Well, you damn sure know something had to happen to Jack Sparrow to make him the way he was, and I remember his mom being mentioned briefly in the second movie, which got me thinking...and here you go. I'd lovelovelove reviews.
Making the Wings
He remembered the first time that he saw someone die.
It wasn't anyone he was particularly close to, and he had known a lot of people who had died before.
But it was really something different to see it for yourself.
There was the strong smell that he didn't know meant poverty, that stale, and rum, and sick was not normal. As were the bare feet of seven year olds in March.
His mum clutched at his hand, always seeking the comfort she was missing from her husband.
Her face looked young, and somehow horribly old at the same time. It was like a tortured child; unnatural and unnerving.
She whimpered and looked away, not bothering to turn the boys head.
The man in the red coat was not from around here, it was not that the boy didn't recognize him, he didn't, but the man's clothes were too new, his face was too scrubbed, and he had that white hair that meant class.
People from here only had white hair from age, and the ends were always dark from the dirt.
He was reading from a scroll, with a bored look on his face.
There was another man kneeling in front of him, he was a local. His once pants barely came to his knees, he had no shoes and was missing a toe. His arms were in chains, and the dirt on his face was running, as if he had been crying.
"…illegal to steal from thy neighbor. Dinnit you know tha'?" The solider asked, abruptly breaking off from his speech.
"I…It won' happen again. Really."
"I know." The red man said. Then he pulled out his sword, and with one swift motion cut off the criminal's head.
There was not even a collective gasp from the people walking near by, only a shared gratitude that this time, it was not them.
Because each of them had done the same thing as this man, if not, for most of them, worse.
The boys mouth dropped, and a strangled sound came from his throat.
His mother was still making whimpering noises, and he knew how upset his father would be if he did not try to fix it, it was his job after all. To look after her.
To make up silly things to say when she was upset. To go along with her crazy talkings, to try and make the bad things seem alright.
Even though they weren't.
"Well," The boy's voice was dry. "Could've been worse, I s'pose."
His mother peeked at him from around her hands, her look questioning.
"They could've cut his hair first."
She cracked a smile, exposing her many missing teeth. "Hah." She said, then broke out into giggles, sounding like a little girl.
He smiled, he had done really well this time.
She kneeled next to him, taking his head into both of her hands. Her face was so close to his she looked like she only had one eye.
"And wha' about the rabbits?" She asked solemnly.
He stayed quiet, she had not given him enough to go off of, he might upset her if he said the wrong thing. Her little games were dangerous if you did not know her.
"The rabbits," She insisted. "Will the be in the stew, or in the hole?"
"So long as they aren't in my shoes." He said, neutral ground was always safer.
"Hah, ha, ha. Oh, my little pumpkin, always full of the juice."
He smiled, that was as close to a compliment as he had ever got from her. Comparison to a plant, her form of endearment.
Her face took on a sullen look though, matching the mood of a young child. "But that man…" She shook her head and made a tsking sound. "No, his bones will lay in the pit forever, I dare say."
"The pit?" He asked, unable to help himself. Rule number one, never encourage her when she was like this.
"The locker." Her whisper got even lower. "The worst fate for any pirate."
He felt his arm turn to gooseflesh. Well, she just stomped on rule number two.
"We'd best be getting home." He tugged her skirts, hoping she would forget all this nonsense, that they could just get home.
But he never would forget it.
The day that he promised to himself to never die, to never suffer like that one man did. To never become as weak as that.
That was the day Jack Sparrow had made himself a vow of immortality.