There was the sound of muffled cursing, crude and revealing, breaking through the heavy night. The sound of muffled cursing, quickly followed by the gentle, crunching thud of meat, muscle and bone slammed into more meat, muscle and bone.
There was a hiss, a sharp intake of breath. The Captain, making it known that she was unimpressed, counting the seconds between the element of surprise and the measurements of failure. Silence was what was called for. They should have known better.
There was the hidden echo of meat, muscle and bone collapsing, the chattering clatter of a table and chairs. A second, cracking thud of leather and iron, of boots against a shattering jaw. The vicious, savage kiss of steel, carved across a windpipe – straining, struggling, yielding.
The gargle was answered by the whispered shriek of a sword drawn slowly, threateningly, from its scabbard. The shadowy, primitive retort of a pistol, smothered by the snapping, cracking canvas overhead, the patter of blood against oak, and the fighting began in earnest.
The great bell clanged out, its brass voice the call of the gods of war.
Just a snippet from a long short story I’m working on…a PIRATE story! It works as a stand-alone flash, right? I smuggled in Trifecta’s prompt CRUDE (marked by the primitive, gross, or elemental or by uncultivated simplicity or vulgarity) and one of the BeKindRewrite prompts, Counting Seconds. Let me know what you think, comments and criticism always welcome!