Many years ago, I encountered a great storm at sea. Now, it may surprise my future readers to know, but I was a member of the most infamous pirate crew that ever sailed the Seven Seas. The captain of this crew was none other than the dreaded “Captain Fang.” If you’ve never heard of him you’ve either been living under a rock, or very far inland. He was known for being violent and merciless in his raids, and was referred to as the “King of Pirates” by many. Being in his crew, one might ask what I thought of this man, but I would like to refrain from disclosing that information until later. Now, that storm at sea… Yes, it was a terrible storm. The crew rushed about frantically, doing their best not to be dragged off the deck and into Davy’s locker. The wind howled violently and chilled every last bone in our bodies. They all looked to their Captain, yelling, “What should we do?! Captain, save us!” He had always taken command and somehow managed to pull them out of any impossible scrape. But this time, he returned their desperate pleas with a stone-cold gaze that shattered every last shard of hope left in his crew. Something was different about him. It seemed as if he had lost the fire and will to live that had used to keep him and his crew going all these years. His crew, frenzied and panicked, watched as their captain walked calmly across the deck to the rail that bordered the starboard side of the ship. He turned and looked back at them, closed his eyes, then leaned over the rail, falling into the thrashing murky depths.

As I was swallowed by the sea, all I could think was how much I hated him—Fang, I mean. Why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he save us? Why did he abandon his crew in their hour of need? I never liked him since I first met him, yet I still remained a member of his crew. Eventually, I came to terms with him, but Fang is dead now. I’m not exactly sure when he was killed, but I know who did it. She made the world a better place by doing so.