A Paradise promised

A light-hearted fantasy short story. A bit of romance and pirate-ish fun.

I must apologise to you, dear readers. There will be no chapter of The Last Daughter of Dragons today. One of the reasons - an unplanned family road trip. Yep, not only me, my whole family is nuts. Another reason is this quirk of mine. When a story comes to its last chapters, I need a pause. It’s a tiny writer’s block. But usually I get over it.

So instead I’m giving you a romantic fantasy adventure; an unpublished short story I wrote for a lit mag months ago. The theme was “paradise plundered”. Of course, the story got rejected. Now I see why - it’s just a fun little story, nothing profound or serious. So, if you’re up for a fun adventure on a southern island, give it a read!

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“Alive! I’m alive, thank Heavens, I’m alive!” He kept repeating, whilst crawling out of the water on his stomach, barely dragging his exhausted limbs. He never should’ve stepped on that brigand ship, smugglers or not, but those were not men of honour!

“Not enough provisions for everybody,” they had said. What kind of sailors don’t plan their supplies beforehand? But in truth, they really did not plan Giacomo’s presence on their ship. Oh, how he had begged to be allowed onboard! He was in a hurry. How could he not be? A paradise was promised to him! A work position as a dance tutor to five young daughters of a Governor in a southern kingdom overseas. And as soon as possible, before the new ball season would begin. The Governor wanted all his daughters to be perfect dancers on their first night as debutants.

Giacomo was the best. The best dancer and the best tutor, a man of honour, a strict teacher, handsome, courteous, adored in every court he visited. He had a stellar career for his young age, and his beautiful face and immaculate manners opened all the doors to him. But this work offer would’ve been the peak of his life - the southern courts were known as wondrous places of wealth and magic.

How could he had not hurried to live in paradise? Little did Giacomo know; it would soon become a salt-water-hell. He should’ve comprehended what their snarky grins meant, when they took the last of his money, only to announce, “not enough food, we’re not feeding a good-for-nothing man on the ship, so long matey!” a few weeks into their journey. The foul brigands threw him overboard near a small island, just like that!

Giacomo wasn’t a good swimmer, but he was forced to make the distance to the island. Luckily, the brigands were sensible enough to throw a large plank of wood for Giacomo to hold on to.

“Watch out for the sharks!” They had yelled laughing.

Poor Giacomo kicked his feet as fast as he could, until finally he crawled out of the sea, his salty mouth full of sand, his limbs pulsing from exhaustion. He rolled on his back and wailed and yelled his heart out; after all, Giacomo’s perfect life was over. This southern sea was notoriously famous for its abundance of small islands, hundreds of them, rarely did the ships venture there, although it was the shortest way to Giacomo’s destination.

He was lost! He shall be forgotten! He was… under attack? What?

A stone flew at him, hitting Giacomo’s jaw. He cried out in pain, but before the poor man got up, a brown figure scurried toward him and in a flash, Giacomo was wacked over his head and lost consciousness.

***

He opened his eyes to a sight of the glimmering ocean waves further away, dancing and whispering in the midday sun. He looked up - a clumsily made canopy above his head protected his nude body from the scorching-hot sun. Nude? Giacomo attempted to get up, indeed he was naked, and his hands and feet were tied up with ropes. Giacomo looked around frantically. A creature sat under the same canopy, pointing a blunt knife at him. From what he could tell, it might have been a female, a skinny creature covered in dirt and mud.

She eyed his nude body with unhidden hunger.

“Would you please, untie me? And I need my clothes back,” he wasn’t sure if the mud-covered creature understood him at all. She squinted her eyes, growled something under her nose and licked her chapped lips.

“Please, don’t eat me!” Giacomo seemed to have guessed her thoughts. Judging by her bony frame, she wouldn’t mind having him for dinner. As the main course.

She approached him, holding the knife firmly.

“Please, no, please, no!” Giacomo begged closing his eyes to receive the fatal stab. Instead, she used the knife to cut the ropes binding him.

“Stop yer weepin’! Yer a pretty one, aren’t ya? I ain’t that hungry,” she said, still her eyes expressed some kind of a craving. He presumed she might have spent months, maybe years on the island, judging by the tanned skin and sun-bleached hair the mud revealed.

Giacomo crawled further away from her and the knife.

“Who are you?” He asked, grabbing his own clothes, and clutching them to his groin.

“A whore’s daughter is as good as a whore, that’s what they told me,” she grunted, “but I ain’t no whore! No sir!” She nodded to herself. “Cut me hair, I did. Stole some boys’ clothes, and to the brigands I be headin’. A good deckhand was always in short supply. And moppin’ the floors I knew.”

“You worked on a brigands’ ship? Did they throw you overboard the same as me?”

She gave a loud laugh.

“So, you one of them rich folk?! Nay, I was doing fine before that damn storm. Sunk the ship, it did. Only the dumb rich folk they dump, take their money and into the sea they go, the rich scum.”

“Tell me, is there a way to get off this island?” Giacomo asked, although he already knew the answer.

“No-way,” she shook her head. “One ship every three or four months, brigands be scoundrels, but not dimwits. Dangerous to sail - these parts.” She added seriously, “deadly storms, sharks and sea creatures.”

He grabbed his head and shook crying.

“Yer a fussy one. Wat’s yer name?”

“Giacomo Vincenzo de Medina the Third.”

“Giac… I’ll call ya’ Jack,” she obviously used a name more familiar to her ears.

“I be Mari. Marianne.”

