Well, this is the first thing that I have posted on Fanfiction. I'm still writing it, so please read and review. Thanks!

A little about the story - This is the story of Jack Sparrow's childhood. It tells how he came to be exactly who he is now. I own all the characters except Jack Sparrow.

Chapter 1

"It is so nice of you to come, School Master Jacobs." The woman opened the door revealing a middle aged man getting soaked by the pouring rain outside.

"No, please, ma'm. It is far kinder of you to have me for dinner." Schoolmaster Jacobs surveyed the small home he had walked into. It was old and clearly in bad need of repairs. There appeared to be only two rooms. One was a large living room with a fireplace, dining table, small cooking counter, and a double bed shoved into the corner. The other was a very small room with three single beds and a trunk at the end of each - nothing more.

Although the schoolmaster could tell the family lived in poverty, the Sparrow's home was well lived in, and had an air of coziness and family that a lot of the wealthy family's homes did not.

Evangeleen Sparrow nervously poured a cup of tea which she placed on the table for the man. "Dinner is almost ready." She stirred a pot that was over the fire, and then came to sit at the table. She played with her thumbs for a moment before saying, "I take it you wanted to talk about the boys. Is…is there a problem?"

She looked up at him with blue eyes that startled him. In a shabby blue dress and her hair falling carelessly down her back, he had not realized how pretty she was. "Well, let me begin by saying that you have three extremely bright boys, Mrs. Sparrow." He sipped the tea and was instantly warmed. Usually, he felt very uncomfortable in these situations, but here he felt completely at ease. Mrs. Sparrow nodded but seemed to be preparing herself for the worst. "John is a good student. Intellectually, however, he remains average. John's been my student since he was five years old. That's ten years I've known him. It is in my opinion that he go into a trade, instead of pursuing a more prestigious career."

Mrs. Sparrow looked at him aghast. "But John loves to learn. He wants to be a scholar."

The schoolmaster was saddened by this. "We all have dreams, ma'm. But sometimes we don't realize that we've been dreaming over our heads."

The room went silent. Suddenly, Mrs. Sparrow jumped up. "I forgot about dinner!" She exclaimed running over to their oven. It was little more than in opening in the chimney above the fireplace, but it served its purpose. She pulled a roast out of it and placed it in front of schoolmaster Jacobs.

"This looks delicious, Mrs. Sparrow."

"Please, call me Evangeleen."

"It looks delicious, Evangeleen, and please call me Stuart." She smiled. He was surprised to realize how much he liked her smile, and how comfortable he was with calling her by her first name. He wasn't on a first name basis with any of his students' families. In fact, he was known for being quite close to his students but being distant with their parents.

She sat down and they began their dinner. For a few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the quiet rhythm of the two people chewing. The silence was broken, however, when Stuart Jacobs put down his fork and looked up at the woman across from him. "Perhaps we should get down to things, Evangeleen. This really is a lovely dinner and I cannot enjoy it until I have spoken what I came here to say."

Evangeleen likewise put down her fork and appeared to gather her wits. She knew what was coming. "Go on, then."

"As I said before, I am not having any problems with John; he has become a fine young man. Lucas is not a problem either. He is struggling a bit in his studies, but nothing that a little more home studying couldn't remedy." He checked her face. She had not relaxed at this news. She seemed to already know what the problem was. "You see, Evangeleen, I have been having a bit of a problem with…Jack." He said it hesitantly. He knew some mother's could not bear to hear their young children's faults. Evangeleen Sparrow said nothing, but he saw the sadness in her eyes. He leaned forward and said gently, "Have you been…having trouble with him?"

She looked up at his kind eyes. She could tell he wanted to help, so she slowly nodded. "It's not that he's a bad kid. He has always been a ray of sunshine in this house, but ever since…" Her voice trailed off. She didn't need to say it, though. Stuart Jacobs had long since guessed it, and it was the main reason he was here tonight.

"Ever since your husband left?"



He could hear the dogs barking behind him as he ran for his life. Branches whipped against his face and his legs were exhausted from constantly jumping over logs and rocks. As he ran across an opening, screaming at the top of his lungs, he chanced a glance behind him and saw that all eight hound dogs were still tight on his heels.

Despite being completely worn out, the fear that coursed through him only pushed him to run harder. This would probably have been a good thing, except that only a few feet through the trees was a cliff.

He saw it just in time and slammed to a halt. The dogs were close. There was no time to lose. He did the first thing that he could think of – he made a balloon out of his pants. He whipped off his britches and tied the pant legs together, then held them by the belt loops. The first dog broke the tree line behind him, and he jumped.

Holding the pants legs up above him, he plummeted downward. The pants slowed the fall only a little, but it was enough that he didn't break every bone in his body when he hit the ground with a thud. He looked upward and was satisfied to see that the dogs had remained, barking irritably, at the top of the cliff.

He stood up holding his side – the landing had hurt. His right side hurt especially bad, making him wonder if he had broken something. He decided to ignore it for now. He pulled on his britches and started to walk forward, having no idea where he was. He was walking on what appeared to be an old dirt road, but ahead of him looked like what was probably a farmer's field. He couldn't see above the wheat stocks to look for a barn or anything to show him the way. After all, he was only eight.

He stopped and sat down, thinking about what to do next. That's when he heard it – singing. Not just any singing either. It was a little girl's voice. One he knew all too well. He had no chance to stand up and run for it before the girl broke through from the wheat field.

"Jack!"

"Oh, bugger."