by Tracy Davidson
Redbeard chose the wrong island to plunder, his ship the first to find it in decades. No sealife swam near, no bird flew over. No human walked its streets.
Redbeard’s first mate was first to die, skin shredded by invisible talons. The second was turned inside out, intestines wrapping around a third’s neck, squeezing until it snapped.
Another disintegrated into atoms.
Redbeard’s men scattered in panic, swords raised. But blades were useless against invisible enemies.
They all fell. Until only Redbeard remained.
Unlike his men, Redbeard saw his fate. Rabid dogs feasted on his flesh.
The island vanished once more.