ONE pirate is might, strong and tough
Carrying his bounty, billions of piracy
Ahoy! Ahoy! Dreams are for the timeless
And ships are for the limitless
And that one pirate has it all!

Steps forward, walking towards the loud and soulful tavern, a young boy sang along in his head the joyous pirate song he used to hear in their town. There was a lamp in his hand, serving as a guide to not step on the creamy soil of the muddy road.

Their island had just been visited by a huge storm yet it didn't even last three days before the people started to gather around again, celebrating and playing cheerful music as if there were no disasters that had happened.

He reached the door of the tavern. Three knocks he made but no one opened the door for him, so he decided to open it himself.

"Hoist! Hoist! The colors of dreams, of treasures, of adventure!" The chorus of the song greeted him as he stepped his feet inside.

The inside of the tavern was more chaotic than he imagined. Tables on the left were turned upside down, drinks on the floor flowing like flood because the drunkards confused the bottom as the mouth of the glass, and musicians, drunk as well, but still slayed the instruments like gods.

A small groan let out from his mouth when someone stepped on his long black hair.

"Sorry, little boy!" said the lady with funny hair, her dress was dirty and messy.

He looked at the other side as he continued to walk. The dancing couples glided along to the music like there were no tomorrow. Some were playing games and only a few were casually talking.

Despite the differences between their businesses, all of them were singing the song.

"Merry humans," he commented while he watched their joyous faces.

They say happiness could be easily passed down to other people, but what could be the reason his lips didn't even curve a smile?

When he reached the counter, a small voice whispered in his ear the name of the man in the counter, telling him he was the owner of the tavern.

"Hello, Mister Arold," he greeted the owner.

"Pleasant evening, ain't it, boy?" His mustache in cursive moved as the owner spoke. Mister Arlord was huge; arms like a liquor barrel and the body of a whale. When he glanced at his round and bloated stomach, curiosity fed his mind. Would it bounce if he stepped on it?

"What is a pleasant evening, mister? Every night seems to be the same to me." He put the lamp on the counter and sat on the stool. "Do you have bread and milk? Can I have some? I'm pretty starving."

"Sure, little one." Mister Arold smiled and got him bread and milk.

His stomach had been grumbling after his mother told him to wait and not move in front of a store in the market. Two hours had passed but his mother hadn't returned and he was already starving, so he decided to leave and feed himself.

"Do you have money, boy? We don't sell bread and milk here, but I still won't give this to you for free."

"I don't, but my mama has. She will come find me soon, so don't worry." And drank his milk.

Not even a single speck of bread he left and ate them all. He was full yet he didn't feel any satisfaction.

"Hey there, little boy . . . or are you a girl?" A drunk guy sat beside him.

"I'm a boy."

"Your hair is really, really long." He touched the strands of his hair. He just let him and stared at the drunk man. "How long does it take you to comb this?"

"I don't comb."

"You don't?!" he shouted, shocked by what he said but then chose to laugh after. "You're funny, kid. I suggest you cut your hair short."

"I don't have scissors."

"I do." In his pocket, he pulled out a scissor. "Tada!"

He was playing tricks with the scissors in his hand, but he just stared at him with his black orbs unimpressed.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I am a great barber in town. Do you have any style you prefer?"

"None."

"Then, just leave it to me!" The drunk guy who claimed to be a barber jumped out of the stool, grinning like an idiot while going to his back.

"Can I really get a haircut?" he asked.

"Of course. Trust me," the barber replied, but the question wasn't really intended to him.

The question was for his small companion laying on top of his shoulder. It was in the shape of a lion but with scales. Its body was surrounded with black smoke and he was the only one who could see it.

"He's a thief." The creature whispered. It was also the creature who told him the name of the owner.

"I'll cut it now." The clashing metals from the scissors echoed around his hair.

He waited for the man to cut his hair but he didn't feel any movement. Instead, he heard a loud thud from his back.

He looked back and checked the man. As he expected, he died.

"It seems I can't get a haircut." He grabbed his lamp and went down from the stool.

No one noticed the guy because everyone was busy having the time of their lives. No one. Except for one.

"Hey, boy!"

He turned to see Mister Arold. "What?"

"What did you do to the man? And your payment?" asked Mister Arold, shifting his gaze each second to the man, then to him.

"He died, Mister Arold. And Mama will pay for the bread and milk." He looked away and headed to the exit.

"What? He died?!" Mister Arold shouted. Except for his huge size, he also had a voice of a roaring thunder, making the people stop in what they were doing. The music halted and everyone gazed at the owner.

"What do you mean he died? D-did you do something? Did you kill him?!" He slammed his hand on the counter.

The merry people shifted their eyes to his. Some were curious and some were shocked after they recognized him.

"Oh, grims of the seas! What is that boy doing here? That boy is the owner of the dead ship!" A lady with her tiny voice squeaked, fear was written in her face.

"I don't think I killed him," he replied to the owner, voice monotonous. "I, also, don't think I didn't kill him."

After he said those, five to ten people, including the lady, ran immediately outside the tavern while others were panicking and shouting at him. He couldn't distinguish each one of their voices but the curses dominated their mouths.

Loud. Too loud. But it didn't annoy him. Despite their angry curses, he felt nothing.

One man came rushing towards his direction while carrying a chair. His face in red and his eyes in tears were glaring at him. He was going to slam it in his head.

He closed his eyes as the wooden chair broke above his tough skull. Blood immediately came out from his head and flowed down like a waterfall in his face.

But still, he felt nothing.

"Are you his friend, mister?" he asked the man who was now staring at him with confusion.

"H-how are you still standing-ack!"

The panicking chaos increased when the man suddenly lost his breath and laid down on the ground, eyeballs shut in white.

"Get that kid!"

"Kill him!"

"What is he?"

"He's cursed!"

He didn't mind them and turned once again to the direction of the door. His hand became itchy so he fastened his walk. This is going to get bad. He was only supposed to eat in this tavern but his mind had now been calling him to do something else.

As much as he wanted to stop it, the growing appetite inside was waking his desires. He wanted to devour everyone.

Putting down the lamp on the ground, he looked at the people. The pirate song played again in his head as he walked towards them again, his black robe bouncing against his tiny feet. As they approached their direction, his hand became more itchy, wanting to get ahold of its prey.

And the prey were the merry people.

"I'm sorry. I only came here to eat the side dishes but my body is wanting to swallow the main course." He licked his lips.

The crooked desire had finally overtook him.

Minutes later, he reached for the lamp again and walked outside of the tavern. His hands were wet with red viscous liquid.

"Hoist, hoist the colors of dreams, of treasures, of adventures," he sang the pirate song in a low voice as he went back to the place where his mother left him.

The loud tavern had now been turned into a silent night. No more drunkards, musicians and dancing couples.

He was completely full thanks to them. It was a good dinner.

And yet, he still felt nothing.