Hallo, my friends, so, after a long time away from here, I started writing a new story, after seeing the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie, which is a series that I love dearly, but they keep disappointing me by killing of my favourite characters, you'll know what I mean if you saw the movie. So, after seeing it I had a discussion with my friend and I remember a little text based, role playing game that I used to play with a bunch of my friends when I was younger, where we played in the POTC world, only we played as magical talking horses. :D I won't go into details, but it gave me an idea to write a story, with new twists that you'll hopefully like, so just read it and wait. :) Anyway, let's get to the first chapter. :)

Written in the Stars

Chapter 1.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning in the Caribbean Sea, a quiet one that was hardly ever disturbed even by a cry of a lonely seagull flying in the sky. The sea was calm under the slowly rising sun, only the gentle ripples in the water indicating that it wasn't, in fact, a giant mirror, stretching far away in the horizon. With no proper land visible it seemed endless, a great mass of dark grayish blue water hiding within it it's secrets and mysteries.

Suddenly though, out of nowhere, something appeared in the distance. A shape of a ship. You might not be able to recognise it without a spyglass, but as the ship came closer, there was no doubt as to it's identity. It could have been beautiful at one time, and for some, perhaps, it still was, but seeing it like this, floating on the sea, half rotting and covered with seaweed, it was truly a disconcerting sight. The Flying Dutchman. This nightmare of a ship who filled the dreams of thousands of sailors with dread, along with her fearsome captain, who was, speaking of him, standing on the deck at this very moment.

He was, in every bit, the same as his ship, frightening, yet strangely graceful in his appearance. The great hat, signifying that he truly was a captain, told tales about the man he must have been once, and his bright, blue eyes that never quite lost their sadness even when he was angry, reflected the endless depths of his tragic life. This was Davy Jones, as he always will be. His tentacles, which cascaded around his head, forming a strange caricature of a beard, were twitching slightly as their owner looked over the silent waters impatiently.

He wasn't very lucky these past few days, and he was growing restless, as was his crew. It was as if the sea itself has decided to be merciful, or rather, to mock him with it's refusal to grant him a single unfortunate ship to cross his path, or at least one tragedy he could take an advantage of. He could always feel them of course, the pain and the dying screams of the sailors as their ships and their lives were destroyed by whatever misfortune happened to them on these treacherous seas. These feelings have dulled over the years since he refused to acknowledge them, but he never allowed it completely, for in the following decades it always told him clearly just where to search for his next prey. This past week however, the sea was silent.

Wordlessly, he ordered his men to continue in their current direction, and he turned, ready to return to his cabin, when something caught his attention. A short distance away from the ship they were passing a small, sandy island, with something as white as the snow lying on the shore. Upon closer inspection, he found out, much to his surprise, that it was in fact a white horse. The creature was quite beautiful, with it's long, silvery mane pooling around it's flanks, but it was clear that there was something very wrong with it. The animal was obviously unconscious, but it's body was shaking with what was probably some kind of sickness.

He stood there for a while, watching it, and then he ordered his men to step onto the shore. The sharkman, Maccus, was the first one to reach the horse, and as he crouched in front of it, he roughly turned the creature onto it's other side. Then, a huge gaping wound that looked suspiciously like one made by a bullet was revealed to them, and it didn't look well, probably infected by the look of it's reddened edges.

His first instinct was to just shoot the horse and be done with it, but as he looked at it's dying, pitiful form, he felt a strange feeling inside him that just wouldn't let go. It felt as if the creature was somehow… kindred to him, and he couldn't bring himself to kill it. So instead, shaking his head in his confusion, he told the crew to lift the horse and bring her, as it was indeed a mare, onto the ship. They were surprised to say the least, but they obeyed as always. They laid her below one of the masts, making her at least a bit comfortable with a bunch of old cloths they found somewhere in the lower deck.

It was the captain himself who later found himself taking care of the injured animal. He still didn't know what exactly made him do it, but for some reason, he wanted to keep this creature alive. Even from his old life, he knew how to mix all the different manner of sea flora that, fortunately, grew freely around his ship, in order to create powerful medicine. That talent used to save lives of his crew many times, back when he was still but a captain of a merchant vessel. Now, it was going to save the life of this horse.

Several minutes ago, he had removed the bullet that was, in fact, still lodged in the creature's shoulder, and he was sure glad that the pain kept her unconscious for the procedure. Now, using a piece of cloth, he gently applied the healing salve onto the wound with one of his longest tentacles. He couldn't have noticed that of course, but as he looked at the animal before him, the sullen look in his eyes softened slightly, as new and yet old memories surfaced in his mind, memories of his childhood long before he found his true calling as a sailor, and the farm where he would spend his time taking care of his father's animals. He didn't know how he could still remember that, after all this time, but now, alone with his memories, he remembered them fondly. He stayed like this, lost in thought, for a little while longer, but then he shook his head and stood up, once more the captain of the Dutchman. His heavy footsteps sounded in the silence of the ship as he left, but, unknown to him, his every move was now being followed by a pair of dark, brown eyes.