Pineapple On The Doorstep
Part 1 - Pineapple Tale
Pineapple on the Doorstep
I found a pineapple outside my door,
And did not know what it was for.
Was it a gift, and if so, from who?
Or was it a trap, and was it designed to bring me into view?
It’s been seven days without the taste of food, or was it seventeen?
The destination home now stood alone,
The once breathtaking view
Now a gaping coast lined with graves.
It was a week or so I don’t know,
When the sky turned dark
And this place turned mad, with nowhere to go.
New here, and still settling in,
I remember standing by the window
Respecting the view with a sunlit grin.
A boyhood dream, now come true.
A wondrous scene, surrounded by shimmering sea.
An inheritance received from an uncle I hardly knew.
My life of poverty and hardship, now seemingly freed.
The day I opened that letter, life’s noise died.
“My dearest nephew, it is of the gravest news that I present to you
An expected gift.
I have fallen ill, and as a respectful act to your late father, my favorite brother,
I will save you from your misfortunate thrift.”
As you will read, my island estate is now yours,
Included is the deed.
The map I have drawn will chart your course
and inside you’ll find
The coin for a hired hand that will arrive at your door.
1
Rupert peered outside at his doorstep.
It was a bright night on the coastline, no clouds covering the stars and moon.
His eyes fixed upon a ripe pineapple, its leafy crown casting a dark, cape-like silhouette across the polished floor.
As Rupert stared, his taste buds watered while his mind dried.
He couldn’t tell if this was a gift or a trap.
It had been seven days or was it seventeen since he last tasted anything, trapped in his island home.
Something went wrong out there and it was safer to be inside.
Rupert was new to this terrain, only settling in a month prior to this eerie night, all at the bequest of his late uncle that he never knew.
A fateful letter arrived at Rupert’s meager quarters a year before.
The fine paper and royal stamp bewildered its recipient at first, a foreign sight for untrusting eyes.
His father was a captain for hire of great reputation and experience within his world.
His wealth built from the expeditions of legend and lore.
Rupert remembered the taste of salt and the sprinkle of open water from a young age, being birthed at sea.
His mother died at childbirth in a tropical region that did not have a name and that was all he knew.
The letter was pressed with the family crest, a Kraken donning a crown with three jewels.
One jewel for the sea.
One jewel for the crew.
One jewel for the bounty.
Once a flag flown by his great ship that struck fear and wonder, now reduced to a seal of parchment of formality and obscurity, making its way to a stranded son who’s father was lost at sea.
The contents of the letter included a deed, a key, and a message.
“My dearest nephew, it is of the gravest news that I present to you
An expected gift.
I have fallen ill, and as a respectful act to your late father, my favorite brother,
I will save you from your misfortunate thrift.
As you read, you’ll find that my island estate is now yours,
Included is the deed and key.
The map I have drawn will chart your course
and inside you’ll
The coin for a hired hand that will arrive at your door.”
Your Uncle and Your Father’s Keeper,
Uncle Amos Alamode
The clatter of noise inside Rupert’s meager existence stilled as he absorbed the words of a ghost.
No words of his father, Edgar, and yet the contents painted a stark portrait.
Not lost at sea was his father, but instead confined in a cold and dirty grave.
Bitter tears fell upon the parchment as the words burned into his mind, ablaze with the death of a dream.
In the boy’s eyes, Captain Edgar towered with a serene elegance as he walked his deck and ordered his crew.
His speech was thunder and his rage was lightning.
Not a man to be trifled with, yet a leader who others followed.
Now in a tomb without a name.
Rupert sighed and composed himself as he read again.
As he finished this second pass, his fingers felt smooth metal and his eyes caught a shimmer from the depths.
He produced the gold key and coin in awe, dropping the damp note to the dusty floor.
Real gold it was, as his nature was not easily fooled and his memories were hard to forget, as they were all that he had of substance.
The coin and key glistened under the patch of light below his spotted roof and for the first time in decades, Rupert smiled.
I always enjoy hearing theories.
Who do you think left the pineapple, and what do you believe they want from Rupert?
