Praying for Petrichor, a pirates of the caribbean fanfic

The salt air caresses my face and washes the sleep from my eye as I sleepily stumble to the helm to take my turn at the wheel. This is my favorite part of the day. Most of the crew are still abed and dreaming of wenches and rum.

"Ragetti."

I nod my head in greeting. "Bones."

"Quiet night, it's been here. Not much a wind blowing," Bones informs me in a whining voice. "Red sky at night, sailors delight, my arse."

"You've got it all wrong, Bones. Last night the sky was purple, not red. Well, actually it was more of a soft mauve dusted with shimmering speckles of silver clouds. That being the case, the truism is moot."

I watch as Bones tries in vain to decipher my words. As is the case with most of my fellow pirates, Bones is an uneducated man. Simple. Dull witted, if truth be told. About the only one who ever really understood my conversation twas Captain Sparrow. I miss the Captain. It were a twice cursed day that we once again betrayed him. We'd not had single day's luck since abandoning him in Tortuga.

Bones gives up the intellectual struggle and mumbles something about me having only one eye and not being able to tell me own colors. With a grunt to signify goodbye, he shambles off. I savor the peace he leaves behind.

If I ignore the young boy in the crow's nest, I can pretend as if only The Pearl and I exist. By squinting my eye and staring out at the horizon, I temporarily create the illusion that I am floating amongst the stars. I'm no longer a deckhand on a beat up pirate ship. I'm the captain of my own ship – a gleaming vessel sailing through the skies. Worlds await my discovery. Worlds filled with more treasure than even I can imagine. The glittering stars are really diamonds that I scoop into my hand and pocket for later. I'll sail through the heavens and gather up enough riches to keep me happy through my old age.

A few minute's pleasure are all I enjoy before a rising tide of melancholia washes over me. I miss Captain Jack. I miss Pintel. I even miss that old curmudgeon Barbosa. But most of all, I miss land. It's been months that we've been sailing with not a spit of earth to be found. Day after day and night after night of calm seas and clear skies are beginning to take their toll. We've sailed and sailed and sailed and yet seem no further afield than we were months ago when we encountered Blackbeard.

I feel a dampness on my cheek and realize that I've started to cry. Right now, I'd gladly exchange my star diamonds for rain and the smell of dirt after a deluge. My tongue darts out to capture a tear and I savor the taste of my own despair. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. If we don't make port soon, that will be our fate. I feel as if I am drowning, suffocating behind my sorrows. I can't breathe. Now the product of my weeping is coursing down my face to drench my clothing.

Wait a minute! It's raining! It's raining! The rumble of thunder makes its music for my ears. I begin a jig of pure joy and, as I twirl about, I stumble and fall to the deck. I lay there winded but joyful.

Gradually the euphoria begins to ebb and I awaken to find myself tumbled out of my bunk and splayed upon the floor. There is no rain, only my own sweat and tears. The thunder is naught but the snores of the crew. Wearily I stumble to the helm to take my turn at the wheel. This is the part of the day that I loathe. The time when I realize yet again that I am on a ship. On a ship in a bottle. On a ship in a bottle in a cabinet owned by Blackbeard. And there is no rain or land or escape to be had.

This is written for the The Domain's challenge.

Prompt: Dreams (good or bad)

Requirements are:

must be a oneshot;

- must contain a minumum of 500 words;