Short Stubbly Brownbeard the Pirate pointed the
bow of his leased ship the For Sale towards the
Equator, making way along the coast of the
southern colonies. His intent was to go past all
that was overseen by the King and into the
dangerous, but rich warm waters of the Caribbean.
With the power of invisibility, Brownbeard had
little to fear from mere mortals. Soon, he would
challenge even his great cousin for title of Most
Loathed Yet Respected of All the Horrible,
Villainous, Throat-Cutting, Thieving Yucks of the
Sea—or the Moly Rahv Throcutys as the well-
known pseudo-acronym goes.
One day whilst still in waters cold and choppy,
Brownbeard observed a coastal island with what
he guessed to be a large home nested beyond the
line of magnolia and oak trees that watched over
the beach. The house seemed rather like a castle,
for the only sign that gave its presence away were
two turrets peeking above the tall trees.
Brownbeard decided that the inhabitants of this
lovely and well-to-do estate should be his first
clients. With that, he dropped anchor and rowed
out to the beach.
Brownbeard’s plan was to make a sneak attack,
finding the most valuable of items in the house
and bring them quietly back to his ship. He
brought with him a sack in which to put the loot. If
necessary, he would make several trips.
Brownbeard thought he might even stay for a few
days and make a thorough inspection of the place
so as not to miss anything of great value that was
not in plain view.
Brownbeard was excited, but not overconfident.
His adrenaline pumped as he dragged his rowboat
up the beach past the high tide mark. His eyes
look this way and that for signs that he was being
observed just in case his invisibility had worn off.
The beach looked to be deserted.
As he entered the thick grove of trees some
distance from the water, Brownbeard could no
longer see the turrets so easily observed from the
For Sale. He headed into the trees in the direction
he thought would take him towards his goal, feet
crunching noisily upon fallen leaves and branches.
Brownbeard felt for the handle of his sword. It
was still there.
After several minutes of walking in as straight a
line as possible, Brownbeard stopped to take a
good look at his environs. He was a bit perplexed.
He was sure that he had walked a good distance
into the wood, and should have encountered the
place he sought. Not much light made it through
the dense canopy above. For an instant,
Brownbeard felt a twang of fear as he thought he
might be lost. His trail was not noticeable. And he
had not thought to drop breadcrumbs as he went
so that he might find his way back. But then he
relaxed, thinking he now saw the path his noisy
boots had stomped.
The forest was a dark and green cathedral.
Massive and solid wooden pillars supported the
verdurous vault above, while thinner wooden
tendrils held up the leafy, flowery artwork that
filled this temple of timber. The trees here were
ancient giants, with roots that meandered like sea
serpents before leisurely plunging into the earth.
These large and wandering roots by their natural
curves and dips provided comfortable places to
sit or recline no matter the size or shape of the
behind. Brownbeard folded into one of these
gnarled, well-formed chairs, deciding to watch and
listen for a moment. Peering deep into the wood,
in the direction he though he should be going,
Brownbeard saw flashes of golden light.
“Ah! Fireflies! Just beginning to come out.”
Then, a large animal, graceful and quick, flashed
across a narrow path in the trees.
“A deer!” Brownbeard thought with excitement.
Then another deer ran across the path, only
somewhat further away and going in the other
direction. Brownbeard picked himself up and
proceeded to walk along the barely perceivable
and narrow path that he hoped proceeded in the
right direction. As he walked, the forest caught
fire with the spark of thousands of fireflies
bursting to light. He turned a full circle in place,
jaw dropping at the spectacle before him. And
numerous deer continued to run back and forth in
all directions. Appearing for only the briefest
instant, these amazing creatures seemed to be
engaging in a game of tag with one another.
Brownbeard did not understand how these large
animals so easily and noiselessly darted through
the trees and undergrowth which made such a
formidable barrier for him to walk through.
At a point on his walk at which he felt he must
be all the way across the island, Brownbeard came
to a clearing in which stood a beautiful castle.
Two tall and slender towers rose to a height of a
hundred feet. Rather than being built of cold, gray
stone, the castle shimmered a soft golden color as
though its walls contained trapped sunlight.
