Pirate Borg · Celebration · Week 4 · The Price of Another Morning
The celebration has survived another night.
So has the harbour.
That seems reason enough to keep drinking.
The captain sits across from his daughter.
Not comfortably.
They are not there yet.
But they are sitting at the same table.
She rolls two dice.
DAUGHTER:
“You’re cheating.”
CAPTAIN:
“I taught you to play.”
DAUGHTER:
“That wasn’t a denial.”
CAPTAIN:
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
STACY:
“Progress.”
CAELWYN:
“Pirates accusing one another of dishonesty?”
STACY:
“Family conversation.”
Then the tavern door opens.
Nobody notices.
Except the captain.
He stops breathing.
A woman stands in the doorway.
Dark hair.
Plain dress.
Salt upon the hem.
No mask.
No weapon.
Nothing frightening about her at all.
The daughter follows her father’s stare.
The dice fall from her fingers.
DAUGHTER:
“No.”
The woman looks at her.
WOMAN:
“You grew up.”
The captain does not move.
CAPTAIN:
“Maria?”
She smiles.
MARIA:
“You got old.”
A broken laugh escapes him.
CAPTAIN:
“You’re dead.”
Maria steps inside.
MARIA:
“I know.”
The daughter approaches her.
Slowly.
DAUGHTER:
“Prove it.”
Maria looks at her hand.
MARIA:
“You still hide your thumb when you’re frightened.”
The daughter looks down.
Her thumb is folded beneath her fingers.
MARIA:
“You did that when you were little.”
The daughter’s face changes.
DAUGHTER:
“How would you know?”
MARIA:
“Because when you were six, you kicked me out of bed during a storm and told your father I had fallen.”
The captain closes his eyes.
CAPTAIN:
“Christ.”
The daughter touches Maria’s cheek.
Warm.
She touches it again.
MARIA:
“I’m here.”
Then the daughter embraces her mother.
For a little while, the impossible becomes ordinary.
Maria sits with them.
She laughs.
She listens to the stories of the years she missed.
The captain interrupts.
Both women tell him to be quiet.
He obeys.
CAELWYN:
“She seems alive.”
STACY:
“She is warm.”
CAELWYN:
“She breathes.”
STACY:
“She has a heartbeat.”
CAELWYN:
“That should be reassuring.”
STACY:
“It isn’t.”
Maria reaches for a cup.
She drinks.
Then begins coughing.
The daughter catches her.
DAUGHTER:
“Mama?”
Maria covers her mouth.
When she lowers her hand, it is wet.
Not blood.
Seawater.
A strand of black weed lies across her palm.
The music stops.
STACY:
“Sit down.”
Then a voice comes from beside the fire.
OLD WOMAN:
“Not yet.”
Nobody remembers seeing the old woman enter.
Bright scarf.
Beads around one wrist.
One bare foot tapping against the floor.
Four beats.
The same four notes that have followed the celebration for nights.
The daughter steps between her and Maria.
DAUGHTER:
“She stays.”
OLD WOMAN:
“That is not yours to decide.”
CAPTAIN:
“Then whose?”
The old woman looks at Maria.
OLD WOMAN:
“Hers.”
Then towards the others.
OLD WOMAN:
“And theirs.”
The harbour bell rings by itself.
Once.
The old woman rises.
OLD WOMAN:
“You sang.”
One step.
OLD WOMAN:
“You danced.”
Another.
OLD WOMAN:
“You wore faces that were not yours.”
Another.
OLD WOMAN:
“You called names belonging to people who could no longer answer.”
She stops beside Maria.
OLD WOMAN:
“And for one night, the road opened.”
STACY:
“Can she stay?”
The old woman looks at Maria.
OLD WOMAN:
“Yes.”
The captain answers immediately.
CAPTAIN:
“Name your price.”
MARIA:
“No.”
CAPTAIN:
“Yes.”
MARIA:
“You don’t even know what she’s asking.”
CAPTAIN:
“I don’t care.”
MARIA:
“You haven’t changed at all.”
CAPTAIN:
“You’re alive.”
MARIA:
“For one night.”
CAPTAIN:
“Then I’ll buy the morning.”
The old woman smiles.
OLD WOMAN:
“You cannot buy morning.”
The harbour bell rings again.
OLD WOMAN:
“But perhaps you can make room for it.”
She walks towards the door.
OLD WOMAN:
“Until dawn, she is your guest.”
DAUGHTER:
“And after?”
The old woman looks towards the black sea.
OLD WOMAN:
“That depends on what your family believes one life is worth.”
CAPTAIN:
“Tell me the price.”
OLD WOMAN:
“Tomorrow.”
CAPTAIN:
“Why tomorrow?”
The old woman looks back at the celebration.
OLD WOMAN:
“Because tonight is for celebrating.”
Then she looks directly at him.
OLD WOMAN:
“Tomorrow is for paying.”
She disappears into the night.
The family sits together.
Father.
Mother.
Daughter.
For the first time in years.
Outside, the eastern sky remains dark.
But dawn is coming.
Maria looks towards the window.
MARIA:
“I’d forgotten what morning felt like.”
The captain takes her hand.
CAPTAIN:
“Then you’ll see another.”
And somewhere beyond the tavern, something laughs.
Not from the sea.
From much closer.
If someone you loved could return to life — but you had to pay a price you did not yet know — would you ask them to stay?
What would you do?
Enter a Pirate Borg world where every choice has a price: