The Bone Keeper.

They used to tell stories of the great ships that traversed the seas, living without the need for land, traveling whichever way the wind would blow. One such ship still exists, thriving despite all odds, its crew bound to the ocean itself in ways unfathomable to the common folk. The Painted Lady is an impressive vessel; it cuts through even the stormiest of weather with only minimum difficulty. Never has it been seen docked and its crew knows no boundaries in the world's waters. At its prow sits a figurehead of unimaginable beauty, for which the ship was named. A female spirit carved from the finest wood with designs marking a heavenly face in deep blues, rich greens, and bright yellows that never seem susceptible to fading or chipping. Precious jewels adorn her wooden body, showcasing the wealth of this particular vessel. The ship flies its colors with pride bordering on vanity, without fear of the various governments that do not take kindly to piracy. Of course, this ship's captain only flies the flag of red, so that all know the pirates on board will give no quarter should they catch you sailing in their seas.
Evangeline Drake is a woman shrouded in mystery. No one knows how she came to be a pirate captain, no one is even sure of her place of origin. She stands only barely over five feet, with eyes the color of the Caribbean ocean, and long sandy hair that no comb or braid could possibly tame. Her face is always concealed behind an intricately decorated mask, made much in the same vein as the figurehead. Evangeline does not speak, whether this is because she is unable or because she chooses not to remains also unknown. Her lack of height is greatly made up for in her fierce silence and her quick temper. She'd sooner pull a gun on a man than hear a compliant. No one knows exactly how she became a pirate, but none dare question it.

Something scampers across the decks, moving through the long shadows of the great ship Painted Lady. A small silhouette stretches itself across the wall leading to the galley; its shadow is feline in nature yet, is disrupted by tufts of great feathers. The creature stalks, moving between guns and barrels without a single sound. Crew members go about their work, the deck below is only lit by lantern, yet the sun above is quickly moving in the sky, threatening the call for lights out before the crew has completed their day’s work. The creature moves without detection, sometimes going so far as to weave it’s lithe body in between the feet of an unsuspecting passersby. A sound is made, high-pitched and only apparent to the little creature; it perks its feathered ears to the call. It moves now with purpose, seeking open space. It crawls from below deck, before unfurling its black wings and flying toward the source of the call.

In the dying sun, the creature’s appearance is revealed. It has the face of a sea hawk with a streak of black accenting its amber colored eyes. Its neck is covered in fine white feathers, leading down to its forelegs which are scaled black talons in the same vein as a sea hawk, yet its hind quarters are that of small wild cat. It’s tawny brown and black spots shine against the white feathers in the setting sun as it flies toward its master. Its call, a harmonious cross between a purr, mewl, and a bird's song, fills the open air, alerting the crew below of its presence. Some glance, others are already used to the Captain's pet.

The gryphon sets itself upon the wispy shoulder of its master. The Captain stands at the prow of the ship, looking outward into the deep blue. Her jewel encrusted mask conceals all but her eyes; the white porcelain skin is without mark, only intricately painted designs. The wind blows past them both; the gryphon steadies itself on her shoulder, wrapping a long feline tail around her delicate neck.

The sun is at their backs, casting a glow over their intended direction. A lonely island sits ahead of them, just in the distance. The gryphon switches shoulders, realizing their placement; it c***s its avian head to the side. They would arrive by nightfall. The crew suddenly seems so solemn. They have come to their dying place. The times of the pirates have past, leading the Painted Lady on it's very last voyage. Beyond them sits the worst of the Siren Isles. The Bone Keeper awaits.

Evangeline carefully displaces her pet from her shoulder; she pets the strange creature as she cradles it. Using her free hand she moves her mask only slightly from her face, enough to allow speech. A tiny glimpse of her scarred face is shown, her damaged and dry lips showcased only to her little friend. Despite being a small creature, the gryphon's intellect far succeeds its size, its amber eyes watch the woman carefully.

“Go. You have no place dying with the dammed.” her words are coarse from years of silence, her voice gruff with emotion and a life lived in hardship. The tiny creature in her arms twists itself to where it can see her. There are few places for a creature of its kind in this modern world, but it is an animal of survival, of nature and the earth itself. Life goes on. It unfurls its wings and flies toward the sun. Evangeline stares after the gryphon, mildly wondering if it's returning to the sun itself, wishing to herself that she could fly away as well.

