Captain Barnacles の小説・ストーリー

"Last night was... a mistake," Alexander said. He walked over to the bed, picking up his watch. His hands were shaking slightly. "It was the adrenaline. The stress. I had too much to drink." "You were sober, Alex," Oliver corrected him gently. "We both were." "Don't call me that," Alexander snapped. He finally looked Oliver in the eye. "I am the captain of the New York Glaciers. I have a reputation. I have sponsors. I can't... I can't do this."

Oh my God. It dawned on me at that moment… Lucas already lost the captain's title… There's no way Coach is letting Kianeffing Maddox go. “Everyone gather around.” The coach's voice came as he hugged Scott, “That's my boy. I am really proud of you.” “And to everyone on the team. We have our new MVP and captain of the team. Kian Maddox.” The coach announced. The rink erupted with cheers and whistles. Lucas threw his helmet on the floor, getting everyone's attention.

It felt like worn leather. "Captain Elias Vance," the man introduced himself, extending his hand. "Retired. I sailed container ships for Roberts Global for forty years. Knew old man Roberts. Knew Clark when he was a boy following his father around dockside warehouses, getting his good shoes dirty." The image was so out of place with the billionaire standing before them that Jonah could only stare. "I don't think I can picture that."

I’m the football captain but The dean rarely calls except it’s important. After dressing up in my jersey, I honored the dean call and the reason why he called was to inform me that the coach wouldn’t be coming so I have to take the team for the training section. “Why can’t she come. Is she okay?” Curiosity got the best of me and I asked without thinking. Shit! I mentally shot myself. “Hmmm...” the dean folded his arm giving me an amusing look. “Since when did captain Sabastian begin to care about people huh?”

Silas Marwood, the vile loan shark, was planning something unspeakable. Victor, the captain of the Supreme Vikings Confraternity, stood defiant despite the blood pooling around his fallen men. His red beret, adorned with the gold-plated “Eight Legs of Odin,” tilted slightly as he barked, “I’m the seventh captain of the Supreme Vikings, co-founded by Baron Cassian! Lay a hand on me, and your entire family, your generation, everything you hold dear will be obliterated!” His voice quivered, betraying his fear, though he masked it with indignation. The name Baron Cassian, a titan whose mere mention made men kneel, had always been his shield. It worked every time—until now.

I felt sorry for him, being a captain of a great football team entails a lot of responsibilities, commitment and expectations from what I've seen. "I really admire your strength and like you said 'you won't trade it for anything' So just keep doing your thing and enjoying it, cause there comes a time when you can't do it anymore, and I'm sure you won't regret it, okay?" I tried to be comforting and encouraging which I'm not good at. Ugh. I hope I made sense though. "Yea. Listening to you speak is a good feeling too" he said which made me smile and I felt a little hopeful

Alexander looked at the captain, slightly puzzled, and asked. These thugs were dead, and there was no one left to harm them. They should have been happy. The captain, still staring at the corpses, stammered, "How... How can you say that? They were still people..." What a headache! After all this time, the captain had caught countless whales but was surprisingly compassionate toward people. If Alexander had not appeared, Macy's fate would have been sealed, and the captain and his crew would likely have been killed. At this moment, the cormorant seized the opportunity to step forward and accuse him. "They all came for you, troublemaker! Get off our fishing boat."

Inciting another aggravated bellow from below the hull, the tentacle then retired into the water’s depths once more. A moments calm passing, it was interrupted as the Captain scoffed, “Heh, those guys must have been spinning fishing tales! It’s hardly worth even mentioning.” Relaxing at the wheel again, Allen noticed his partner still remained on edge. Her sharp eyes observing where the creature’s tentacle had slipped under the water’s surface, Chiri passed no remark on the Captain’s foolhardy optimism.

The deckhand gets up from his stool and places two of his own coins by the empty bottle and just like that they take their leave. A few hours have passed and through the visage of the darkness that surrounds Port Bel; a shimmering streak of moonlight seeps through. The light is just enough to leer both of the captain’s eyes and her right hand’s view to see the barn that was on the outskirts of the city. The red paint that covers the old and rotting wood looks like the wind could scrape it off. Truly the established showed its age when a draft picks up and part of the barn doors move in tangent with the wind. A chain that keeps the doors closed rattles and since the metal is rusted it hits th