Chapter 1
story by Emma Dennis, illustration by Katie James
I can see the horizon as we draw nearer to Port Royal’s Main Bay, our home harbour. The bright sun beams down upon the clear sparkling blue Caribbean Sea, with each small wave catching the light and dancing with the sunlight in its grasp. It glimmers, sparkles, shimmers. It’s such a beautiful sight to wake up to every morning, living under British rule at Port Royal on the high seas. I’m lucky. Most people from the mainland will never see this in their entire life.
I look over at my best friend, Christopher, and I see him staring out at the same, beautiful ocean. A small smirk spreads across my face as I nudge his side.
“Race you!” I yell, as I sprint down the street, and people scurry to get out of the way.
“Hey!” Christopher calls. I can already hear his feet pounding on stone. Within seconds of taking off, I can already see him in my peripheral vision, running with the same old grin on his face. He’s so competitive. But then, he has always been that way, ever since we were kids; back when I would always win. I guess age has slowed me down.
“What happened to the days when you were faster than me, Kida?” He yells. I can feel him smirking as he gains on me.
I can see the horizon as we draw nearer to Port Royal’s Main Bay, our home harbour. The bright sun beams down upon the clear sparkling blue Caribbean Sea, with each small wave catching the light and dancing with the sunlight in its grasp. It glimmers, sparkles, shimmers. It’s such a beautiful sight to wake up to every morning, living under British rule at Port Royal on the high seas. I’m lucky. Most people from the mainland will never see this in their entire life.
I look over at my best friend, Christopher, and I see him staring out at the same, beautiful ocean. A small smirk spreads across my face as I nudge his side.
“Race you!” I yell, as I sprint down the street, and people scurry to get out of the way.
“Hey!” Christopher calls. I can already hear his feet pounding on stone. Within seconds of taking off, I can already see him in my peripheral vision, running with the same old grin on his face. He’s so competitive. But then, he has always been that way, ever since we were kids; back when I would always win. I guess age has slowed me down.
“What happened to the days when you were faster than me, Kida?” He yells. I can feel him smirking as he gains on me.
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