The Pirate's Revenge

1-The Beginning

I shot awake with a start. The sheets on my bed fell down around my waist, damp from sweat. My hair tumbled around my shoulders, sticking to the back of my neck. According to my clock it was only 9 am, but the tropical heat had already permeated into my room.

The bay window had both windows wide open from last night, and I could hear the bustling of the port already. Slowing down my breathing, I threw the rest of the cotton sheets to the end of the bed. I never slept well. But it seemed like the nights that I did were ravaged by dreams that kept me awake for nights to come.

I rose from bed slowly, touching my feet to the warm stone floor and stretching before making my way to the wooden bureau that held my clothes. My younger sister had ladies to help her, but I had asked mine not to wake me or dress me in the morning. Downstairs, I knew that Arista, my junior by ten years, would be wide awake, asking to be taken to the docks down by my fathers port. Richard, my older brother by six years would be at father's boats, helping out with the business that he and his twin, Christopher, would inevitable take over one day. Father could be anywhere in Port Smith. They would have all risen hours ago.

I pulled a dress from the drawers, and removed my night gown. I dressed myself without a corset, which would cause my governess all kinds of anger. But today was going to be sweltering, and the dress alone was hot enough.

I peered at myself on the mirror mounted on the bureau. Average height, round face, and basic green eyes. My hair was tangled, but I let the brown locks be. My hair was already sticking to my neck, making my appearance messier. I looked away and pulled the dress on over me before walking over and shutting the windows to keep the humidity out. My room, being in the corner of the house had high ceilings, which I swore only added to the heat. It made it darker, too. I turned, and watched a moth fly out of the thin netting that draped around my bed. It seemed fitting for some reason. Exhaling, and barefoot, I made my way to my door.

Today would be like any other. Hot. Dull. Angry.

Breakfast was always ready when I reqested it, but I didn't feel like eating. I had commitments today, though. So I made my way out of my room, to the wooden staircase directly outside my door.

My room was at the top of the steps, making it the only room on the third floor of the house. I liked it secluded, though, it meant people had to go out of their way to get to me. Id moved up there as a young teenager. It also had a stone balcony that overlooked a sea cliff, all the way down to the glowing blue Atlantic Ocean.

The staircase was carpeted, but the walls were bare minus the lamps that were never lit. In all my days of coming up to my room late, I had learned to climb the stairs in the dark.

I decended the steps to the main hallway, but only got halfway down before Missy stopped me, my governess.

"Callista!" she said, grabbing my arm. I spun to a stop.

"Good morning, Missy." I said, trying to push ahead. Her grip tightened. Missy was in her late fifties. A bigger woman with hair down to her hips that she always kept in a tight braid behind her back. She was dressed commonly, and never wore anyting but those type of clothes no matter the occasion. She aged quicker than someone her age, and looked older than she was. She has been working in the house for as long as I could remember. She didn't have any children, or a husband. So I sort of fell into that category for her. She lived in the house, too, on the bottom floor with all of the other servants.