Sweat streamed in her eyes, trickled down her back causing the woolen shirt to stick wherever it touched. The sun beat down with a rhythm matching the bass drum beaten by the monster in the stern. Worse, the whistle of the whip flew past her, landing on other shoulders and backs, their pitiful groans reminding her what would all too soon be her fate.

All around her men pulled oars, backs burned black from the sun. Faces sucked dry of moisture, eyes deadened with pain. They wondered one thing, why didn’t she rid herself of the encumbrance of shirt, pants and hose. Why continue in this terrible heat fully clothed, baking unnecessarily when all around her were stripped to their skivvies.

They were unaware she was a girl, hidden in boys clothing as a lark she has been ‘pressed as a Galley slave to the Kings service.

Flash in the Pan is brought to you by the amazing Red of M3 fame

This week’s word is Galley. The word limit is 150 words. This one comes in at 147.

Hashtags: #flashfiction #getpublished