“Shall you give your hand or your eye?”
There was no reply. The stowaway was too fixated on the knife at his throat. His limbs pinned to the deck by the unwashed bodies.
The pirate continued, “You do want to be one of us, don’t you?”
With widened eyes, the stowaway tried to squirm, only to force the blade deeper into his flesh. He begged, “No…”
A snort. The smell of whiskey. The pirate turned to the crowd.
“The eye it shall be.”
Cheers erupted, drowning out the stowaway's screams. From deep inside the ship, a red hot poker emerged.
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alt="Stone Jaws by Evan Baughfman"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
class="motion-reduce"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>