The captain’s coat was like wet tar, thick and heavy with a mean dark shine; his tricorne too. His face was shadow, but his eyes... his eyes were embers, red and dangerous.
Javier could not keep the tremor from his voice. “Thissus the Mappe, yer fearsomeness, to Cap’n Webb’s treasure.”
Crooked hook-nailed fingers curled like talons around the yellowing scroll and tossed it to the nearby brazier. Greedy flames devoured the old paper.
Javier grabbed for his cutlass, faltered.
The captain’s gaze burnt brighter. “What the fire consumes it knows forever, and the Pyrate needs no map but the flames.”
Author bio: Stare into a fire long enough and you realise it knows everything, if only you could understand what it was trying to say. John Xero feels that way about the world.
Flaming shots: @xeroverse
Around the camp fire: xeroverse.com
Pyrate is part of 101 Fiction issue 22.