From the edge of the wood, Brownbeard watched
the castle intently, looking for any sign that
someone was about the property, or stirring
within. But the castle just stood in the sun silently.
Brownbeard turned and looked behind him. The
flashes of firefly light had died down and he saw
no more deer. Now the wood from which he had
just emerged looked dark and foreboding; the
castle in the clearing looked bright and
welcoming. Brownbeard cautiously walked across
the well-kept lawn towards a large door. He
decided he would look for a window to climb
through rather than enter what must be the castle’s
main access.
Walking alongside the walls, Brownbeard
noticed that all windows were many feet above the
top of his head, and at no place did there seem to
be as much as a single handhold or foothold upon
which to climb. He came to a window that was
only a couple feet above the fingertips of his
outstretched arms. Leaning against the steeply
sloping wall, Brownbeard ran his hand down the
side of the castle. He jumped back in amazement.
The walls were built of sand! Dry sand! As dry as
dry could be! Where he had leaned upon the wall
remained a gentle imprint of his torso. And where
he had run his hand along the wall were the gently
hewn tracks his fingers had lightly plowed.
Impossible! Such a structure could not stand as
tall as his knee let alone a hundred feet high!
Brownbeard took several steps back to appreciate
the incredible absurdity before him. This must
surely be the largest sand castle in the Universe.
What to make of this?
What to make of this!
What made this?
Brownbeard decided he must make a direct
assault upon the castle. Carefully and quietly as
possible, he tested the front door to see if it was
unlocked. The large door pushed open easily and
noiselessly. Brownbeard stepped into a large
entryway filled with light. Paintings of the sea, of
mountains, of forests, and of places
unrecognizable to Brownbeard, graced the walls.
The entrance to a room that must be the library
was off to one side. Brownbeard could see large,
comfortable looking chairs there. Books filled
shelves covering the walls. To the other side was
the entrance to a room in which a table set with
dishes and silverware and glasses was partially
visible. It looked like the owner was preparing to
entertain a large dinner party.
Directly before Brownbeard rose a large spiral
staircase, guarded by a suit of armor with hands
folded across the handle of a sword. The sword
blade pointed into a slab of marble upon which the
suit of armor stood. Besides the fact the suit was
barely waist high from tip of toe to top to head, it
looked like any other such suit Brownbeard had
seen. The spiral staircase ended high above and
led to an interior balcony, along which were many
large doors. It looked like there were more
paintings and other works of art interspersed
between the doors, the details of which were
washed out by beams of light pouring in through
the windows high above.
Brownbeard turned slowly around to examine the
walls of the place. Yes, even inside they were
composed of sand. He could easily plunge his
fingers, his whole hand even, into the walls!
Grains of sand poured onto the floor as
Brownbeard removed his hand from out of the
wall’s innards.
“I’d best not do that too many times,”
Brownbeard thought, “lest the whole place come
tumbling down!”
Brownbeard decided to tour the place. Treading
quietly as possible, one hand upon his sword,
Brownbeard entered the library. He was
dumbfounded by the number of things all around
that appeared to his untrained eye to be of
considerable value. Brownbeard knew he did not
know how to tell if a certain object was of value
or not on the open market, so his plan had been to
just take everything. But now he realized that this
would be a very large job indeed. Many days of
work slogging things back to the For Sale. And if
the owners of the place were around, even if they
could not see him, surely they would start to
notice things disappearing from their house. He
might possess the advantage of invisibility, but
Brownbeard still did not want to chance any
difficulties. Perhaps it would be best to just select
a few things that appeared to be of the greatest
value. Brownbeard nodded to himself in
acknowledgment of his wise ways.
The library was impressive indeed. Brownbeard
was torn between inventorying the objects with
which the library was decorated, and looking at
the titles of the books. The large
room’s walls were entirely covered with shelves
that went up three stories complete. There was a
ladder for use to reach the books high above your
head.
As he moved towards one of the shelves,
Brownbeard stepped around a small table covered
with knick-knacks. He glanced down and stopped.
“Oh! No! That’s no knick-knack,” breathed an
excited Brownbeard. There, amidst a miniature
tree that looked like a model of one of the island’s
large, ancient oaks and a brass sundial, was a
large gem. It looked to Brownbeard to be a huge
diamond. Maybe. He was not sure.
