Creative Writing: Mopping Pails And Poop Decks

hapter Nineteen
Mopping Pails and Poop Decks

Isabel zipped out of the galley and landed on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked me, her voice trembling.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “It’s just . . .” I pointed to my seared off eyebrows and holey jeans.
“Mmm,” Cotton ran up and bear hug or gnome hug me, “very edgy.”
Emma stood behind him, trying to look angry, but even she seemed relieved to see me. “So what happened?”
“I sort of fell.”
“Aiden! Thirty feet?”
I told them the whole story of the sea monster’s poison, my high-dive act, and the underwater lady’s message.
“Whoa,” said Cotton. “We’ve got to get you to the Forgotten Realm. You can’t ignore a summons from your dad.”
Before Emma could respond, Kidd with Gypsy perched on his head, toppled backward
“Why do these stupid deck hands insist on leaving their junk all over the ship?” he muttered to himself as he stalked off.
A moment later, several gremlins raced up the stairs wielding swords and formed a line on the main deck.
“He’s fine.” Captain Bluebird smiled widely, revealing a number of gold teeth. “All’s well that ends well. And look.” He pointed to an enchanted island. “There she is, Thunder Rock.”
I straightened up and spotted at least a dozen sea witches with blond curls, blue-scaled tails pale as the summer sky, and clothing made of seashells basking on the beach.
“There are five volcanoes positioned side by side,” Isabel said. “One of them spewed tons of red-hot lava straight up into the air less than fifty years ago.”
“Sweet,” Emma whispered. “That’s weird. The water lapping against the beach, right over there where the sea witches are lying, is tranquil and purple. But over here,” she pointed to the steep side of Thunder Rock, “the sea is almost black and steaming around the shore.”
“Cool, and look at those snow-capped mountains,” I said. “There are probably huge ice caves beneath the peaks.”
As we sailed closer, I could see lots of tall, lush palm trees scattered across Thunder Rock. And large, multicolored seabirds were propelled around the island by gentle, westward
We piled in and started paddling toward the shore.
From my vantage point, I could see that the island was rather large and egg-shaped. The volcanoes positioned near the center jutted like broken teeth into the sky, and pitted glaciers lined the far side.
Once we landed, the captain pulled our tiny craft onto the sand. Some of the lounging sea witches nodded indignantly at us as if suggesting we had no right to intrude on their sunbathing. Then they slowly slithered on their elbows over the sand toward the water’s edge and dove in. I watched as they swam away, flapping their tails in disgust. Others remained and simply ignored us.
“There goes our welcoming party,” Emma said.
I picked up a handful of shiny black sand and let it slip through my fingers.
“The sand is coarse because it’s made of little fragments of molten rock,” Kidd explained. “As the lava cools, it shatters into various sizes and shapes.”
“Very interesting,” Emma said. “You sure know a lot for a kid.”
“Emma, I may look like a child to you,” he sniffed, “but I’m actually one hundred and fifty-two years old.”
She looked down. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t