It was only when he was dangling from a tightly-knotted rope around his ankles that Red Jack – former Captain of the Avenger and current prisoner on Crossbones Isle – realized that a lot of the problems in his life could have been avoided if he’d been a bit less of a cliché.
If he’d gone for plain sails instead of black, he might have managed to take those ships unawares. If he’d taken his gold to a bank and invested it in a diverse portfolio instead of making a cryptic map, it might have been a good deal more secure.
And if he’d buried the gold under the perfectly ordinary rock instead of the one that looked like a skull, he might not be watching a pack of treasure hunters carry it away right under his nose.
But all that would be no trouble once he got the ropes undone. He’d wait for them to leave, then slip aboard the ship, get into a couple duels, and recover his hard-stolen gold. All part of the story.
Then he saw the pistol, aimed right between his eyes.
And for the first time in his life, he realized it wasn’t a story.
Word Count: 199
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Thanks to Susan for running the challenge and Joy Pixley for providing the prompt photo!