The Pirate's Eye

by Guy Bass

“Forget the professor, Stitch Head — you don’t need that crusty old castle-crasher!” said Arabella, trying to cheer him up. “You’ve got your whole almost-life ahead of you! You don’t want to spend it cleaning up after someone who hardly even knows you exist . . . right?”

  But in truth, that was exactly what Stitch Head wanted. He wiped away his tears and got to his feet. “I’m sorry . . . I have to go.”

  “Go WHERE?” asked the Creature.

  “I don’t know,” replied Stitch Head. He hurried out of the courtyard and disappeared into the enveloping gloom of the castle.

  Stitch Head wandered through the castle, feeling more lost and lonely than he had for years. He had no idea where he was going, or what he was going to do now that he was a creation without a master.

  What’s worse, he felt as if he was seeing Grotteskew for the first time. The crumbling, stone walls. The bleak, unlit corridors. The vast, hollow chambers. It all seemed cold and unwelcoming.

  He thought about returning to the dungeons of Grotteskew, far from the other creations, hoping that he might feel like he belonged there. Or at least perhaps the darkness might swallow him up.

  But instead, he found himself in the Forgotten Room, sitting amongst the toys and books and dust.

  Perhaps the professor had been right to leave him there. Perhaps he never should have left. Perhaps this was where Stitch Head belonged.

  He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there. Minutes? Maybe hours? But then he heard a familiar sound.

  “Yabbit!”

  Stitch Head spun around to see Arabella standing in the doorway. Pox was perched on her shoulder, grumbling loudly.

  “Thought I might find you here,” said Arabella. “Ain’t no good sitting around moping.”

  “Please,” said Stitch Head, bowing his head. “I . . . just leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

  “Not a chance,” replied Arabella, sitting down next to him. “My grandma always says the only thing worse than moping is getting your head kicked in by a horse — and she’s done both in her time. You need someone to cheer you up, whether you like it or not.”

  “I really don’t feel like —” began Stitch Head, but Arabella wasn’t finished.

  “The fact is, the professor’s gone. Now you can sit here and wait for him to come back, just like you sat here all them years . . . but he ain’t coming back, and you know it. You’re free! And you’re part pirate! There’s a whole world out there — adventure and treasure and all sorts of stuff — all there for the taking!”

  “I can’t,” replied Stitch Head. “I promised.”

  “Promised what? You can’t protect him if he ain’t here! I told you once and I’ll tell you again — you gotta get out more.”

  “I can’t!” repeated Stitch Head. “Last time I opened those gates the castle nearly fell! I trusted Fulbert Freakfinder because

  I wanted to be something I’m not . . . I’m a forgotten creation and that’s all I’ll ever —”

  “No moping, I said!” snapped Arabella. She grabbed Stitch Head and pulled him toward the window. “I’ve got a surprise for you. See down there? In the moat?”

  Stitch Head peered into the gloom of the dusk. He could see the glistening waters of the castle moat that surrounded Grotteskew. And on the bank . . .

  “Is . . . is that the Creature?” whispered Stitch Head.

  “It sure is! I gave it my key! First time beyond the castle walls, and loving it!” said Arabella, poking her head out of the window. “Hey, Creature!”

  The Creature looked up at the window and gave a happy wave. Arabella gave it the thumbs up. It disappeared behind a large tree.

  “Where’s it going?” asked Stitch Head. After a moment, the Creature reappeared . . . dragging the Gadabout II along the ground behind it.

  “Time you see what you’re missing,” said Arabella. “We’re going to show you the life you could have. A life beyond these walls — a pirate’s life.”

  Stitch Head watched in amazement as the Creature dragged the ship to the edge of the moat. Then, with an almighty shove, it pushed it into the water with a thunderous SPLOSH!

  “A trusty ship!” said Arabella, as the Gadabout II bobbed about on the water. Despite its shape and haphazard strangeness, it looked rather majestic. Perfect, perhaps, for a strange, haphazard pirate.

