James Hook was an awkward child, in both looks and attitude. He was rather gangly, with greasy and wiry black hair, and a prominent nose. Personality wise, he was rather odd. The dreaded mixture of looking odd and acting odd created a bit of...tension between him and...basically everyone else. Ostracized by his peers, he often had to spend way too much time with his mother. And his mother...
His mother wanted him to be something he wasn't. She was convinced he'd be able to take up the family tradition of pirating...but that's not what he wanted, not at all. But what he did want...he felt too ashamed to voice that desire, for fear that it could incur his mother's wrath. Of course, she was aware of what he wanted to do with his life; she was a pirate after all, and pirates had to be observant, almost omnipotent. But it was quite apparent that she did not want him to go around blabbing about his want, for fear that it would bring shame upon her family.
"You can want want you want, Jimmy," she would rasp to him, before adding, "Just know that your wishes are to be kept secret. Also...that they'll never come true."
In spite of her harsh words, he continued to wish upon every star he saw, that he'd some day be able to do what he wished with his life.
He snuck away one night, sneaking out the window to his room climbing down the rickety stairwell that was loosely attached to the side of their apartment building. His steps were cautious, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he fought to maintain his balance.
James sighed in relief once his feet touched the ground. He glanced up at the window that led into their tenement. There was no flicker of a candle, so luckily his mother had not heard his not-so-graceful sneaking.
Immediately, he took off running, the worn soles of his shoes pounding against the uneven cobblestones. The lamps flickered, not yet having been extinguished for the night, casting long shadows as he ran.
Abruptly he skidded to a halt, eyes wide. A couple drunkards were staggering down the street. not wanting to be caught by the potentially dangerous men, he turned and ran down an alleyway. Living in the disgusting underbelly of London, in the rough district of Whitechapel District, had it's perks; he was quite used to the foul odor that permeated through the alleys, as well as the grotesquely-sized rats that scampered about underfoot.
He navigated rather smoothly through the alleys, eventually coming out a few streets away. He winced, the absolute rancid smell of sewage overwhelming him briefly. Carefully, he hopped across the stream below, clinging to the railing on the other side before he climbed through.
The lamps had been extinguished on this side of the "canal", giving the rest of the journey a foreboding air. However, James trekked on, his clothes clinging to him with the dampness of the air.
The houses were still quite close together, but they were much better looking than the steel grey ones from his side of town. James kept his pace fast, but not as much as before; his eyes wandered curiously to the windows, trying to catch maybe a glimpse of the goings-on inside...but all the windows were darkened. Eventually he sighed, merely continuing on his way; he wasn't all that far from his destination, after all. The only thing left between here and there was...
James halted for a second time on his journey, his eyes flashing in fear briefly. The graveyard. The grey crabgrass sprouted out of the black earth, looking like rotted hands reaching up from their graves. The crumbling grave-marker stones looked just as scary, with the illegible names and dates from long ago giving titles to the ghosts that most-likely roamed about at the late hours of the night.
The young boy took a deep breath, sliding his thin body between the bars of the black iron gate. He walked hesitantly, his feet crunching over the long-dead grass; he cringed at every sound he made, his eyes darting around for some mummified creature to attack him.
Of course, that did not happen. James made it to the other side of the graveyard, completely unscathed. He let out a sigh of relief, rubbing his forehead wearily, as he squeezed through the fence on the other side.
The hill up to his destination was steep, as was typical of England. The grass there, though, was a deep emerald green, crisp and very much alive. The sky was dark and vast, the occasional sparkling star poking through the low and thick clouds.
James breathed in deeply the feel of being in the middle of nature absolutely filling his senses. For that second, if only then, he felt wonderfully free and incredibly liberated.
However, he knew he was limited on time, and if he wanted to do what he came there for, then he should not stall about.
He climbed up the short hill to the golden-stone church, a small smile on his face. Surrounding the small hill was the city; this place was James's little piece of Heaven on Earth.
The door was unlocked, as per usual. It was weak and wooden, but it kept the weather out. He pushed it open easily, allowing it to shut behind him almost silently as he made his was into the church.
It was dully lit, with the few candles in there eternally burning. In spite of the limited amount of light, it felt very nice and warm (unlike the graveyard). He walked down the short isle, the worn pews on either side of him.
Instead of approaching the short, but elaborate stage and podium, James veered off to the right, where a small door was installed into the wall. His confidence seemed to grow with every step he took in the church, so he hardly hesitated when he opened up the door, going inside.
A narrow winding staircase was behind the door. He ascended it quickly, placing his hands on either side of him, as though making sure the walls didn't collapse in on him. Eventually, he reached the top, where another door was positioned.
He pushed it open, almost desperately in his eagerness, before bounding inside.
Behind the door laid a balcony teeming with color and picture depicting various scenes from the Bible. You could see all the pews from the perch, as well as the full view of the stained-glass windows, with their elaborate designs.
James smiled, loving being this high up. However, his smile only widened when he turned from the railing, his brown eyes teeming with lust, or rather love, for what he saw.
The organ was very old, and very beautiful. Magnificent carvings, designs of spirals and other sorts danced across the wood. Unlike the door, and everything else in the church, the piano looked well taken care of. In spite of it's old age, it seemed to gleam brightly, reflect the small amount of lights being tossed about by the candles soft golden glow.
The pipes were just as magnificent, looking more like gold than the cheaper metal they were most likely made of. James walked over to the organ, his hand briefly touching the metal. A hollow humming sound echoed through the one he touched.
Feeling weak in the knees, he eagerly slid onto the bench, his fingers hovering just above the alabaster keys.
He had only actually ever played a few times before, and never had he played with an actual piece of music. But it was almost as though his hands knew exactly what they were doing, as they soared across the keys. The music would drift up to the domed ceiling, spiraling in a whirlwind of music, before swooping down over the empty pews.
James would move with the music, as though the music itself was controlling him - as though it had been desperate to burst from his soul for so long, it could hardly contain itself.
He would be absolutely numb to everything around him, when he was playing. The music would always have his full attention at those times.
"You play very good," a kindly voice intoned. James jumped, the voice startling him so greatly, he was broke free of his reverie.
He whirled around on the bench, his eyes wide with fear.
A man, quite a few years older than him was standing near him. He was plump with graying hair. James briefly sighed, allowing himself some relief that it wasn't the pastor of the church (in spite of the fact that the church was "always open to those who needed it", he figured the man wouldn't enjoy his banging about on the organ), before tensing up once again.
"It's all right, you're not in trouble," the man said, moving closer. In spite of the kind look on the man's face, James had learned long ago to never trust any one. He jumped off the bench backing away.
The man looked slightly sad at the boy's reaction. "I'm not going to hurt you, little fella. My name is Mr. Smee-"
James darted around the plump man, high-tailing it down the staircase and out of the church. As he ran, he noticed the lightening sky. It was almost a blessing in disguise that the strange man had arrived; he wouldn't have to explain to his mother, arriving home late, what he had been doing.
Meanwhile, Mr. Smee had finally made his way down the staircase, and was at the doors to the church, He squinted through his glasses, eyes trained on the boy who could play music more beautifully than the mermaids of his dreams could sing.
"I believe we'll meet again, some day," he smiled. "And perhaps we may become mates that time around."
A/N Wow, this was like... 90% prose. Hardly any dialogue. But it was certainly a joy to write! This was sort of inspired from the fact (in the first Peter Pan movie) that James could play the piano. And with his HOOK at that! That's just awesome!
If there's any story you would like me to write in any of the Disney-Pixar (animated) fandoms, feel free to request!
Please review!