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By Sara Ray

Slowly up the mass he’ll rise, taking passing ships with great surprise. His face is frightening beyond belief, with his pale complexion and patch covered eye.  Young maidens weep and small children cry, while high above the lightning sky, grinning sheepishly while brave men die. Although he’s frightening, yet not alive. He is protected and very much respected. You may know him as death himself but to me he’s so much more. Pirates call him the mighty Jolly Roger.

 

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