He bent down to look at the stone a bit closer.
Amazing! From one angle it was filled with a
beautiful, deep blue color. Maybe it is a sapphire?
As Brownbeard slowly shifted the angle of his
glance, the stone’s color changed. Now it was a
delicious light purple. Maybe it is an amethyst?
Now it was a deep blood red. Maybe it is a ruby?
Now it was a vibrant living green. Maybe it is an
emerald? Now it was clear as water from a
mountain stream, flashing points of sparkling light
in all directions. So, maybe it is a diamond?
Whew! Brownbeard could not tell, but he was
confident it could not be glass. Surely it was a
valuable rock. It was as large as his open palm!
“Oh, I’ll be back for you!” Brownbeard
whispered with glee. “If I take nothing else from
this place, you’ll be coming with me.”
Brownbeard, with not a few glances back at the
gem, proceeded on to the bookshelves to see what
the owners of the house liked to read. Very few of
the titles did Brownbeard recognize. Some of the
classics that had been required reading at New
Ferry University were scattered amongst the many
unfamiliar titles. The Histories of Herodotus, The
Daughters of Pelias by Euripides, The Divine
Comedy by Dante, Chaucer’s The Canterbury
Tales, were recognized with a strange mixture of
fondness and dread by Brownbeard.
But far more were the works unheard and unread
by Brownbeard. There was a book of poems by a
Percy Bysshe Shelley, a book about the nature of
dreams and consciousness by a Dali Lama, A
Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur’s Court by a
Mark Twain, The Screwtape Letters by a C.S.
Lewis, The Complete Theory of Quantum Gravity
by Alexandra P. Tabred, and on and on. Such an
eclectic collection. Brownbeard decided to
continue his survey of the castle.
After walking through many interesting rooms,
Brownbeard came to what was by far the strangest
of all. He thought it might be a room for food
preparation, but on the other hand, it did not look
at all like a normal kitchen. There were pots and
pans, ladles and cutlery; but there were many
things that looked like large treasure chests of
strange dimension and weird design. He opened
one and was astonished by a blast of cool air
wafting over him. Inside was what appeared to be
food. Still, he could not be sure.
Reaching in carefully, Brownbeard pulled out a
long package made of soft glass. The glass was
easily bent, but it did not break! Inside the glass
was what looked like bread. Brownbeard’s
stomach growled in anticipation. He turned the
package over and over.
“How do I open this?” Brownbeard wondered.
He fumbled and fumbled with it, but could not
make heads or tails on how to get at the loaf
within. Brownbeard placed the package on a
counter and pulled on his short, stubbly brown
beard.
“I wonder if such rare glass is worth more than
the jewel in the library? It would seem it must be,”
he reasoned. “Yet, would one keep a loaf of bread
in something so precious? Ah, yes! These people
might, being that they are so rich.”
Brownbeard leaned against an island counter in
the large kitchen and regarded the other items in
the big chest keeping magically cold. There
appeared to be other food wrapped in similar
blankets of glass, and liquids kept in bizarre
crystals of green and orange color.
“Well, there seems to be plenty of this stuff in
the chest, so maybe it is not too precious. And I
am hungry. So let us see how we might pry off
this covering.”
Brownbeard drew his sword and held it high
overhead as he prepared to smash this seemingly
impenetrable container and get at the loaf of bread
trapped therein.
“Oh no you don’t Brownbeard!” came an angry
shout from behind.
Brownbeard whirled around, clanging his sword
against the pots and pans suspended over the
island counter.
“And watch what you’re doing with that thing!
Put it down before you wreck my kitchen you
fool!” shouted a beautiful young woman.
Brownbeard gingerly brought his sword down.
“Ah, I’m sorry my lady,” he said.
“Well you should be! Barging into my place as
though a thief rather than a guest! Looking to rob
me and ruin my counter top by trying to hack
through a plastic bag! And look at that! Shut the
door to the fridge! You’re letting all the cold air
out! Listen here, Brownie! If were going to get
along, you’d best behave like a gentleman and not
a Neanderthal.”
