Chapter 1
Hello! This is a one-shot. This story was meant to be vague leaving the reader the room instead to come up with their own situation for why the character does what she does. Since the only references to the setting are the Caribbean sun, it should be noted that the setting is Port Royal, the Caribbean, around the mid to late 1700's.
The reason why this story is listed under POTC is that while writing this I personally imagined her situation as a young girl living in the Caribbean who ran off to become a sailor with her friend, and while on the sea they were captured by and became pirates, which would eventually lead to "the death of everyone she loved" and her mom disowning her. Never the less, while that is my point of view this story allows you, the reader, to come up with your own circumstances. Have fun, and I hope the story is enjoyable!
I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red,
And 'round the world I'll beg my bread,
Until my parents shall wish me dead
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
I wish I had my heart again,
And vainly think I'd not complain
-Siuil a Run
I am a widow. A barren widow. I am a barren widow wanted by 4 countries. I am a barren widow wanted by 4 countries who is 20. I am 20. I am 20 and my life is already over.
Four Years Ago…
"Carter…"
"Yes?"
"Are you sure about this- I mean, well…" The young girl stuttered desperately as she clutched her blue faded skirt between her forefinger and thumb as if the friction of those fingers might cause an epiphany of ideas all of which would fit appropriately into that forgotten sentence. But of course to believe those movements would cause her to regain her train of thought, even possibly change the course of her life was preposterous.
What Carter had just proposed would forever change her life. Change. Something she so feared, yet desperately yearned for. Change. Something that could keep the most sane man awake into the late hours of night and the insane asleep into the late hours of morning. What controlled the revolving and doings of the universe.
She had craved change for her whole life and at this moment it was bountifully offered in front of her. The chance to see the sea; to smell and even feel it! And the moment she first hit that water- well, it would be redemption at its worst, salvation at its best. She could just imagine the sea breeze carelessly teasing each one of her tendrils as each cuticle becomes tighter and tighter, slowly but surly frizzing her hair.
Routines. That was all her life had been. Now she had a chance to become a sailor and sail the seas!
Of course it wouldn't be all that great. Her breasts, newly arrived and still adjusting, would be bandaged down flat to resemble more of Carter's chest than of her mothers. Her cashmere hands wouldn't stay that way for long. They would come to resemble the sacks those summer farmhands would carry the weeks tobacco pickings in, the same farmhands whose ranks contained Carter who had on one fateful day found a stack of letters in her fathers study. He who had read who they were mailed to and absentmindedly shown them to her, not realizing that they were put on the highest shelf behind the biggest book for a reason.
Of course she had had some inkling of those letters- once a year for as long as she could remember a lone letter would appear on the front table. Her father's cold hands would snatch them up before she could even inquire as to who they were for. Her mother's eyes would dart back and forth nervously each time a letter came, trying to decide if it was her place as a wife to inquire about it. Each time the letters were taken away before she could make up her mind. It was those letters that could be accredited for all that was to happen and the eventual death of everyone she had ever loved.
But for now as the young women stood upon the dying green grass in her yard she was completely oblivious of everything except her desire for freedom and the sea. Years later her mother would say that her daughters tragic flaw was her inability to make rational decisions, "That," she would assure all of her older friends in their dated fading dresses, sipping traditional English tea in their traditional sitting room, and pausing to refill her cup, "Is what ultimately led her to her fate." On the right side of her mother a women would ask, "So, what exactly happened- is she still out there?"
And her mother would faintly reply, while peeking into the most shadowed corner in her overfilled tearoom, speaking to a single pair of stunning green eyes, "She prevailed by finding happiness and peace. Whether she is still physically alive, I do not know. But in my mind, my daughter, she is dead to me." Another woman, this time younger, would speak up without thinking as all women her age do and say, "What a shame- to be deserted by your mother." And everyone would agree, "Yes, what a shame after all she had given her." And in the darkest corner of that room a pair of green eyes would laugh very hard indeed. If they only knew what she had really done for her.
But she did not know all of this when she stood during that summer day trying to figure out the course of her life. And it cannot be said if she knew what her decision would lead to, and if she did, why she still went through with it. But maybe, just maybe, although her decision would lead to the death of all of those she loved, she found happiness in those few short years and ultimately, peace. And that was worth anything in the world.
But at the present moment she had a decision to make. If her present situation had been otherwise she might have felt more compelled to stay, but in her eyes she had been betrayed and human nature called for her to rebel. She extended a hand that from the Caribbean sun was already starting to show signs of age and with it took Carter's hand in her own. The assertiveness in her own voice startled her as she stated, "Let's do it."
And at that moment, under the surpassingly warm Caribbean sky, a young girl turned into a woman.