Pirate Peril

Sequel to Winter Crisis. I wrote this around 6 months ago, before I knew about this website, but enjoy all the same! Sorry for the current absence of a cover, I'll have one soon, as it is handrawn. And I'll also find the blurb to add.
We join Lydia on her second adventure, as she sets out on the deep when chaos hits home. Can she survive the raging waters?


8. Vacancies

“If only children would learn to pick up after themselves.” The housemaid grumbled while picking up a rather tatty pair of socks. The maid stared around, about to call out to Lydia, when the desolate feeling hit her. There was something wrong… it just wasn’t right, to an outsider, the place would’ve looked lived-in and perfectly normal, however, this housemaid was not an outsider, so she saw the way the blankets hung limply off the armchair, as an eeriness crept over the room, magnifying the silence by a million. She advanced on the cluster of blankets encompassing sheets of paper, old sheets of paper. “Why would Miss Lydia want these?” She thought, reaching out towards the wafer-thin sheets. “I’ll have those.” Someone demanded. But how could they, she was alone! Dismissing the voice as a figment of her imagination, the housemaid went on to retrieve the paper from the jumble of the floor. As she straightened up, she heard. “I’ll have those.” The voice pressed, this time more sternly. She froze. It couldn’t be her imagination this time-lightning doesn’t strike twice, at least not in the same place.  More out of fear that curiosity, the housemaid did what people always did in the movies, and turned around, slowly, gripped by fear.

A middle-aged looking man stood at the door, a briefcase clutched in his left hand, with his other hand outstretched. “W-w-what happened to g-good morn-ning?” Stuttered the youthful maid. With ever-growing impatience, he replied, “I don’t do pleasantries, woman.” His face was grim and his business suit was suspiciously devoid of creases. Who would have an entirely creaseless outfit after half a day’s work in a business place, or visiting clients? A veil of silence fell over the living space. The only thing moving was the skirt of the woman, rippling in the breeze, which was followed by the lullaby-like sound of the sea, gently sliding up and down the shore. Our maid was puzzled by the situation, and I’m sure you are. The general public would see it as prissy young woman talking to her banker or business agent. But most people we’ve met so far would see trouble, big trouble, brewing in the faces of the man and woman. Then, shattering the silence like it was never there, the man moved forward. His squeaking (and newly polished) shoes brought his presence back into the mind of the maid, causing her to jump, her cloth flying from her apron pocket, although even through her shock, her face maintained its befuddled look while she picked up the cloth with her forefinger and thumb, cursing herself silently for letting herself be surprised. ‘The world is full of surprises, get over it’ she had always been told!

Frantically, the maid began glancing around for a way out of the conversation (never mind the house), but to no avail. Finally regaining her composure, and her calm state of mind, the young maid spoke, “Why do you want these?” She queried, raising the sheets up so that they were level with the top of her head. “That doesn’t matter, just give me them.” He said, tapping his foot, while staring at the maid with beady grey eyes. He lunged forward, only to have the woman snatch them away from his grasp childishly. “Not until you tell me why you’re here and what you want with Mr Anderson and Miss Lydia’s property!” She taunted. “What was that thing you said?” A renewed twinkle appeared in the eye of the business man. “Property? What’s so-” She was cut off. “No, before that.” He encouraged her. “Miss Lydia’s Prope-” Even more confused now than she was ever, the maid muttered this. “Yes, that would happen to be Lydia….Natrons, by any chance? Would it?” This man seemed apparently unaffected by the fact that he had just cut someone off-twice. How rude!

In the maid’s eyes, she saw a man mulling over something she could even begin to comprehend, in his mind. She saw a man, with a fiendish look on his face, who had obviously decided that he was going to keep her ‘out of the loop’, which made her irate, but what did maids do when they were irate? She didn’t know-she was just a friend of Mr Anderson’s, with nowhere else to go…

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