Write for yourself...then share it.
What if a beloved figure committed a crime,
it unravelled all the history you were taught?
Only in hardbound
Dozens of grand ships
A dozen countries
One shocking year
This is NOT the history you were taught....
“What have we done?” he murmured, as smoke obscured their view and the nearest soldier turned to see him standing there. (pg. 10)
"...Their plan is to kill us, but the hunt has not begun. Don’t you see? We are only rats, being flushed into the open from our holes!” (pg. 12)
In the evening light, the continued haze of ruinous fires could be seen as a rose in the air above him. Its hue was deepening – reminding him of blood. (pg. 91)
It was kinder to the woman, to allow her the strength to say the thing, and remove the responsibility and the culpability of doing it. She could think her husband dead that very moment, and begin making her own better life – or she could carry him forever in her heart, thinking he escaped everyone but his God. There was peace for her there, and no guilt. (pg. 98)
As the 'acting man', he can meddle about, and create mischief, even position himself to be elected. Those things are more likely when the world is occupied elsewhere, as paltry, mortal empires will often be. (pg. 136)
Soldiers would now shoot, and they would walk where fish were sold, and bread was baked. They would light fires where babes slept, and where children played. Screams would sound in the morning air, and it would not be the noise of wood rent by cannon ball; they would be the screams of lives ending. (pg. 140)
They sang as she careened, rolling her masts down into the waves –into the abyss.
No lottery was made to determine who rode her. No man was sentenced to that death. It had been the songs they sang that purchased that ferry - they volunteered, to have Justice. Granted the ride, they were told they could go anywhere they wished, if they lived. (pg. 170)
A war is an uneven thing. Men may lie bleeding and dying but a mile distant from children running and laughing at play. Nights of horror and flame may calm to a glorious, peaceful dawn over weary camps. Allies may often only guess - as they leap to thrust and ruin – what their friends will offer of aid in a later hour. War is the most heedless, destructive word men have uttered; behind only Hate. It never wears the same meaning twice, finding its true definition only at the completion of its task, for War is a thing, not a thought.
“Our duty, to do that harm, has cost us our home! Our duty has betrayed us, Edward! Our government betrayed us and the world has called us beasts.” (pg. 182)
"Life was so strange now; sixty-three years of wearing his own skin and Jupiter did not feel himself anymore.
The sensation made his fingers tingle, and he smiled. He wanted to write. He wanted to explain his extraordianry thoughts to his papers, but he could not. The box, with his only personal possessions; his books, his quills, those were on the carriage-top, somewhere in the night—ahead of his bare feet." (pg. 200)
"...We are not all honest here. I will admit that. We are a concealed community, and our reasons for it are important enough that we protect that concealment. Your colonel could damage our purpose, when it would be better that all agree to share out and live apart here according to our desires." (pg. 220)
“Up to this moment, you have been in control of your fears, Alexander. You walked among men who could have hanged you had I called for your death. They openly called you spy, and you come here—riding for the pleasures on a ship of the King’s Navy!...senseless and innocent to any dangers. Naïve, Mr. Hamilton. You come here so honestly and naïve.
Only, just this once, at the mention of a king, you wither as a whipped dog…” (pg. 250)
“My apologies to these able gentlemen. Only, the colonel has put a very short sentence to a very large difficulty that you all share. Until those colors fade from sight and memory, precious few will give you any allegiance. Your aim, as I tried to understand it, was some larger good for us all, yet you wrap it in a soiled garment.” (pg. 306)
The living men must be swayed to the desires of those who died, for within those past lives had been a spark unique. The dead had been men to confront a king. (pg. 314)
Pinpricks. First, as stars might twinkle. Almost directly in his line of sight. From the center of the waterfront little lights burst to life and they rushed out to the edges of his vision. Within an instant, they encompassed the mile of his campfires, and still they rushed away. Then they grew. (pg. 320)
“Admiral, I have never been at war until this year. But, I know it now. I like nothing about it. Not its reasons, not its outcomes. I don’t see a war of power and justice there,” he pointed to the smoking city, “I see Stirling in all his foolish rage, against men who have been sorely harmed before. Harmed only because they tired of bowing.” (pg. 329)
“No, sir, he is dangerous in the extreme. I’ve never known a person so fawning of those who will flatter him, and still so brutal to those who disagree with his cause.” (pg. 343)
Below the water, no ship is ever warm; so they are called cold-blooded. Below the water, the air within her is the temperature of the sea she rides. When a man goes below, to the ballast bins, he can see his breath. (pg. 354)
Above the hovel-hut flew the largest standard the pole could fit.
He noted the veneration the men gave to that symbol. But cloth—a wrap for a man’s pride—yet those gathered there gave it another strength. It would go first before them, and come from the forest in advance of any single soldier.
It was a bold, strong banner. Foretelling an army; proclaiming a king—those statements were its only purpose.