“Yes my lady. What is a neeandertall?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Don’t worry about it. Just act civilized,” said
the beautiful lady.
“Yes ma’am,” said an apologetic Brownbeard,
sliding his sword back into its sheath.
“Here,” said the woman as she briskly walked
over to the counter and snatched up the package
with the bread. In a flash, she twisted on some
kind of string that Brownbeard had looked at, but
did not think to work on. Without harming the soft
glass covering, the young woman retrieved two
pieces of brown bread and dangled them before
him. “Surely you don’t just want two plain slices
of bread? Do you? How about a sandwich?”
“Is that when you put stuff into the bread?”
asked Brownbeard.
“What else could it be?” asked the woman.
“Okay,” said Brownbeard. “That sounds good to
me.”
“What would you like? Peanut butter and jelly?
Ham and cheese? Bologna? Turkey? You name
it.”
Peas, nuts, butter and jelly sounded absolutely
disgusting to Brownbeard. He had not realized
how strange the customs and food might become
as he made his way south.
“Um, ham and cheese sounds good,” he said.
“American, Swiss, or Provolone?” the lady
asked.
“Excuse me?” asked Brownbeard.
“What kind of cheese would you like on your
sandwich?”
Brownbeard had never heard of American cheese
before. That must be exotic and yummy.
“I’ll have American,” said Brownbeard.
“Mustard or mayo?” asked the lady.
Brownbeard was not sure what mayo was, but he
liked mustard.
“Both, please,” he answered.
“Lettuce, alfalfa sprouts, onion?”
“Yes, please.”
“Pickle? Potato chips?”
“Yes, thank-you.”
Brownbeard was not sure what the woman meant
by ‘potato chips’, but he was feeling
adventurous—though not for peas, nuts, butter and
jelly! Brownbeard sat down to a delicious
sandwich.
“What would you like to drink? I’ve got juice,
milk, water, soda-pop.”
“Do you have hot chocolate?”
The woman looked at Brownbeard as though he
had asked for a hat full of pig feet and ferret fur.
“Hot chocolate with ham and cheese?” she asked.
Brownbeard shrugged apologetically.
“If it’s too much trouble, don’t wo-”
“No, no, it’s not too much trouble. Weird, but no
trouble.”
Brownbeard frowned. He did not want this most
beautiful girl—the most beautiful girl he had ever
laid eyes upon—to think he was so weird.
“Oh, Brownie, don’t worry,” she said, as if
reading his thoughts. “I know of your fondness for
hot chocolate.”
“You do? How? And how do you know my
name?”
“Well, you may not believe it, but I’ve been
watching you for some time. Don’t be astonished.
There is no way you could have known I was
watching you. Watching and protecting when I
could, though the protecting part was not easy,”
laughed the woman.
The woman put a hot mug of steaming chocolate
before the pirate.
“Wow, that was quick,” said Brownbeard.
“Microwave,” answered the woman, pointing to a
box behind her.
“Oh, okay,” said Brownbeard. “Wow! This is a
delicious sandwich!”
“Thank-you,” said the woman.
“No, I mean it. This is the best sandwich I’ve
ever had!”
“Isn’t it your first sandwich?” asked the woman.
“Well, yes, of course. But I mean I’ve never had
anything this good before. And my mom is a
terrific cook. You make a really good sandwich.”
Brownbeard munched and munched. In no time
flat, the entire sandwich, the potato chips, the
pickle, and the hot chocolate were all gone.
Brownbeard sat back, remembering not to burp.
“Mmmm-mmmm! Thank-you,” said Brownbeard,
wiping the crumbs from his mouth with—a napkin.
And you thought he would forget and use his
sleeve!
The young woman just smiled. Brownbeard’s
heart fluttered.
“So, you know my name somehow, but I don’t
know yours,” said Brownbeard to the lady.
The woman smiled and genteelly extended a
small, graceful hand to her guest. Brownbeard
took her warm hand into his and as they shook, the
woman laughed and said, “My name is Hazel. I’m
a Sand Witch. Sand Witch Hazel.”
bow of his leased ship the For Sale towards the
Equator, making way along the coast of the
southern colonies. His intent was to go past all
that was overseen by the King and into the
dangerous, but rich warm waters of the Caribbean.
