King

• Claudia Ball, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

The termite ridden mast creaked under the weight of the soaking canvas sails. What I'm sure was once the beautifully horrifying figurehead of the princess Andromeda, chained to a rock about to be sacrificed to the sea monster by her own mother, was broken and distorted. An image I was going to make a reality for the men aboard her ship.

I am aware that serpents have long been known as fearful and intelligent creatures that cause the stirring of evil things and wreak havoc across the lands. I find this judgement harshly untrue. I am far worse than that.
I can hear the puny humans below me, struggling to keep their ship afloat. It careens to the left and I watch in amusement as they tumble across the deck. Waves of salt water and sea muck blast them mercilessly. I rake up against them, my jagged scales ripping at their canons and oars, bending everything out of place. This throws them into a panic, now that half their weapons are destroyed. But I am really just toying with them now. Making their lives as miserable as possible before I destroy all memory of them. They will suffer greatly at my hand, just as many before them. Though I sense more of a fight behind these people, the will to survive, nothing escapes me. I will put on a show.

I rear up, out of the water and tower over my opponents. Despite that only a quarter of my great enormity has surfaced, I easily account for five times the height of the warship. I unhinge my jaw and let loose a guttural battle cry, to affirm my power. I don't need to though, they are already terrified. I have no doubt I will crush them. I am the king of the seas and no other comes close to my size and power. I murdered my queen and children in hatred and cold blood. I will not be succeeded. Never replaced. I am the terror of the seas, who haunts the dreams of every sailor. The ones I allow to survive, I send scurrying back, with a message.
Nothing I try to kill escapes me.

Ever...