The Parchment and Quill Collective

Written By Lou Turnbull (2022)

Their footsteps were limp, almost waterlogged with despair. Heavy footfalls echoed across the town square, the sound bouncing off the worn dirt roads and the rickety wooden buildings like a gruesome final boarding call.

“For the act of Conspiracy against the Crown, Piracy, or Aiding and Abetting a Pirate, you shall be hanged from the neck until dead.”

The chains snagged on loose rocks and jangled with every step; the metal way too tight around their shackled limbs.

At the front of the line, was a child, no older than 15. He was humming a familiar tune as he dragged his heavy limbs towards the gallows.

The men and women behind him began to sing softly, the lyrics supposed to have haunted the land for generations.

Yo, ho, Haul Together.

The people shuffled along in perfect synchronisation, using their collective strength to hold the chains between them. Their heads were bowed as they approached the King’s soldier, where the cuffs on their wrists was traded for rope to tie their hands behind their backs.

Hoist the Colours High.

They stepped onto the wooden platform, the splintering wood creaking underneath the weight, the Executioner placing and tightening the nooses around their necks. There was barely time to say a final prayer before the platform dropped, leaving dying carcasses to float like flags in a breeze.

Heave Ho.

The officers waiting under the platform had little care as they removed the noose from the corpse, the pairs of men heaving the bodies out from under the stage to the corpse pile, where another man dug through the bodies, looking for anything of value or use.

Thieves and Beggars.

Peasants anxiously awaited from the sidelines, watching the callous killings. They were waiting for the Soldiers’ scraps of course, for when the soldiers left, they’d steal every last scrap of fabric from the dead bodies. Some were even waiting for their reward to be handed over, for they had turned over one of these criminals to the Navy.

Never shall we die.

“… and many believe the song they sung as they walked to the gallows was an omen, and a bad one at that. Pirates and those who supported them were very superstitious, and it seems they had every right to be. Over the coming centuries, many a-visitor on the grounds has reported items going missing, seeing ghostly figures, and hearing their haunting song on the wind,” the tour guide smiled brightly, gesturing to the gallows; an eyesore against the pristinely preserved pirate town, with its rotting wooden platform, mildew and lichen covering the remaining ropes and frame.

The group murmured amongst themselves, whispers of “OMG” and “That’s bullshit” being carried by the breeze.

A scream tore through the stage whispers, and the tour group whipped around. An elderly woman, at an age where one shouldn’t be doing a ghost tour for fear of one’s safety, was pointing at a figure in the distance.

A young boy, no older than 15, dressed in rags. He was quite literally translucent, pale and blue, with a noose hanging around his neck mouthing lyrics to the song they all knew.

Never Shall We Die.