With the power of invisibility, Brownbeard had
little to fear from mere mortals. Soon, he would
challenge even his great cousin for title of Most
Loathed Yet Respected of All the Horrible,
Villainous, Throat-Cutting, Thieving Yucks of the
Sea—or the Moly Rahv Throcutys as the well-
known pseudo-acronym goes.
One day whilst still in waters cold and choppy,
Brownbeard observed a coastal island with what
he guessed to be a large home nested beyond the
line of magnolia and oak trees that watched over
the beach. The house seemed rather like a castle,
for the only sign that gave its presence away were
two turrets peeking above the tall trees.
Brownbeard decided that the inhabitants of this
lovely and well-to-do estate should be his first
clients. With that, he dropped anchor and rowed
out to the beach.
Brownbeard’s plan was to make a sneak attack,
finding the most valuable of items in the house
and bring them quietly back to his ship. He
brought with him a sack in which to put the loot. If
necessary, he would make several trips.
Brownbeard thought he might even stay for a few
days and make a thorough inspection of the place
so as not to miss anything of great value that was
not in plain view.
Brownbeard was excited, but not overconfident.
His adrenaline pumped as he dragged his rowboat
up the beach past the high tide mark. His eyes
look this way and that for signs that he was being
observed just in case his invisibility had worn off.
The beach looked to be deserted.
As he entered the thick grove of trees some
distance from the water, Brownbeard could no
longer see the turrets so easily observed from the
For Sale. He headed into the trees in the direction
he thought would take him towards his goal, feet
crunching noisily upon fallen leaves and branches.
Brownbeard felt for the handle of his sword. It
was still there.
After several minutes of walking in as straight a
line as possible, Brownbeard stopped to take a
good look at his environs. He was a bit perplexed.
He was sure that he had walked a good distance
into the wood, and should have encountered the
place he sought. Not much light made it through
the dense canopy above. For an instant,
Brownbeard felt a twang of fear as he thought he
might be lost. His trail was not noticeable. And he
had not thought to drop breadcrumbs as he went
so that he might find his way back. But then he
relaxed, thinking he now saw the path his noisy
boots had stomped.
The forest was a dark and green cathedral.
Massive and solid wooden pillars supported the
verdurous vault above, while thinner wooden
tendrils held up the leafy, flowery artwork that
filled this temple of timber. The trees here were
ancient giants, with roots that meandered like sea
serpents before leisurely plunging into the earth.
These large and wandering roots by their natural
curves and dips provided comfortable places to
sit or recline no matter the size or shape of the
behind. Brownbeard folded into one of these
gnarled, well-formed chairs, deciding to watch and
listen for a moment. Peering deep into the wood,
in the direction he though he should be going,
Brownbeard saw flashes of golden light.
“Ah! Fireflies! Just beginning to come out.”
Then, a large animal, graceful and quick, flashed
across a narrow path in the trees.
“A deer!” Brownbeard thought with excitement.
Then another deer ran across the path, only
somewhat further away and going in the other
direction. Brownbeard picked himself up and
proceeded to walk along the barely perceivable
and narrow path that he hoped proceeded in the
right direction. As he walked, the forest caught
fire with the spark of thousands of fireflies
bursting to light. He turned a full circle in place,
jaw dropping at the spectacle before him. And
numerous deer continued to run back and forth in
all directions. Appearing for only the briefest
instant, these amazing creatures seemed to be
engaging in a game of tag with one another.
Brownbeard did not understand how these large
animals so easily and noiselessly darted through
the trees and undergrowth which made such a
formidable barrier for him to walk through.
At a point on his walk at which he felt he must
be all the way across the island, Brownbeard came
to a clearing in which stood a beautiful castle.
Two tall and slender towers rose to a height of a
hundred feet. Rather than being built of cold, gray
stone, the castle shimmered a soft golden color as
though its walls contained trapped sunlight.
From the edge of the wood, Brownbeard watched
the castle intently, looking for any sign that
someone was about the property, or stirring
within. But the castle just stood in the sun silently.
