The Death of Albert Spark - Story
Author Reyes De Luz
Illustrator None
Publication date December 30, 2013
Published by Sparkle Publications
Publication Order
Preceded by
Followed by

Author's Note

I did not really want to write this at first. I felt like it was not a good idea. But then I realized it might bring me closure in a way I don't think anyone will ever understand but just will. Call me psychotic and weird, but it's true. Though I already am those things.


El Chapitel they called it. Smugglers just loved using it back when Raven's Cove was nothing but its original colonization. Few know where it is now. It was re-discovered on one of Spark's Expeditions going West of Raven's Cove to find more land in the Caribbean, out of curiosity that is.

"The Spire" translated from Spanish. It was nothing but a rock spire in the middle of choppy ocean. And if one were to find him anywhere, it was here. The affairs of the European Powers were focused up north where the English Colonies were fighting for Independence in this year of 1777, and it is the perfect place for him to hide from all of what he went through in Europe, not bothered, untouchable by those who may beg for his return once more. Those he served with, influenced him, know fathers and mothers of, is related to, married and divorced... to hide from the world and its cruelties, living out his days.

Part I - The Psychotic Barriers

"FOR THE REPUBLIC!" he cried out. The helmsman and another man without an eye were with some rebellious force in the Caribbean to unify it as a country while the powers were fighting their stupid battles up north. He chuckled as they planted their flag, a large blue banner with a tree as its center piece. "You realize one day this will mean something? Ha ha haaaaa, we will be in the history books! REDISCOVERERS OF EL CHAPITEL!" he cackled with his partner, they were much like a Pintel and Ragetti pair.

"I wouldn't think it would be a wise decision to claim another's domain, especially one of such high importance and of course high authority, despite his psychotic self." a British accented voice said. A Blue Coat, what many of those up north reference the Americans as, his brown hair tied back with a tricorn atop it. "Even if it is for a cause he would support" He finished his sentence with a smile and looking at the two. The two slowly took down the flag, crushed by the possibility of going down in the books of taking a long lost island.

The island though actually had very flat land and was wide, though still small. It is impossible to see as waves in the choppy area it is dominate it. The Blue Coat approached me, "Madam, what are we looking for now that we are here? There is nothing here to find as far as one can see." he asked. I looked out where there was the spire piercing the dark sky. Looking back at him I responded smiling, "You'll see. You will". The wind went through my hair as I began to walk towards the main feature of the isle.



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