Dear James

Dear James,

I know this letter will confuse you. I am confused as well even as much as I have observed, I still do not comprehend what my existence is now. Know that I have not written this letter to articulate the invisible world around us. I am dead, that much is true, somewhere in the deeper water of the eastern coast. These words were never meant to reach you, not at all. Ink never suppose to meet paper, as it is forbidden for us to interfere in the lives of the living

I write this to you despite rules—however, I seldom follow rules, correct? I write this because I loved you so dearly. It was an excruciating burning in my lungs. No, not the first time I endured the harsh under-surface of the ocean I loved dearly. It was always inevitable don’t you think? I confess I’d rather perish to the sea than any other way, but know as grim as that may seem, many privateers do.

In that moment of suffocation, through the blur of the salt water in my eyes, I knew all I regret. I knew my rage as I have never felt it before. Was betrayal also inevitable when one deals with pirates? Truthfully, I do not know, my dear. As the last of my breath left me, all the wealth in the world could not save me. No, it pulled me down. A weight to sink me further into the abyss. My last thoughts weren’t coherent, but I know I thought of you. I feared whatever fate they would throw you to. To be as cruel as mine, they would send you to the justice where you would be executed.

Yet, here I write this letter to you, dear James.

Perhaps you think your luck merely blind stumbling through fate but know I have orchestrated this. I find death has a reach farther than I once thought. Had I known as a living man what I do now, I would have gone mad.

I had my revenge as I desired. The men I once called family are dead. Their death goes beyond the separation of the soul from body as I saw fit—and with such ability to do so, I could not let such an opportunity pass. So, for you James, I leave you this letter and worldly riches that you may enjoy the finite time left for you. Never want, especially not for myself. I have left this world and you, but I know I took no happiness or joy from you in my departure.

I know we will see each other again. I do not know when, but know whatever fear spurned of the burning question of the eleventh hour grips you, I will be there.

Love, Nathaniel