MicroHorror

Somebody else would have thought all the gold coins identical, but Dale assorted them according to their mars. He scrutinized and stacked until he had exactly five rows of five coins lined on his wooden desk. Satisfied, he scooped the coins into a leather bag indiscriminately and closed the drawstring. He placed it in his inner coat pocket, next to his beating heart.

Dale locked his door and strolled the wharf until he spotted a ship. Aside from his desire for a figurehead, this ship was precisely what he wanted. He approached a young man seated on a crate near the ship and proposed an offer.

The man refused. Dale persisted. Dale’s persistence threw the young man into a fury. The young man drew his revolver and fired in the air. The noise startled his wife. Adorned in a bonnet and calico, she ran to the ship’s rail. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she gazed upon her husband below.

Dale pretended to be bothered by the commotion, backed down politely, and strolled the wharf once more. He could not shake the desire for that particular ship, so he purchased a revolver for himself. He placed it in his inner pocket, next to his beating heart.

Dale returned to the wharf. When the man refused Dale’s offer again, Dale drew the revolver and shot the young man dead on the spot.

Dale sailed out to sea, content with the acquisition of the precise item he coveted. He listened to the sails flap in the breeze and watched for flickers of calico.

She made the perfect figurehead for the perfect ship.