“Marianne? It’s a lovely name,” even in these pathetic circumstances of his, Giacomo remained courteous. She giggled and smiled at him shyly, and despite her dreadful appearance and poor manners he saw a beautiful soul of a lady in front of him.

“Are ya’ hungry?” Marianne asked, after observing him putting his breeches and shirt back on hurriedly.

He hadn’t even felt hunger, overtaken by fright, but now that she’d mentioned it…

“Aye, hungry,” she replied to her own question when his stomach growled furiously. Despite Giacomo’s fears, the food was good - fish roasted on coals and coconut milk.

“Damn coconut milk!” She cursed, while Giacomo drank it with utmost delight. Indeed, it was the beverage sent by Heaven, as sweet as love itself! Oh, Giacomo had been in love before, but he fell in and out of love easily. Love for dancing always surpassed the fleeting affections his young love was.

Marianne observed him gulping the coconut milk with pure admiration in her eyes.

“Ya’ makes it look delicious,” she said with her blue eyes wide.

“But it is! Sweet and fresh. Do you not like it?”

Marianne stuck out her tongue.

“When it’s all yer drinking for years - not anymore,” she shook with disgust.

Giacomo’s eyes glided over her with sympathy, the poor thing!

“Haven’t you tried to escape the island? Surely, the brigands could’ve noticed a fire burning on the beach,” he pondered.

Marianne gave a rueful laugh.

“Coconut milk is nothin’ to what them scoundrels would do to a gal like me,” she looked down on the tattered rags of a man’s shirt she wore. It could not conceal her breasts. Though skinny, she was a nicely shaped young woman. Giacomo blushed from his own thoughts.

“Forgive me.” He took off his shirt in a flash and handed it to Marianne. “May I offer this? Yours appears a bit…”

She grabbed it happily. He barely got to shut his eyes, as Marianne undressed and slipped his shirt on.

“It’s nice,” she said, “and it smells good.”

As a gratitude Marianne treated him with more coconut milk, which he enjoyed immensely. Afterward she showed him around the island. It was small indeed, but Giacomo found it breath-taking. There was a tiny, pure, fresh-water stream, turning into a small river with several waterfalls. It ran and skipped through a patch of southern forest, blooming in flowers of all shapes and colours. Marianne usually hunted for fish or small animals. Today she covered herself in mud to hunt birds, but she had no luck. Fish and coconuts. The easiest way to get some food in one’s belly on this island.

Her own shack was pathetic. Though Giacomo wasn’t much of a handy man he kindly offered his help and got to improving Marianne’s shelter right away. In return she suggested he might live in her shack.

“Only until I built my own shelter. I do not wish to corrupt a young maiden’s reputation,” he said, to which Marianne giggled.

The hasty repairs took up all day. Giacomo worked; Marianne sat observing sweat drops gliding down his masculine torso.

In the hour of sunset Marianne beckoned him to follow her to the beach. Giacomo stood with his eyes wide - the magnificent orange, red and gold of the sky poured into the ocean. Gold everywhere, gold dancing on the waves. The sky leaned over the ocean, they weaved in the nearness of passionate lovers, a beauty Giacomo had never seen before. Marianne smiled and dived into the golden waves. When she swam up, Giacomo was lost for words. The water washed away all the mud, Marianne was indeed beautiful, tanned, and blue-eyed, with the golden sunset shining on her skin. Mesmerized, Giacomo followed her.

She said nothing, but both smiled with the mutual understanding - the beauty of sunset on this island was indescribable.

Marianne was a simple, but a beautiful soul. She taught him the wisdom of the island-life. Giacomo was useless at fishing and hunting, but he learned quickly. The days went by in working and learning, the nights in fighting off insects, and sleep. Every morning he woke to Marianne’s blue eyes watching him sleep.

One evening after a hard-days-work when hopelessness overtook him, Giacomo went into the ocean waves, reflecting the perfect sunset all around him. He danced in the waves, splashing and gliding, he danced beautifully, to forget his heartache. Marianne stood on the shore watching.

“You miss the world out there, don’t ya’?” She waded closer to him.

“A paradise was promised to me. A good, careless life. I would’ve taught the beautiful daughters of a Governor in a Southern kingdom,” he replied bitterly.

“I’m no beauty, but… if you’d teach me, I’d be happy.”

“Oh, but you are a beauty and… and I’d be honoured to teach you. It’s the least I can do to repay your kindness,” Giacomo said and took her hands.

He held her waist and the two moved slowly, dancing with the waves. Giacomo tried not to look, but the sheer, wet shirt revealed Marianne’s body quite openly. She closed her eyes, enjoying both the gentle touch of the ocean and his hands holding her. An unknown feeling overtook Giacomo, a yearning he never felt before. Before he could stop himself, Giacomo kissed her, and Marianne’s lips replied eagerly.

“Heaven forgive me!” Giacomo whispered as they laid down in the shallow, weaved together with the waves and the sunset.

“I too prayed Heavens every day for an angel to save me from the damn loneliness. Yer the angel,” she said lying in Giacomo’s arms, as the sunset blessed their union.

They danced through every golden sunset, Giacomo swore to marry his love when they were saved, while she shook her head; Marianne didn’t want to be discovered.

“You comin’, love?” She said walking home after the sunset one evening some months later.

Giacomo stared at the dark silhouette of the ship he noticed in the distance. If he’d light the fire on the beach, surely, they’d be rescued. Maybe the promised paradise was still waiting for him?

He looked at Marianne’s silhouette bathed in the last gold of the sunset.

“Coming, dearest!” He turned his back on the Ocean smiling, and never looked back at the ship.

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Thank you for reading!