  It was then the water began to bubble, and the ship bobbed awkwardly. A moment later, it started to sink.

  “OH, NO!” screamed the Creature.

  The Creature jumped in after the ship, without realizing it couldn’t swim. It flailed around a bit before scrambling desperately back to the shore, just in time to see the Gadabout II vanish beneath the water.

  “Huh,” grunted Arabella, as she watched the bow of the ship disappear into the moat. She turned to Stitch Head. “Any chance you didn’t see that last part?”

  “Thank you for trying to cheer me up. I appreciate it, I really do,” whispered Stitch Head. He looked around the Forgotten Room. “But I’m no pirate, eye or no eye. This is my almost-life, here, in the castle. This is all I’ve ever known. It’s . . . it’s all I can imagine.”

  Arabella sighed. “I have to go home,” she said. “But I’ll be back soon, all right? And if you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

  “Thank you,” Stitch Head replied. He watched Arabella leave, and then sat back down among the toys and the books and the dust.

  Stitch Head had been sitting in the Forgotten Room for a few hours, watching the sun set outside the window. At the very moment dusk was about to fall, a crumpled envelope dropped from above and landed next to him. He felt his heart skip. Another letter? he thought. Could it be from the professor?

  He looked up and saw a conspicuous shape peering over the hole in the ceiling. The shape disappeared into the shadows with a giggle, and Stitch Head realized immediately that it was the Creature. What was it up to? Was it some sort of game? He picked up the envelope and opened it, finding a note inside.

  Stitch Head looked inside the envelope. There was a long strip of black cloth, thin at each end but wide in the middle. He took it out and inspected it. At first he had no idea what it could be, but then it struck him.

  It was an eyepatch.

  Stitch Head shook his head. It was far too late for eyepatches, pirates, and adventures.

  Nevertheless, Stitch Head was grateful that the Creature had tried to help — and felt kind of guilty that it had made the effort. He smiled faintly, and then found himself covering his left eye with the eyepatch and tying it around his head. For the first time, he saw the world only out of his ice-blue eye.

  Slowly, the gloom of the castle seemed to fade. The light of dusk was replaced with a bright, white light that seemed to burst through every crack and crevice. The dark, stone walls appeared to melt, and in their place stretched the endless, glimmering ocean. Stitch Head looked up to see the ceiling vanish and reveal the bright, morning sky. It was as if the Forgotten Room had disappeared. In his mind, Stitch Head saw the white crests of the crashing waves, the spiraling light of the afternoon sun, the seagulls soaring above him and singing his name. He felt the warm ocean spray on his face as his grand pirate ship rose and crashed through the water, sailing proudly toward an island filled with untold riches — and adventure.

  “I can see it! I can see it all,” whispered Stitch Head. In that moment, he felt more free than he ever had . . . and he knew he was a pirate.

  Stitch Head raced through the castle, his patch over his eye and his sword by his side.

  “Creature! Creature! I’m part pirate, I can see it now!” he cried, as he hurried down corridor after corridor. He finally found the Creature in a large chamber in the south wing playing a card game with a tin-plated turkey and a wheel-footed wolf-woman.

  “The eyepatch — it worked!” cried Stitch Head. “All I ha
d to do was look at things through Flashpowder’s eye!”

  “GREAT!” said the Creature, not entirely sure what that meant. “I’m SO glad we can FINALLY play PIRATES now!”

  “What’s the point of playing? What’s the point of me staying here at all if the professor has gone forever? And if he’s not here to make any more creations, I don’t have to worry about making any more cures!” replied Stitch Head. He suddenly noticed the other creations in the room. For the first time in his almost-life, he didn’t feel the slightest need to stay hidden.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Stitch Head said with a smile.

  “Interrupt away, my young friend,” replied the wolf-woman. “I have the world’s worst hand of cards, anyway.”

  “Creature, I’m ready!” continued Stitch Head. “I’m ready to sail the seven seas! I’m ready for adventure! We just need to get my ship!”

