A foul smell fills my nose. My putrid and purulent hands palpate. My face bears the marks of Mami Wata's hands. Crew, debriefing. Cursed we are. Damned we are. Alive we are. Dead we are. Now we are the undead crew. The abyss is our paradise. We sail such corpses to swallow your insipid souls.
Our bodies rot at the pace of the waves. To survive, we must devour the living.
The fresh flesh is calling us, like blood to sharks. A boat appears through the haze. We are hungry. Un leash hell. Screams are exhilarating. These people are shredded.
Your souls are now ours. I'm in the captain's cabin. He stares at me, frightened and yells "oh my god". I'm no god. His pure soul was succulent. I walk through puddles of blood. What a feast on the deck. The screams of casualty become scarce. I'm still fucking starving. By my hands, I spread a ribcage to find a beating heart, plagued by a pirate's life. My teeth lovingly plunge into this offering. The blood running down my arms. Such a perfect flavor
I want more.
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