They make it to the island within hours. The crew has dwindled from its previous numbers, only the original crew remains, those pledged to the Painted Lady and to Evangeline herself. Those damned like her. They drive the ship onto the beach of the island without care for damage; no one will be leaving either way. The Captain silently directs the crew to pull the figurehead from the ship; they do so with loving care, gently prying her wooden frame from their ship. Her eyes stare into forever, her smiling face now seems like a beautiful wound within the hearts of all tied to her.
There's an old superstition that beautiful water spirits live inside the figureheads of ships, protecting the crew from storms, disease, and conflict. It's said that should the ship ever sink, the spirit will release itself from the figurehead to save the ship's crew from drowning. Evangeline knows that no water spirit resides in their figurehead. No, it's something far more sinister than that. The soul of an adulterer.

The crew walks from the beach into the dense forest of the uninhabited island; the Captain leads them, called by a force no human should ever know. Silence surrounds them, the crew's half masks glitter in the moonlight. Four men carry the weight of the figurehead. Evangeline knows them to be condemned; the only people of her trusted crew are those that can never be redeemed. Murderers, rapists, and heretics. No one could save their souls, so she put the already damned to work. She walks down no path, letting the branches and thick foliage cut at her skin, she knows she deserves it. She thinks to her life, the events that led her to this point, to the Bone Keeper.

She was a simple girl at one point, in a far simpler world. It seems that such things were centuries ago, perhaps they were. Time gets muddled when you don't age. Evangeline was the daughter to a baker, she still remembers that, although she can't remember the face of her father or what her mother’s voice sounded like. She can't remember just how many siblings she had, but she's sure there were at least four. She was still young when a man of a higher social standing took interest in her, old enough to marry, but still young. He spoke such pretty words, made her feel like something more…she can’t remember the exact feeling, but she knew it was important at the time. He was already married, she knew it was wrong, but at the time, God…or something compelled her to follow through. They were found out eventually, as all sinners are. She remembers the horror.

They dragged her from her bedroom at the witching hour. Her parents were outraged, but when confronted with the news of her adultery, they dared not fight the officials. Sin so blatant was not tolerated in her town of origin. They dragged her by her golden blond hair into the town center, her screams and pleas for forgiveness, for mercy awoke the town. They made an example of her that night, burning her face, cutting her body. The man that had so tempted her stood, watching the entire scene, declaring her devil-drawn ways before the crowd. They left her scarred and broken, throwing her exhausted linen-wrapped body out to sea when the sun finally arose. The saltwater stung her new wounds, swirling around her, but even in its peace, she thrashed for air and life.

She was brought to this very island that day, unconscious on its beach until night returned once again. She walked this very path that night, carrying her broken body toward the only thing that called to her. The pain is the easiest thing to remember, despite all the years that have past, she still remembers walking on broken legs, feelings branches and thorny bushes scratching across her burnt flesh. She was alone then. Now, she holds onto the souls of many. All doomed just as her. The men behind her move with purpose, perhaps drawn like her to their dying place. She wonders who fears it, wonders who has been waiting for such a night.

They come to a clearing; she stops in the presence of their graveyard. The Bone Keeper’s hut is made of hide and bone, the very same as it was all those years ago. Bones and gore are littered around his home; creatures of blood-lust stare from the shadows, awaiting the death of their new dinner. Their red eyes lock with Evangeline, each nods only slightly, and returns to the darkness of the island. The Bone Keeper has been waiting for them, she can feel it in her blood. She motions for the men to lay the figurehead upon the sand surrounding his hut. Nothing green grows close to the bringer of such death.

She remembers this night, the night she died for the first time. She stood in front of this hut and felt no fear, her ripped dress marking her closer to naked than clothed. Something compelled her to move the heavy hide aside, to enter the hut. A man sat in the middle of the hut, as he does today, awaiting her arrival. She vaguely remembers wondering if he was the Devil himself, perhaps he is. His body is pitch black, designs of white mark his skin, matching his blank white eyes. He wears scraps of hide, with his face hidden behind a wooden tribal mask, completely unlike her delicate porcelain one.

She stands in front of him now, her men sit outside the hut, awaiting their damnation. She had warned them all that this day would come, however immortality of any kind, even the temporary variety, is too tempting an offer to pass up. She moves to sit before the man as she had once before. This time, however, she is returning his gift and not receiving it. He watches her with his endless eyes.

