This is a short story I wrote for my Creative writing class and I really liked the characters. I thought I would post it here and get some feedback. It's not perfect and I had some difficulties turning it into a story, but I am proud of it. If anything, it can just be an archive of some beloved character traits.
“So,
what’ll it be Oh Captain My Captain,” the jolly bartender sang to a sullen man,
“your usual I’m guessing?”
“It’s
been the same drink for a decade, Mr. Fatima, and I don’t plan on changing my
order. I’ve sat on this exact stool at noon on every Sunday since I got my
business running and I always wonder why you never have my drink waiting for
me.” The sullen captain replied with a half smirk on his face.
Captain
Linneaus was an intelligent man. His unblemished face was accompanied by a long
grey beard that was kept orderly with a clean knot. The eyes of determination
were carved sharply under his thick stern brow. He wore an old wool navy coat
that was pulled taught by his broad shoulders and a large yellow belt. This leather
belt was equipped with several different pouches, every one filled and
organized. With the help of his only friend, Mister Bandinelli, a finely
crafted gun holster was sewn to the inside of his jacket. This held an old
six-shooter that never jams and never misses its target. He would fill the gun
with 5 copper full metal jacket rounds followed by a bullet made completely of
silver. Captain Linneaus was not a man to believe in the supernatural, but he
was a man who was ready for anything.
As if Fatima was reading from a script, he began filling
a pint glass with stout and said “because I want you to keep your options open,
sir, and please, call me Desmond.” He put the glass on a handmade wooden
coaster that depicted an albatross and slid it in front of Linneaus. “I suppose
you would like some chips as well then. Lightly salted?”
“Desmond is the name of a boy. When are you going to represent
your family and let me treat you like a professional?” the captain took a sip
of his drink and released a sigh, “Chips would be lovely, and make it a double
order, I am expecting company.”
The bartender wrote on a ticket and threw it in the
kitchen window and replied, “I can go by my first name while still being
professional, just like your company can use his last name and still act like a
child.”
Right on cue, Mr. Bandinelli barged through the door of
the Seaside Tavern and made his way across the room. He sat down and took a
large handful of the chips that were just placed in front of the captain. There
was always something different about him and today he carried an unidentifiable
musty odor.
Mr. Bandinelli was a drunk, but you would
never know this if he didn’t pull out his never ending flask of fine Irish
whiskey every two seconds. He was an attractive man much like Captain Linneaus,
but in a gentler way. Brown wavy locks of hair were pushed off to either side
of his head. He was clean shaven out of necessity. He has tried to grow a
goatee in the past, but even that small pasture of hair would grow in patchy
and discolored. A black leather vest riddled with hideous pockets draped
carelessly over an unbuttoned collared shirt. Each pocket held a memento that
signified one of the hundreds of islands or ports that he has visited. Every
time he visited a new place, he would sew on a new pocket and would not let the
captain leave until he found a trinket worthy enough to represent the area. His
eyes showed signs of insomnia and if you looked into them deep enough you would
see the wonders of the cosmos.
“Where
are we headed today, boss?” the mumbling man said with a mouth full of
potatoes.
“I
can’t understand you when you’re chomping like a hog,” the captain spat, “But,
I am going to assume you were talking business. We are heading to a small
island that is a few hours off coast. The prosperous family that lives on that
island has graciously asked me to bring some supplies out to them. It’s odd for
people to live that far out into the ocean, but I won’t judge. I imagine they
have a plane or a boat of their own and it might just be broken down. Their
package is coming from the engineering warehouse after all... Are you even
listening?”
Mr.
Bandinelli, who was deep in thought and drink, shook his head gently and said,
“What do you think their house looks like? I wanna say it’s going to be several
smaller houses scattered around a courtyard of cobblestone.”
“Well,
after you finish the chips, we can get going and you will be able to see for
yourself.”
They
ate in silence until Mr. Bandinelli rose from the chair and left the building
unannounced. The captain quickly threw down money enough to cover his bill and
a tip for the kind man behind the bar. With a straightening of his coat, he
marched out of the tavern leisurely pursuing the strange quiet man. He knew Mr.
Bandinelli would be waiting on their ship.
When
Captain Linneaus started the engine of his delivery tug boat, Bandinelli was
sewing a swatch of green to his vest and making a new pocket. The boat
sputtered and began moving. It wasn’t a fast boat, but it was reliable. Three
hours passed before a large island with a landing strip could be seen on the horizon.
On the far side of the island there was a small dock where the captain parked
his boat. The crate that he was delivering was almost too heavy for a dolly,
but with the help of Mr. Bandinelli, they managed to get it on land. A Man in
his late 20s rushed down to meet the two.
“Good
day, gentlemen, would you mind following me with that to the hangar?” the
mustached man asked.
“Certainly.
Do you mind us asking what you have in here?” the captain replied.
“My
plane broke down a few days ago and I needed a new part for the engine. I
usually fly in to get fuel and supplies, but I obviously couldn’t do that with
a plane that couldn’t even get off the ground. There is a few gallons of fuel
and the needed part along with your payment.”
“That’s
a rather unorthodox way of conducting business mister…”
“You
can call me Angus.” He interrupted while opening a door to a small
half-cylinder building. “Could you open the crate and unload the part and fuel
on that work bench over there?” he said, gesturing to a long wooden table with
tools on it.
Mr.
Bandinelli, who was silent up until this point, chimed in, “I’ve never been in
a plane before, do you mind if I check it out for a few minutes?”
“I
suppose you can’t damage her any more than she already is,” Angus agreed “climb
on in while I help your fellow unload my shipment.”
Mr.
Bandinelli climbed the small ladder that led to the cockpit and hopped in. The
other two men began unloading the crate and ignored the excitement in his eyes.
It only took about five minutes to get to the bottom where another small
package was kept.
“That’s
yours,” Angus addressed the captain, “Inside is a gold bar that should get you
quite a profit and I also included my favorite bottle of wine. Thank you for
your business, captain, I hope we can do this again in the future.”
Captain
Linneaus gave a slight nod and called to Mr. Bandinelli that it was time to go.
They shook hands with Angus and left quickly. After an hour at sea, the captain
opened the package and pulled out the promised bottle of wine. He opened it
with a corkscrew that he had in his belt and handed it to his partner. They
would take a swig and pass it back and forth after every swallow.
After
a few minutes, the captain spoke up, “What did you find back there that was
worthy enough to put in your hideous vest?”
Mr.
Bandinelli didn’t say anything. He just reached in to the green pocket that he
sewed on earlier. He balled his fist
around something metallic and dangled it in front of the captain with a laugh.
The keys to a small aircraft hung briefly before being dropped in their final
resting place of Mr. Bandinelli’s vest of wonder.
