WORD COUNT TO REACH IS 450.
Pick one from each list to make a creature/animal combination and write a scene in which this creature appears.
|List 1||List 2|
A salty sea spray washed across Jeremiah’s face. He blinked it away, but couldn’t do much else in his current…compromised position. Behind him a crew of sun-baked seadogs smirked as the ship’s first mate held Jeremiah precariously over the edge of the ship, letting him teeter just on the edge of balance.
“You guys could stand to clean a litle better,” Jeremiah grunted as his face was forced closer and closer to the salt-crusted planks of the ship’s exterior. “She’s looking pretty rough down here.”
In thanks the first mate shoved him harder against the rail. Jeremiah grinned through gritted teeth.
“You can beat me against this ship until my ribs break, my fish-eaten friend. But you and your crew sunk my ship and imprisoned my men. I’ll not be telling you anything.”
Jeremiah’s captor pulled him back without warning and threw him down on the deck.
“Ye’ll talk, and ye’ll talk soon, or m’name ain’t Bloodbath McGee,” said the first mate, a giant of a man with a greasy, black beard that lay in scraggly ropes against his chest. Yellow sweat stains seeped from his armpits, adding to his excessive charm.
Jeremiah quirked his head, eyebrows raised. “Is your name Bloodbath McGee?”
Bloodbath opened his mouth to roar a fearful response, and paused, looking confused.
“Well, no. It’s Errol. But people call me Bloodbath, or I break their arms off.”
“Ah,” Jeremiah nodded with the utmost respect. “A pleasure to meet you, Bloodbath.”
Bloodbath shrugged back his shoulders impressively.
Somewhere behind the scumfold of pirates that gathered to watch his torture, Jeremiah heard the significant slam of a door—the door to the captain’s cabin. At the sound the men began to scuttle away like spiders, hurrying to their stations. Only a handful remained, looking full of trepidation but unsure whether it would be worse to stay or to go. Bloodbath alone looked confident with standing in his place, hovering over Jeremiah like a girthy, sweaty bird of prey and blocking Jeremiah’s view of the captain’s quarters. But even the massive first mate gave himself away. His eyes widened like a goldfish’s, and his sausagey fingers trembled.
Jeremiah heard the approaching steps of the captain moving across the deck. They were strange, and sharp, and too fast.
Understanding began to wash through Jeremiah like a glacial tide, freezing his blood in his veins. He thought frantically through the events of the last several hours. Were there clues that could have alerted him to the danger? Had he seen the telltale flag as it heralded its captain? If he had only paid attention… if he had only thought….
Dread hung heavy in his throat as Jeremiah raised his eyes, looking beyond Bloodbath’s hulking form, beyond the criss-crossing ropes and pulleys, beyond it all, until his eyes focused on the black flag, snapping above him in a strong eastern wind. Time seemed to slow to a sickening crawl as he watched the flag unfurl, revealing, at long last, the only image Jeremiah would fear to see.
“The Black Goat,” Jeremiah said. The words seethed from his throat in a horrified moan.
“Yaa-aa-aa–aarrr.” Captain Goatbeard clopped into view. His eerie rectangular pupils gleamed, and Jeremiah knew he had already lost.