  “Um . . . I THINK I may have probably DEFINITELY sunk the ship,” said the Creature.

  “Don’t worry,” replied Stitch Head. “I have an idea!”

  For the second time in his almost- life, Stitch Head opened the Great Door and stepped out into the night air. But this time, there was no Fulbert Freakfinder waiting for him on the other side. Stitch Head saw a world of possibilities and adventure. That was the world through a pirate’s eye — the world that Captain Flashpowder must have seen.

  Stitch Head adjusted his eyepatch, and then he and the Creature hurried down to the bank of the moat.

  “Time to call in a favor,” said Stitch Head. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

  It wasn’t so much of a whistle as a strange, wet growl — like a cat farting.

  “Sorry,” Stitch Head muttered. “I’ve never tried to whistle before.”

  “Wait, are you WHISTLING? I LOVE whistling!” boomed the Creature. “The OTHER creations won’t let me DO it because it makes their TEETH fall out . . . the ones that HAVE teeth, that is.”

  The Creature put two fingers from each of its three hands into its mouth — and blew!

  The sound made Stitch Head’s stitches ache. He covered his ears as the whistle rang out through the air.

  “That should do it!” Stitch Head whimpered. He peered into the moat. After a moment, the water began to bubble and churn. Then something slowly started to emerge.

  “The Gadabout II!” cried the Creature, as the ship slowly rose from the depths. “Am I DOING this? Do I have a MAGIC whistle?”

  “I don’t think so . . .” whispered Stitch Head.

  A moment later, the Gadabout II was back on the surface of the water, leaking from numerous gaps in the hull. But it didn’t stop rising until it was completely clear of the water. Wrapped around the base of the hull were eight tentacles.

  “It’s him!” whispered Stitch Head, a smile spreading across his face.

  “Him? Him WHO?” the Creature asked.

  “Him! I mean it! I mean the octo-monster!” Stitch Head stammered.

  “A good evening to you, my fellow creations!” said the octo-monster as it hoisted the Gadabout II out of the water and onto the bank. “I assume you’ve come to collect your sunken vessel.”

  “Thank you, um . . .” began Stitch Head. “What’s your name?”

  “Call me Updike!” the octo-monster said, bowing as much as an octopus can bow. “And it’s the very least I can do to thank you for bringing me to my senses. Enjoy your ship! Although . . . I feel honor-bound to point out there are one or two fairly large holes in the hull. Did you not intend it to float?”

  “It’s . . . a work in progress,” replied Stitch Head, plugging a hole in the ship’s hull with his finger. “But it will float, I promise. Thanks, Updike.”

  Stitch Head and the Creature spent the next few hours getting the Gadabout II shipshape and leak proof. After another, more successful maiden voyage in the moat, Stitch Head was ready to set sail.

  Almost.

  “It’s so far,” whispered Stitch Head, staring out across the moonlit landscape. “The ocean seemed much closer from up in the castle. I’ve barely been outside the Great Door and now look at me! I’m trying to sail a ship to the ocean!”

  “Don’t WORRY, I have everything under CONTROL,” said the Creature. It grabbed the Gadabout II in its two strongest arms. With one powerful heave, it hoisted the ship onto its back.

  “HurRrG!” grunted the Creature. “To the OCEAN! Via ADVENTURE! And Grubbers Nubbin.”

  “Creature . . . you’d do that for me?” Stitch Head asked. “You’d leave Grotteskew? And carry the ship all the way to the sea?”

  “Well, you’re NOT going to be much of a PIRATE without a CRUSTY crew, now, ARE you?” replied the Creature.

  “A crusty crew . . . ?” replied Stitch Head. “You mean a trusty —”

  “I MEAN I want to be a PIRATE, too! I’m SICK of tea parties! I want to go on a GREAT ADVENTURE with my BESTEST friend. What do you SAY?”

  “I say . . . yes!” said Stitch Head.

  “GREAT! We were HOPING you’d agree!” boomed the Creature gleefully. It put two fingers from its unoccupied third hand into its mouth.