Brownbeard turned and looked behind him. The
flashes of firefly light had died down and he saw
no more deer. Now the wood from which he had
just emerged looked dark and foreboding; the
castle in the clearing looked bright and
welcoming. Brownbeard cautiously walked across
the well-kept lawn towards a large door. He
decided he would look for a window to climb
through rather than enter what must be the castle’s
main access.
Walking alongside the walls, Brownbeard
noticed that all windows were many feet above the
top of his head, and at no place did there seem to
be as much as a single handhold or foothold upon
which to climb. He came to a window that was
only a couple feet above the fingertips of his
outstretched arms. Leaning against the steeply
sloping wall, Brownbeard ran his hand down the
side of the castle. He jumped back in amazement.
The walls were built of sand! Dry sand! As dry as
dry could be! Where he had leaned upon the wall
remained a gentle imprint of his torso. And where
he had run his hand along the wall were the gently
hewn tracks his fingers had lightly plowed.
Impossible! Such a structure could not stand as
tall as his knee let alone a hundred feet high!
Brownbeard took several steps back to appreciate
the incredible absurdity before him. This must
surely be the largest sand castle in the Universe.
What to make of this?
What to make of this!
What made this?
Brownbeard decided he must make a direct
assault upon the castle. Carefully and quietly as
possible, he tested the front door to see if it was
unlocked. The large door pushed open easily and
noiselessly. Brownbeard stepped into a large
entryway filled with light. Paintings of the sea, of
mountains, of forests, and of places
unrecognizable to Brownbeard, graced the walls.
The entrance to a room that must be the library
was off to one side. Brownbeard could see large,
comfortable looking chairs there. Books filled
shelves covering the walls. To the other side was
the entrance to a room in which a table set with
dishes and silverware and glasses was partially
visible. It looked like the owner was preparing to
entertain a large dinner party.
Directly before Brownbeard rose a large spiral
staircase, guarded by a suit of armor with hands
folded across the handle of a sword. The sword
blade pointed into a slab of marble upon which the
suit of armor stood. Besides the fact the suit was
barely waist high from tip of toe to top to head, it
looked like any other such suit Brownbeard had
seen. The spiral staircase ended high above and
led to an interior balcony, along which were many
large doors. It looked like there were more
paintings and other works of art interspersed
between the doors, the details of which were
washed out by beams of light pouring in through
the windows high above.
Brownbeard turned slowly around to examine the
walls of the place. Yes, even inside they were
composed of sand. He could easily plunge his
fingers, his whole hand even, into the walls!
Grains of sand poured onto the floor as
Brownbeard removed his hand from out of the
wall’s innards.
“I’d best not do that too many times,”
Brownbeard thought, “lest the whole place come
tumbling down!”
Brownbeard decided to tour the place. Treading
quietly as possible, one hand upon his sword,
Brownbeard entered the library. He was
dumbfounded by the number of things all around
that appeared to his untrained eye to be of
considerable value. Brownbeard knew he did not
know how to tell if a certain object was of value
or not on the open market, so his plan had been to
just take everything. But now he realized that this
would be a very large job indeed. Many days of
work slogging things back to the For Sale. And if
the owners of the place were around, even if they
could not see him, surely they would start to
notice things disappearing from their house. He
might possess the advantage of invisibility, but
Brownbeard still did not want to chance any
difficulties. Perhaps it would be best to just select
a few things that appeared to be of the greatest
value. Brownbeard nodded to himself in
acknowledgment of his wise ways.
The library was impressive indeed. Brownbeard
was torn between inventorying the objects with
which the library was decorated, and looking at
the titles of the books. The large
room’s walls were entirely covered with shelves
that went up three stories complete. There was a
ladder for use to reach the books high above your
head.
As he moved towards one of the shelves,
Brownbeard stepped around a small table covered
with knick-knacks. He glanced down and stopped.
“Oh! No! That’s no knick-knack,” breathed an
excited Brownbeard. There, amidst a miniature
tree that looked like a model of one of the island’s
large, ancient oaks and a brass sundial, was a
large gem. It looked to Brownbeard to be a huge
diamond. Maybe. He was not sure.
He bent down to look at the stone a bit closer.
