Cold.
Freezing Cold.
Crumbling building, dark and dank.
Mother ,sick in bed.
Pintel nursing her.
Cold.
Freezing cold.
"And visions of sugarplums danced in their heads…"
Where have I heard that before?
A pair of dirty socks wrapped in old newspaper.
Cold.
Freezing cold.
That fateful day someone handed me a flyer.
Running home.
Tattered curtains, single candle.
Bible open on the bed,
Mother gone.
Cold.
Freezing cold.
"She's in a better place now."
Crumpled paper still in my hand.
Stifling hug, I feel his tears wet my head.
His sister, my mother—dead?
I give him the paper.
Cold.
Freezing cold.
He understands the words.
"Choose one: the workhouse or the sea."
Flashback to me watching sailors on the dock.
"Alone or with you?"
Cold.
Freezing cold.
Rainy, slippery, crowded.
Ocean slams against the ship.
Tall bearded man with a piece of paper
"Make yer mark."
Cold.
Freezing cold.
Gold, silver, women!
Exotic lands.
Horrible battles…
Cold.
Freezing cold.
Warm, gushing blood.
What's wrong with my face?
No memory of injury,
just pain—lots of pain.
Cold.
Freezing cold.
"What an opportune moment to have lost your eye…"
A bargain.
"Keep it safe."
Cold.
Freezing cold.
Cursed.
Such a terrible word.
Free.
If by freedom you mean jail.
Cold.
Freezing cold.
Slimy, huge, terrible breath.
Jar of eyeballs.
Davy Jones.
Cold.
Freezing cold.
I'm thirty-two?
On the sea since…ten?
Gone through so much…cause too much trouble.
Maybe I'll just stay, take Jack's place.
Cold.
Freezing cold.