“Child, I see you have heard my call. In truth, I was afraid that you would fight it.” he spoke in a gruff accent, his mask bobbing slightly with speech. Evangeline removes her mask, revealing her destroyed face, her bright blue eyes stare at the man in defiance. She stretches her ruined mouth into a scowling smile.

“I knew this day would come,” her voice seems so small in the bone and hide hut. “I would not fight it; I know the power that you possess. Fighting the inevitable has no purpose here.” The Bone Keeper laughs loudly, drawing his wooden staff to allow himself to stand before her. She remains seated, turning her damaged face toward him.

“No purpose in fighting the inevitable? Tell me Child, when you came here and you asked for power, were you not fighting the inevitable? When you turned over your soul for a ship, for the ability to take from others what they had taken from you, were you not fighting the inevitable? You have done work in my name, and for this I am grateful, but make no mistake, this entire time you have been fighting the inevitable.”

Evangeline sat there silently, staring into the eyes of the man that had killed her, that had brought life back into her. She felt nothing toward him, not anger, nor fear, and certainly no hint of love. She felt nothing. She had felt nothing since the day she died. Silently, to herself, she wondered if this was better or worse. She had traded her soul to cause shipwrecks, to take from the same people that had taken from her. She was no better than the men that burned her, that cut into her, that tossed her from that cliff into the sea. Funny how cruelty only begets more cruelty.

“I have come to your call. My time in supremacy has ended. I have brought souls to you, fifty times over what I originally pledged. I am not afraid to die, nor do I welcome it. However, a deal is a deal.” Her voice did not quiver, although somewhere in the figurehead, she felt a violent shake run through her soul. The man before her smiles faintly, something she is not able to see, but able to feel. Screams erupt outside; her men are being slaughtered by the creatures of darkness under the control of the Bone Keeper. The sounds of ripping flesh and breaking bone echoes throughout the night. Evangeline owns their souls; they will not die until the Bone Keeper has taken her soul for himself. She watches him, feeling nothing as always. Carnage is all the Bone Keeper asks for his gift of temporary immortality. Outside, amidst the carnage, the figurehead begins to weep.

The man circles his fire pit, and lays fingers upon the forehead of the ruined woman before him. She closes her eyes as he runs his fingers down her face. She remember the smell of the ocean, the masks of every one of her damned crew members, she remembers the sound of her little gryphon friend. She breathes in the scent of death and damnation as he pushes his fingers into her eye sockets. She remembers the pain she’s endured, she doesn’t scream when he removes his fingers from her destroyed eyes and moves to push through her chest, seeking her heart. She remembers the people she’s killed and makes no sound as he moves past ribs to rip her heart from its cage. She thinks back to the first fishing village she burned to the ground, thinks about the family she massacred, about the only man she left alive, far more ruined than she ever had been. The Bone Keeper takes no pleasure from the dying woman, who won’t scream, who won’t cry. Evangeline sits there as he destroys her, taking her apart piece by piece. She’s endured so much pain, and lived for so long without really feeling, that she breathes in the agony.

Something akin to a frustrated growl exits the mouth of the Bone Keeper as he sets both of his hands on either side of her face. Evangeline knows what’s coming next, the men outside are still screaming, still alive enough to feel every fang and claw tear through them. She smiles with a ruined mouth and stares at the Bone Keeper with black holes for eyes.

“We were brought to life by the Devil, and by the Devil we must die.” Partly in rage, partly in ritual the Bone Keeper twists the wretched woman’s head completely off. The screams outside die instantly, a jagged crack runs straight through the figurehead, releasing Evangeline’s soul out into the world. The Bone Keeper shakes in anger. The silence is stifling. The woman’s soul moves with purpose, far away from the island, far away from everything. An angered scream fills the island. Despite the carnage, the Bone Keeper has lost this battle, and his trophy.
Evangeline flies toward the sun.

Reviews

[Marie]

This is a truly compelling story I loved your description of the figurehead and how it released Evangeline's soul.
I proofread and caught a couple of possible errors:


(wounds, swirling around her, but even in its peace, she trashed{thrashed} for air and life)
(the gryphon's intellect far succeeds it's{its} size, it's{its} amber eyes watch the woman carefully.)
(I know the power that you process{possess})