Amazing! From one angle it was filled with a
beautiful, deep blue color. Maybe it is a sapphire?
As Brownbeard slowly shifted the angle of his
glance, the stone’s color changed. Now it was a
delicious light purple. Maybe it is an amethyst?
Now it was a deep blood red. Maybe it is a ruby?
Now it was a vibrant living green. Maybe it is an
emerald? Now it was clear as water from a
mountain stream, flashing points of sparkling light
in all directions. So, maybe it is a diamond?
Whew! Brownbeard could not tell, but he was
confident it could not be glass. Surely it was a
valuable rock. It was as large as his open palm!
“Oh, I’ll be back for you!” Brownbeard
whispered with glee. “If I take nothing else from
this place, you’ll be coming with me.”
Brownbeard, with not a few glances back at the
gem, proceeded on to the bookshelves to see what
the owners of the house liked to read. Very few of
the titles did Brownbeard recognize. Some of the
classics that had been required reading at New
Ferry University were scattered amongst the many
unfamiliar titles. The Histories of Herodotus, The
Daughters of Pelias by Euripides, The Divine
Comedy by Dante, Chaucer’s The Canterbury
Tales, were recognized with a strange mixture of
fondness and dread by Brownbeard.
But far more were the works unheard and unread
by Brownbeard. There was a book of poems by a
Percy Bysshe Shelley, a book about the nature of
dreams and consciousness by a Dali Lama, A
Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur’s Court by a
Mark Twain, The Screwtape Letters by a C.S.
Lewis, The Complete Theory of Quantum Gravity
by Alexandra P. Tabred, and on and on. Such an
eclectic collection. Brownbeard decided to
continue his survey of the castle.
After walking through many interesting rooms,
Brownbeard came to what was by far the strangest
of all. He thought it might be a room for food
preparation, but on the other hand, it did not look
at all like a normal kitchen. There were pots and
pans, ladles and cutlery; but there were many
things that looked like large treasure chests of
strange dimension and weird design. He opened
one and was astonished by a blast of cool air
wafting over him. Inside was what appeared to be
food. Still, he could not be sure.
Reaching in carefully, Brownbeard pulled out a
long package made of soft glass. The glass was
easily bent, but it did not break! Inside the glass
was what looked like bread. Brownbeard’s
stomach growled in anticipation. He turned the
package over and over.
“How do I open this?” Brownbeard wondered.
He fumbled and fumbled with it, but could not
make heads or tails on how to get at the loaf
within. Brownbeard placed the package on a
counter and pulled on his short, stubbly brown
beard.
“I wonder if such rare glass is worth more than
the jewel in the library? It would seem it must be,”
he reasoned. “Yet, would one keep a loaf of bread
in something so precious? Ah, yes! These people
might, being that they are so rich.”
Brownbeard leaned against an island counter in
the large kitchen and regarded the other items in
the big chest keeping magically cold. There
appeared to be other food wrapped in similar
blankets of glass, and liquids kept in bizarre
crystals of green and orange color.
“Well, there seems to be plenty of this stuff in
the chest, so maybe it is not too precious. And I
am hungry. So let us see how we might pry off
this covering.”
Brownbeard drew his sword and held it high
overhead as he prepared to smash this seemingly
impenetrable container and get at the loaf of bread
trapped therein.
“Oh no you don’t Brownbeard!” came an angry
shout from behind.
Brownbeard whirled around, clanging his sword
against the pots and pans suspended over the
island counter.
“And watch what you’re doing with that thing!
Put it down before you wreck my kitchen you
fool!” shouted a beautiful young woman.
Brownbeard gingerly brought his sword down.
“Ah, I’m sorry my lady,” he said.
“Well you should be! Barging into my place as
though a thief rather than a guest! Looking to rob
me and ruin my counter top by trying to hack
through a plastic bag! And look at that! Shut the
door to the fridge! You’re letting all the cold air
out! Listen here, Brownie! If were going to get
along, you’d best behave like a gentleman and not
a Neanderthal.”
“Yes my lady. What is a neeandertall?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Don’t worry about it. Just act civilized,” said
the beautiful lady.
