Ghost Ship
Lo, these past 12 months this patron reward story has been concealed behind Patreon's paywall. But now it has been released to the world, and even those who do not patronise me can read it for free.
Ghost Ship
They used to tell a story in the pubs in town – story telling is out of fashion now, people prefer to watch the football on the TV, or listen to music, or gossip, which is to storytelling like a sprat is to a whale – about a ship on the China tea run. A great clipper, perhaps not the fastest, or the largest, or one that had great stories told about her, but fast enough and large enough and manned by the men of the town. Well she sailed off on her voyage, months long and everyone at home went about their business.
(The story they told was more longwinded, and at this point the teller would mention their thirst, claiming the hot smoky air from the fire had dried out their throat and they were in need of lubrication.)
Well one day at dusk a lad and a lass who had been walking up on the headland, or so they claimed, called out that the ship was back. And everyone in town crowded onto the headland, and there she was, sails taut, flying like a bird. And then the next moment she vanished.
They say – or they did when they told proper stories in the pub, not just dirty jokes and what happened on Eastenders – that if you go out to the headland on the right evening at twilight – maybe the Autumn equinox, maybe All Hallows Eve – you can see the ship. But no one tells that story any more, and no one goes to see.
Ghost Ship
They used to tell a story in the pubs in town – story telling is out of fashion now, people prefer to watch the football on the TV, or listen to music, or gossip, which is to storytelling like a sprat is to a whale – about a ship on the China tea run. A great clipper, perhaps not the fastest, or the largest, or one that had great stories told about her, but fast enough and large enough and manned by the men of the town. Well she sailed off on her voyage, months long and everyone at home went about their business.
(The story they told was more longwinded, and at this point the teller would mention their thirst, claiming the hot smoky air from the fire had dried out their throat and they were in need of lubrication.)
Well one day at dusk a lad and a lass who had been walking up on the headland, or so they claimed, called out that the ship was back. And everyone in town crowded onto the headland, and there she was, sails taut, flying like a bird. And then the next moment she vanished.
They say – or they did when they told proper stories in the pub, not just dirty jokes and what happened on Eastenders – that if you go out to the headland on the right evening at twilight – maybe the Autumn equinox, maybe All Hallows Eve – you can see the ship. But no one tells that story any more, and no one goes to see.
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