Lonely Pirate

For miles ahead the landscape is pitch dark. This darkness is a mockery of night time, where the moon creates a spotlight and the stars can dance. But light is completely voided here. Things here are blocked off of the most reliable feature a person assumes they can have, vision. There is no difference between closing my eyes or opening them, but for some reason I feel safer keeping them open. When your vision is restricted it gives your mind room to paint in what it wants, that's when fear and dreams wonder about most vividly.

Although, the lands and oceans we pirates travel are not to blame, it is the fragility of the mind that feebly writes its own stories. Our spirits are victims to the shackles we lay upon ourselves in the fears we create. Many of my friends have already fallen victim to the mind games of these lands, drifted off track to never be found again. Yet, I cannot give into the guilt of dragging them with me on this absurd journey. I do fear the lack of presence of someone with me will drive me into further insanity. However, nonetheless, I tread forward, through what I've decided are vines and roots escaping the ground trying to enclose me.

My mind has never felt so busy and tears pang my eyes as I think of the bright faces that followed me in admiration. I miss the cheeky voices that constantly screamed, “Captain Jasper! What is today's adventure!” My foolish pride has led me to complete darkness, as if it's telling me to reflect on myself. The silence of the dark always has a knack for drawing out thoughts, I bitterly scoff. Even still my pride haunts me, as it forces me to go on.

I search the land solely for what I've sailed out to seek, everything a pirate dreams, the fabled grandiose treasure. There are only few crazy enough to set foot into the dark realm, and take such a risk. Only a fool will give into the maddening darkness, and allow their greed to best them. Under my muttered breath, the sound of my own voice keeps me from insanity inside a landscape of the unknown. I try to keep myself occupied with the counting of my steps and estimations towards my goal. I do not allow my other senses to succumb into my nightmarish imagination.

I count, "1015, 1016, 1017…."

The supplies I have are limited, but my shovel strangely has become part of my solstice. My shovel is at my side bumping against my thigh keeping my mind in the material world. I take a drag from my waterskin, cooling myself down. I wish I had someone to talk to. Venturing these lands in solitude keeps me only aware of my thoughts. However, my fascination towards omnipotence and riches keeps me from turning around in cowardice.

Visages still manage to haunt me, as the lands are calling me in trying to sink me into the ground. There are ghost sensations that make me shiver, I can only be suspicious of my own five senses. Not wanting to doubt that something might roam around me in the void. My nerves escaping my mind out in the open, leaving me shameful even though there could be no audience to ever perceive in these grounds. At least I hope. I stop still, shake my head, I cannot allow myself to slip into fright. Quickening my pace, I start to comfort myself in what lies at the end of my destination. Imagining what sort of prize I will receive, thoughts filled with, “Maybe, I will get wealth unknown to the world. Then become the mightiest to ever live, the legend to have conquered the sinister phenomena of the lands called 'The Gloom.'" Today's treasure hunt is the most risky I have ever done. I have been slowly driving into my demise, as my fear seeps past my rational mind no matter what. Sensations of a spider climbing around my heart and chains holding my bones down. I can only pretend I don’t feel my unease, as I continue to count my steps.

After some time, just when I was starting to feel numb to my voice marking my steps, I hear something in the distance. My heart drops, a beautiful sound almost like a song, but a nightmare to my ears. A sound not from myself is rather horrifying in the darkness, leaving imagination to its deepest imagery of only danger.

Then yet again, a beautiful voice echoes in my ears even as I start to cover them tightly. My heart pangs as I'm trying not to be enticed for the longing of the presence of someone else. Maybe just someone to stand by would settle my fears.

"Don't reach out," is all I can mutter to myself. I cannot trust something so melodic and gentle where horror thrives.

I feel a pat on my shoulder, in a frenzy, I quickly turn around to be greeted with the usual sight of nothing. I can feel my back slick with sweat. The normally soothing touch is unnerving under the presence of nothing.

The course was already set, but now the temptation to run to the comfort of the soft song, the beautiful lullaby is stronger. I focus on the mental image of the map I memorized before going on, into the absolute darkness. I focus on my vow to find the hidden magnificent treasures claimed to be concealed here. Now counting in my head, afraid to even try to get my voice past the lock of fear I placed in my throat.

Surging forward solely on my will, convincing myself the ocean should be much more dreadful to witness as a pirate, than the sight seen everytime our eyes are shut. The places where dreams live. The empty canvas filling my sight is a space for the painting of my mind on display, my mind that keeps wanting to slip into irrational fear.

"1380, 1381, 1382, 1383, 1384…," I cling my mind onto still.

A bit of relief is eminent when I realize the destination is near, but numbers and images in my mind hold no justice over the unreliability of the imperfections our mind can hold. Anything could've set me off trail I fear.

In my quickened pace, I feel the tension slip. "This is the spot," I whisper as I come to an abrupt stop. I stumble, hands out feeling for the ground, for the shovel I have with me. Starting to dig down.

I bury my way, down, down, down. I have no idea how long I dig for when finally I feel my shovel collide with something solid. I cannot help the euphoria that fills my whole body. When I manage to pull out the treasure box, I feel around trying to figure out how to open it.

You've heard of Pandora box, when curiosity bested Pandora, she opened the box and she was only greeted with evil.

Something so sinister could be expected on these grounds where nightmares are a speciality.

After I break the lock off, I stick my hand inside with excitement. Dread instantly fills me.

"How utterly foolish!" I exclaim. Delusions must always come in hand with greed. The betrayal of my own absurdly unreasonable aspiration, feels like the emptiness that comes after the snake poison sinks.

A bitterness left my gullibility, but everyone always falls victim to fantasy, I think. My eyes catch from the corner of my eye, a beautiful siren, outlined in a majestic green light. Her melody bellows over the new found silence like a mockery.

The treasure box, the treasure said to have lived on the most fearsome lands in all of earth in which everyone told me to avoid. The place I dragged over 40 people with me into, for my own fulfillment the destination led me to only an empty box. I cannot even find comfort from green glow that illuminates the dark.