“Yes ma’am,” said an apologetic Brownbeard,
sliding his sword back into its sheath.
“Here,” said the woman as she briskly walked
over to the counter and snatched up the package
with the bread. In a flash, she twisted on some
kind of string that Brownbeard had looked at, but
did not think to work on. Without harming the soft
glass covering, the young woman retrieved two
pieces of brown bread and dangled them before
him. “Surely you don’t just want two plain slices
of bread? Do you? How about a sandwich?”
“Is that when you put stuff into the bread?”
asked Brownbeard.
“What else could it be?” asked the woman.
“Okay,” said Brownbeard. “That sounds good to
me.”
“What would you like? Peanut butter and jelly?
Ham and cheese? Bologna? Turkey? You name
it.”
Peas, nuts, butter and jelly sounded absolutely
disgusting to Brownbeard. He had not realized
how strange the customs and food might become
as he made his way south.
“Um, ham and cheese sounds good,” he said.
“American, Swiss, or Provolone?” the lady
asked.
“Excuse me?” asked Brownbeard.
“What kind of cheese would you like on your
sandwich?”
Brownbeard had never heard of American cheese
before. That must be exotic and yummy.
“I’ll have American,” said Brownbeard.
“Mustard or mayo?” asked the lady.
Brownbeard was not sure what mayo was, but he
liked mustard.
“Both, please,” he answered.
“Lettuce, alfalfa sprouts, onion?”
“Yes, please.”
“Pickle? Potato chips?”
“Yes, thank-you.”
Brownbeard was not sure what the woman meant
by ‘potato chips’, but he was feeling
adventurous—though not for peas, nuts, butter and
jelly! Brownbeard sat down to a delicious
sandwich.
“What would you like to drink? I’ve got juice,
milk, water, soda-pop.”
“Do you have hot chocolate?”
The woman looked at Brownbeard as though he
had asked for a hat full of pig feet and ferret fur.
“Hot chocolate with ham and cheese?” she asked.
Brownbeard shrugged apologetically.
“If it’s too much trouble, don’t wo-”
“No, no, it’s not too much trouble. Weird, but no
trouble.”
Brownbeard frowned. He did not want this most
beautiful girl—the most beautiful girl he had ever
laid eyes upon—to think he was so weird.
“Oh, Brownie, don’t worry,” she said, as if
reading his thoughts. “I know of your fondness for
hot chocolate.”
“You do? How? And how do you know my
name?”
“Well, you may not believe it, but I’ve been
watching you for some time. Don’t be astonished.
There is no way you could have known I was
watching you. Watching and protecting when I
could, though the protecting part was not easy,”
laughed the woman.
The woman put a hot mug of steaming chocolate
before the pirate.
“Wow, that was quick,” said Brownbeard.
“Microwave,” answered the woman, pointing to a
box behind her.
“Oh, okay,” said Brownbeard. “Wow! This is a
delicious sandwich!”
“Thank-you,” said the woman.
“No, I mean it. This is the best sandwich I’ve
ever had!”
“Isn’t it your first sandwich?” asked the woman.
“Well, yes, of course. But I mean I’ve never had
anything this good before. And my mom is a
terrific cook. You make a really good sandwich.”
Brownbeard munched and munched. In no time
flat, the entire sandwich, the potato chips, the
pickle, and the hot chocolate were all gone.
Brownbeard sat back, remembering not to burp.
“Mmmm-mmmm! Thank-you,” said Brownbeard,
wiping the crumbs from his mouth with—a napkin.
And you thought he would forget and use his
sleeve!
The young woman just smiled. Brownbeard’s
heart fluttered.
“So, you know my name somehow, but I don’t
know yours,” said Brownbeard to the lady.
The woman smiled and genteelly extended a
small, graceful hand to her guest. Brownbeard
took her warm hand into his and as they shook, the
woman laughed and said, “My name is Hazel. I’m
a Sand Witch. Sand Witch Hazel.”
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Eighteen - The Sandcastle
Buy yer hard copy
at . . .
at . . .
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That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
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miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
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1633. Brownbeard is
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schools and libraries
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and Baker & Taylor.
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
The
Savannah
Children's
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Festival
Savannah
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