The Devil in the Detail
Atticus Van Tasticus sank deep into his hammock chair as the rhythmic creak and groan of The Grandnan rocked him somewhere near sleep. The sun was up, the wind was down and things were pretty near perfect.
How good is piratin’?! the ship seemed to sing. It was the ropes and sails pulling against the timbers of his very own ship. ‘How good is Piratin’?!’ whispered Atticus.
Gulls squawked as they wheeled in the sky, and there was the occasional piggish grunt coming from somewhere. Atticus liked the idea it was a flying pig, but guessed it was a puffin looking for love.