Skip to main content


Showing posts from April, 2015
         Back aboard the Windy Biscuit, Declan was giving orders to the crew.  They were preparing to leave the end of the world; perhaps make for more hospitable places.  No one really knew, but the eagerness to move on from this adventure was palpable.  Like overripe fruit,  the mens’ spirits hung low; but no one felt lower than their young captain. 
“The lads are ready master,” Balric said as he approached Declan wearing his trademark satchel and backpack.
“Excellent Balric.  It’s past time we cast off and left this miserable place,” Declan said with a sigh.
“Where are we bound sir?”
“I don’t know yet,” Declan replied.  “Home, I suppose.  Not much point in sailing the globe aimlessly, is there?”
“No sir,” Balric agreed.
“I’m tired Balric.  For the four hundredth time on this quest, I know I shouldn’t give up.  But for the first time, I just don’t know if I can go on.”
“I don’t blame you.  You’ve no direction.  Which is why I made you this,” Balric…
         The ferryman’s pole rocked back and forth in his hand, its other end already in the water, when Declan and Balric bounded onto the dock.  His back was to them, and he was poised to launch.   “Hold!” Declan shouted. The pilot turned to face them.  “Well now, just in the nick’o time.  I was leavin this place…an the two of ya woulda been stranded.” “We’re back,” Balric gasped out.  It was all he could muster between heavy breaths.   “And how did ya enjoy Saltana?” the ferryman asked with a tone that belied an impish mirth. “We got what we came for,” Declan replied.  “We’re both still alive.  That’s all that matters.” “Indeed ya are, boyo.  Very impressive.  I haven’t seen one livin soul survive this land in three hundred years.  I’ve never seen two make it out,” the pilot said. “Well, we’re made of a different stock than the fellows you’re used to dealing with.  Heartier.  Meatier.  More seasoned in the face of death,” Declan panted proud…