Description of a Pirate

The dense, well matured, overgrown, forest green shrubbery of the mid-Chilean Andes blinded the sun from Perez and his crew. The silent energy of the forest pulsed against its jagged rocky base. Perez’ plod stained white cotton bandana draped over almost all of his shoulder length waves of hair. Only sweat-laden curls twisted their way out from underneath the cloth’s taut confinement, like snakes wriggling out of a fist. His deep brown hair silhouettes his angular face, which looks almost like it is being squeezed up and back onto his high cheekbones, his Caribbean oversized green eyes slanting ever so slightly downward like a tiger looking down off a precipice onto its prey. His nose bent to an oddly sharpened point facing down on his slightly chapped pink small pink lips hidden under the rough stubble which coated his upper lip like a putting green. His hollow cheeks were well worn by the wind, and the wind blew just right as his right foot dug into the boulder’s crevice making him look like a Spanish explorer of old. He was a striking man of about 28, outside he was a survivor, and that made him seem almost glorious, but the danger which creped behind his greedy eyes, made one want to hide. The crew were a mangled bunch of bearded old chums well in their forty’s sea weathered and raimented with canteens of Cuban rum, which dangled rather noisily on their stolen British clothes, and the jewels of their trade. They sauntered up to the hill like ravenous mutts for a fresh steak. Many of them had one eye bright and open the other cocked, as if by doing so they were seeing a whole new world. They looked ready to conquer the world, or rather that they had already done so, and looked to conquer something greater. There was much greed and determination in their eyes, but in all, a sense of tragedy had been written. The stone exteriors of these men protected the past of pain. Suffering was not a part of this society, though many had cause.