Green Eyes on Green Grass

The grass is always greener on the other side. It always seems this way, but why? Step back a think for a minute.

It must be because they water it more. So, that is what you should do, right?

It must be because their grass is more hardy than yours. So, you should get better grass, right?

It must be because their grass gets better shade from the scorching sun. So, you need to protect your grass better, right?

Or it is possible they secretly spray paint their grass to appear better and healthier. When in truth, they have the same grass as you.

Now knowing this potential, ask yourself a new question.

Why do you care so much about grass?

Curator, Captain and Leviathan

*I never thought I would be in this position five years ago. If you'd asked me were I'd see myself I would have said something like 'I don't know, just here taking care of this floating museum.' Just a regular guy doing his normal job.*

Jordan MacCade was a stocky well muscled man but he hid it under his loose practical clothing. His auburn hair he kept cut short for ease of care and safety. Jordan saw a glint under some debris next to the road. He squatted down and brushed it off. He found a can with an illegible label.

*Hah. Figures. More mystery food.*

He squeezed the can and shook it to gauge if air had gotten inside.

*Good. It shouldn't be spoiled.*

He tossed the can in his backpack with a few other food stuffs and some odds and ends he had already collected.

"Excuse me, sir?" A woman asked from behind him.

*Shit.*

Jordan's hand slowly slid to the 9mm pistol on his hip.

*I don't want to waste the ammo lady don't make me use this.*

He stood and turned to face the woman. She was covered in haphazard ragged clothing and she was quite thin.

"Please, sir." She pleaded extending her hands. "I need food for my family. You look well and must have something to spare."

"Tell your friends that I'm not falling for this-" Jordan said as he was interrupted by the barrel of a shotgun being placed in his back.

*Damn.*

"Wrong." A different  woman said behind him, her voice much raspier, like she rolled and smoked everything she could every day. "Just one friend."

"Where is the Leviathan's Good Will?" The ragged woman demanded.

"You know I'm from that ship and you threaten me?" Jordan asked.

"Put your gun on the ground." The raspy woman commanded with a jab of the shotgun. "Then you can take us to your ship Captain MacCade."

*My reputation has gotten around here too...I guess I do need to start scavenging with a escort.*

He unholstered his gun and slowly squatted to place it lightly on the ground.

*This is where you will understand why I am that ship's captain.*

Once the pistol left his hand he drew a knife from his boot. He spun around as he stood using his free hand to redirect the shotgun away from him. His circular step end as the tip of his knife plunged through the back of the raspy woman's neck. The shotgun fired, the ragged woman screamed and blood sputtered from the raspy woman's mouth. Jordan let her body fall and turned his attention to the other woman.

"What did I do to make you two do something this stupid?" Jordan asked as he picked up his pistol and holstered it. He got no response then noticed the shotgun blast had hit her and she was as lifeless as the surrounding landscape.

*****

Captain Jordan MacCade rowed his dingy towards a Sloop. Along the side was the ship's name, 'Leviathan's Good Will'. The wood of the ship was scorched black and the sails stained gray with soot.

*Every time I see her I can't believe the original Little Belt was salvaged and restored. How could I say no to curating a haunted ship museum. I just love how they left it charred and burnt just like the British left her in 1814. She was made sea worthy and they were going to rename her back to the 'Friends Good Will' but I thought it was more fitting for a different name. 'The ship was preserved by the good will of the legendary Leviathan' was my argument and the board of directors liked the sound of it.
Now look at her. Keeping myself and my crew alive after The Great Fallout. the only real ship around the Great Lakes anymore. All the modern vessels were fried by the EMP blasts leaving the waters open and safer than the land, if you know what you're doing. No electronics on this old girl, just rope, wood and tar, old fashioned just like I like my ships.*

"Her breath sets coals ablaze, and flames dart from her mouth." the voice of Benjamin Bradshaw, Jordan's first mate, shouted from the deck.

"Strength resides in his neck; dismay goes before her." Jordan shouted back.

"Welcome back Captain." Benjamin called. "What did you find today?" Ropes were thrown in the dingy and Jordan tied them on.

"Some of the basics." Jordan said. "Food, booze, a shotgun and a large helping of 'you told me so'. No more solo scavenging for me." Benjamin smiled through his thick black beard, grabbed Jordan's hand and pulled him onto the Sloop.