleep so soundly. ’Twas hardly a challenge, really. A man should be more careful with his prized weaponry.”
Garrison blanched. He shook his head, dumbfounded by this treachery. Jenny giggled and moved towards Farrell.
“Come now Sebastian, a woman should be treated properly. You’d repay all of my affections by robbing the richest Captain on the Spanish Main and then dispersing the wealth to a mob of street filth? That’s not going to keep a woman happy for very long now is it?”
Farrell placed a tar stained hand on Jenny’s waist and tugged her towards him. Curling a lip to reveal stained yellow teeth he snarled, “That’s right, pup, and trust me, yer lady has earned her keep,” and he slid a piece of eight into Jenny’s corset.
Roaring, Garrison lunged and Farrell struck him with the hilt of his sword. Garrison fell to the floor, his shallow breath rippling the pool of blood spreading beneath him.
Read more…