Photo credit: Chesire Joe
Chesire Joe was a beloved pirate. His presence was one of infallible warmth, love, and kindness. He was a true treasure of a man; incredible through and through. Infamously funny and a storyteller of the highest caliber. Beloved by all who crossed his path.
One day, Cheshire Joe received an orange upon entering the village. He had no desire to eat it, nor could he find any use for it. He did his very best to pawn the thing off to another unwilling bystander. Unable to rehome the fruit, it instead became his companion. The orange became known by the name of Chester Nutmeg.
As the story goes, Chester Nutmeg had been cursed for a drunken transgression which transfigured him into an orange. Cheshire Joe brought his accursed mate on many an adventure throughout the years to the amusement and joy of many.
Chesire Joe took great care of his fellow buccaneer. There was but one instance where Chester Nutmeg nearly met his demise. It was the day he encountered the Dizzy faerie.
Long ago, in a distant realm...
A cool day unfolded its magic in the village, casting a gentle spell on the damp streets. The overcast sky lent a soothing palette to the scene, where the vibrant colors of handmade wares and storefronts seemed to glow with a subtle radiance.
The village cadence was a tranquil symphony wrapped in a serene hush. I was taking a leisurely stroll through the market, offering my greetings and well wishes for the day ahead to the villagers. Many had become good friends over the years. I stopped outside a stall of leather goods, the wooden sign above adorned with mystical celestial symbols. I playfully engaged with the craftsman as he went about his work.
"Dizzy!" The very air seemed to vibrate with a deep, rumbly voice that carried a familiar lilt and rum slurred swagger. I turned excitedly towards the source of the sound.
"Good morning!" I exclaimed with pure delight as I spotted my favorite storytelling pirate, Cheshire Joe, sauntering towards me. My wings fluttered in excitement. His figure, adorned with an assortment of trinkets and draped in a coat with more stories than fabric, painted a vivid picture of a life well adventured. Eager to express my joy, I leapt up, wrapping my arms around his broad, weathered frame. After a long, warm embrace he set me gently back on the ground.
"Take this," Cheshire Joe said as he placed an orange in my glittering hand.
"What shall I do with it?" I asked curiously, rolling the fruit playfully between my palms, unsure if it was a gift for me or to hold temporarily as he fished a camera from depths of his worn satchel.
"Whatever you want, mate," he replied sweetly from behind the lens. The casual response teased me with mischievous possibilities.
With nary a thought, I surrendered to my first instinct. A giddiness bubbled within me in anticipation as I opened my mouth wide and dared to take a bite, sinking my teeth into the bitter flesh. As the citrusy burst enveloped my senses, a symphony of flavors danced on my taste buds, enhanced by the pleasant aroma that floated in the air. The spontaneous act became a sensory celebration, a fleeting but delightful bright moment on a gloomy morning.
"No! No! Don’t eat ‘im!" Cheshire Joe's exclamation cut through the air in surprise. He sighed with a bemused chuckle, shaking his head as if he should have known better.
It was then Cheshire Joe regaled me with the tale of Chester Nutmeg. We then set out on an adventure to heal dear 'ol Chester Nutmeg who lived to enjoy many more adventures.
To the stars that now hold your light, greetings across the cosmic expanse.
I miss you dearly, my sweet friend.
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