  A moment later, Pox swooped down from his perch atop the castle’s parapets, yapping and growling. He landed on the ground next to Stitch Head and hissed angrily in his face.

  “Uh, Creature?” Stitch Head whispered. “I don’t think I need Pox as a trusty companion . . .”

  “It’s not FOR you,” replied the Creature. “Arabella said she’d ONLY come with us if we BROUGHT him along.”

  Under the cover of darkness, Stitch Head, the Creature (still carrying the Gadabout II upon its back), and their not-so-trusty companion, Pox, made the slow trek to Grubbers Nubbin to collect the last member of the crew.

  Stitch Head had always been frightened of the land beyond the castle. It was so wide open — it seemed there was nowhere to hide. But tonight, through his pirate’s eye, the world without walls looked like an adventure waiting to happen.

  They crept towards the outskirts of Grubbers Nubbin, a few dim lamplights still burning in the sleeping town.

  “I hope no one SPOTS us,” said the Creature. “I don’t want to SCARE anyone. Last time I saw my reflection in the water, I SCREAMED for nearly an HOUR.”

  “Ha! I’ve had scarier knee scabs,” said Arabella, stepping out from behind a tree.

  “Swartiki!” yapped Pox happily. He flew toward Arabella, landed on her head, and immediately started chewing her hair.

  “Arabella! How did you know we were coming?” asked Stitch Head.

  Arabella shook her head. “The Creature carrying a ship on its back. I saw that coming from a mile away. I’ve been looking for you . . . I knew you’d eventually come around. So let’s get this show on the road! I mean, sea.”

  “Arabella, are — are you sure about this?” asked Stitch Head. “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Your life here . . . what about your grandma?”

  “My grandma? She don’t even know what day it is. She don’t know who I am half the time,” said Arabella with a shrug. “Anyway, I haven’t had a real adventure in months! So if you’re planning on setting sail, you’d better make room for me and my new pirating boots.”

  Stitch Head smiled broadly. “Welcome aboard,” he said.

  With his trusty crew complete, Stitch Head felt more ready than ever for a pirate’s life. They snuck through the cobbled streets of Grubbers Nubbin and followed the winding road down to the sea. Dawn was beginning to break over the horizon when Stitch Head finally smelled the sharp, salty air of the ocean.

  They had arrived at Grubbers Harbor!

  The sea was even more magnificent than it had been in Stitch Head’s imagination. It stretched endlessly into the distance — a great, gleaming ocean of possibilities. Who knew what kinds of adventures were waiting for him out there?

  “
Okay, men!” Arabella cried. “Let’s get this party started!”

  In the near distance was a circular bay filled with dozens of boats and ships. At the far end of the harbor were several hefty sailors were loading a large ship with cargo.

  Stitch Head and his trusty crew were careful not to be seen as they hurried down to the bay, then scurried along a wooden dock that jutted out into the sea. As soon as they reached the end of the dock, the Creature hefted the Gadabout II off its shoulders and deposited it in the water.

  “It floats!” the Creature cried happily. They all watched the ship bob in the water.

  “Don’t just stand there, landlubbers!” said Arabella.

  She jumped into the ship. The Creature followed, taking up almost the entire deck. For a moment, Stitch Head paused.

  “Hoist the middle mast!” he finally cried, leaping aboard. He grabbed the ship’s wheel and did his best to steer it straight as the tide carried them out to sea.

  “We did it,” cried Stitch Head, looking back. In the far distance he could just make out the distant spires of Castle Grotteskew. “Onward . . . to adventure.”

  He used his pirate’s eye to glance out at the sea, and felt the chilly air whistle past his ears. It sounded like a voice, as if the ocean itself was whisper secrets to him.

  “Unhand me, you fiends!” the wind seemed to cry out. Oddly, Stitch Head though the ocean breeze sounded a lot like his master.

  “I said, unhand me! I’m too important to be manhandled!” the wind whispered again.

  “Master . . . ?” Stitch Head whispered, certain he heard the professor’s voice.