Chapter 1: I wish my life were simple
Hey people! This is my first Fanfic, so please comment!
Disclaimer: I don't own PotC, even thought they are not mentioned……….. Yet!
"Oi! You! Get back here!" A voice behind me yelled
I continued running.
"Where are you going?" The voice yelled, sounding closer.
I clutched the loaf of bread to my chest and pushed forward to the wood in front of me.
"We ain't got all night" The voce moaned, out of breath.
I continued running and hid behind a tree, waiting for a time to attack
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way" The voice growled, sounding about a yard behind me.
I grabbed a stone that was on the ground of the wood, and stepped in front of the tree, as swiftly and quietly as I could.
"Oh, shut it!" I said while I threw the rock at him. It bounced off his head and landed into the ground. I sneaked over to see how he was. He had a bump on his head but no permanent damage. I propped him up against a tree. Whew that was close! Clare, you should be more careful next time, I thought. I sneaked back into the wood and no sooner than I thought I was home free, I was caught by the collar of my dress.
"Well, well. What have we got here?" Said a mans voice, while I was scrambling to get out of his grip
"Nothing" I said quickly
"Really? Than who are you?" said the voice. I turned to see him. He was tallish, had brown hair, hazel eyes, and was wearing a red military uniform. I scowled, because I realized that I was caught by a solider. One of the reasons I hated Port Royal.
"I am Charlotte O'Brian. I got lost to the way of my Grandmothers house, and she is terribly ill. So please jus-"I said calmly
The solider shook his head "The O'Brian's don't gotta daughter named Charlotte and they have no other family in Port Royal" He hissed.
"How do you know my Grandmother moved here because Ireland is having a potato shortage and Charlotte is my nick-"
He coughed and interrupted me again "Because we just been alerted that a girl your height, your brown hair, and your green eyes, was stealing bread from a local tavern near by." He said, coolly.
"You are accusing ME?!?!" I said, using my best astonished voice
He gestured to the bread "Where did you get that? Baked it at Grandmother's house?" He sneered
"It's a gift for Grandmother." I said calmly
"We also been alerted that a orphan with the same description has escaped from Troller's Orphanage about an hour before the bread was stolen" He said squinting his eyes
"I am NOT an orphan!" I yelled. This solider was getting me mad, his questions where like the ones adopters asked me.
The solider sneered, as if to say Yeah right and dragged me back to Troller's. I was squirming and kicking all the way
We got to the orphanage door and the solider knocked. Soon, a greasy looking man opened the door. His hair was only a few graying brunette tufts that were everywhere. His eyes were greedy, squinted and black. He smelled of smoke and rum which matched his crooked teeth.
"Clarice! Your back!" He said. I scowled as he harshly hugged me. He smelled horrible as usual, and was crushing me, on accident.
"Thank you so much for bringing my girl home." He said, wiping the fake tears in his eyes.
The solider nodded "Not a trouble, sir."
No sooner then when the door closed, Troller grabbed my shoulders and shook me until my brain rattled.
"I thought I told you no running away, you useless wench" he spat.
"Get your filthy hands off me!" I yelled.
"I ain't gonna, you little brat! You are banned from meals tomorrow, you will not have your walk around the island, and I want that bread you stole. Since you are banned from meals I don't want you to eat anything for the next 24 hours" Troller said.
"NO! I got it, I keep it!" I said. He slapped me and it stung
"Give it, you little piggy" He said, raising his hand to give me another slap.
"Fine, here is your bread!" I said trusting it to him, wishing I had eaten some on the way there.
"Get to bed, Brat, before I get even angrier." Troller said.
I went up the stairs and into the girls sleeping room and quietly got into my bunk. I just laid there, tears in my eyes from getting another taste of freedom before it being yanked from me, again. Every time I came back, Troller got angrier and I got more punishment. At least he didn't put me in the cellar or beat me, like he usually did. I was lucky tonight, but I knew I wouldn't get any sleep, because the whole room was whispering about me.
Now, Troller's was a large, two-story, grey building and everyone's attitude was the same color of the building. There are two sleeping rooms, one for boys and one for girls, which looked exactly the same. There is also a sleeping chamber for Troller, though no one has ever gone in there unless they were in extreme trouble. I know the room like the back of my hand. Each sleeping room had one tiny bathroom with a chamber pot, pitcher with water, a bowls, 3 hair brushes, a wooden tub, and an interesting case of mold in the corner. The dinning room was a large room with about ten wooden tables and wooden benches surrounding them. People I met on my daily walks told me to count my blessings that I am in a place that supplies me food (if you would call it that), a warm bed (Bed? Sure. Warm? Not so much) and a roof that was over my head (It was breaking apart, and if Troller doesn't get it fixed in about two years, we would have no roof). I have had lived outside for a week once and its not that bad. If I had a choice, I would trade Troller's to Wilderness in a minute.
I didn't get a lot of sleep the night before and when it was time to go for breakfast (which I was banned for) I didn't bother to get up.
"Clare! Get up sleepy!" a boy's voice called. I turned and saw a boy about six years old, with blonde hair, warm brown eyes, freckles, an elflike face, and a big toothy smile.
"Hello Itchy." I said, smiling. Itchy and I have been friends since he was given that nickname by me. He came round to the orphanage when he was three, and soon after he had a case of the chicken pox. I had to take care of him. He got his nickname because he was always asking me to scratch his poxes. Thank God I didn't get the pox, but Itchy and I have been friends ever since.
"Let's go have breakfast!" Itchy said, trying to pull me out of bed.
"Itchy! I can't, 'cause Troller banned me from meals." I said.
His face dropped. "Oh, okay." He started to trudge out of the room and I went up to him.
"Itchy! Don't look so sad, 'cause today we can do what you want." I said to him
He smiled "Okay! I want us to go into-"he dropped his voice "Our hideout and I want you to tell a story about-"he dropped it even lower "Pirates"
I nodded and he hopped downstairs for breakfast.
First chapter! Please review and give me Ideas, I am still debating where Clare will fit into the pirate's gang!