Last Survivor: Horror

I was a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of the ship Nasty Nancy, and nobody would hire me again. Either they thought I was a jinx, or they thought I was mad (I'd been foolish enough to tell my story true when I returned), or they thought I was a murdering cannibal, because what other explanation could there be for me being the only one to return aboard a deserted, drifting ship with blood staining the deck? I'd been in jail and interrogated for almost a year until they finally realized that nothing would stick, since they hadn't found me picking my teeth with the captain's shinbone. After I told the truth (mostly), and realized finally that I wouldn't be believed--which I only realized once I'd been allowed to shower and sleep and eat and drink enough water to--well, I don't like phrases like that anymore.


Inspiration: "Barrett's Privateers" - Stan Rogers
Story Potential: High.
Notes: This isn't a story, itself, but it could become a rip-roaring yarn!