The day seemed like any other. It seemed like a yesterday and a tomorrow. No one else knew that a woman's heart was breaking, no one but a son, a daughter, and a dead husband. The woman standing in the door held the crumpled letter against her breast. Her heart beat against her hand through the cloth wrapped around her thin frame. She watched as a man in uniform rode away from her house. Tears of shock and sorrow ran down her face, her blond hair plastered to her face partly because of the heat and partly because of the salt tears. The mother closed the door and collapsed against the doorframe, tears shaking her body violently.

Her eleven-year-old son walked across the room and put his hand on his mother's shoulder. For a moment, she seemed unable to find him. Then it seemed a shock for her to see him. She wrapped her arms around the boy and dug her face into her son's hair.
The little girl with dark braids stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Her mother had always been so loving, so strong. She never cried. Not even when Daddy left for the ocean. She had been so brave. And now this woman was barely standing with sobs coming from her mouth. To the child, it was as if her mother were possessed. Somehow, little Mary knew that there was a good reason why her mother was crying. She took a step toward the two at the entrance to the small house, but she could bring herself no further.
Andrew, her brother, gave her a sharp look telling her to come over there but Mary didn't move. Instead, she backed herself against the wall.
Mary bolted out of the house and found the creek where her father and her used to play. She remembered him laughing at her for being afraid of the water melting her.
"You'll never become a sailor if you can't get over your fear of water."

She had laughed at him, telling him that he was silly, or that she had enough time. The truth was, her time was running short with each day. When the small girl looked into the water, the only thing she saw was her father. The tears came. They spread out on her face as if they were going to fly away. They fell into the water and they kept coming without a stop. Little Mary didn't even know what had happened. She just knew it was something bad to make her mother cry like she did.
She lay in the grass along the creek's side. Her little hands gripped at the grass, pulling some of the green strips out. It seemed as if she had cried for hours before her mother came out, tears staining her face. Mary stood and wrapped her arms around her mother. Her mother was herself again, besides the shadows of tears still on her ghostly white face.
She whispered something so small. It was something that would affect her daughter for the rest of her life. Some the girl would carry on her heart to make decisions with. It was such a small word.

She stuck something in her daughter's hand- a piece of paper.
"Pirates."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I knew from that moment that I couldn't marry him. Even though I had been bred for it, I just couldn't. My mother had taken the chance to give me the best possible life that she could give me. But I just couldn't.

Commodore Jonathon Fosser was a great man in the eyes of the community. He had a great, respectable job, which gave him responsibilities and a good pay. He was ordained as one of the most handsome men in the navy and I knew that he would treat me with respect. Being in his affections, I even received a better position in life for my mother. We no longer lived in the country house that I loved. We lived in the center of town and received anything we needed (or didn't need as the case may be). I was given nice dresses, the latest fashions. It seemed to good to be true. The only problem: I couldn't love him. Not that anyone cared about that. For some reason, I had been the foolish girl to think that the person I would marry would be the one I loved.
I thought this as Jonathon smiled up at me from the staircase.

"You look lovely, Miss Hawkins." He said, like he said every morning. Any other woman would be so happy to receive such a compliment each morning.

I smiled politely, but didn't say anything.

The long staircase seemed like a voyage to get to the end of it. My legs seemed to want to buckle underneath themselves. I gripped the railing for support. For some reason, I knew that it was the day. "The weather is a bit sketchy this morning." He said, as if I didn't have a balcony at my window, which I stood at every morning. No one had the nerve to tell me how it wasn't proper. Of course, last time someone did I did point out that it was there for a reason. I knew what they meant, of course. It would have been no fun to agree with them.

We walked to a carriage and I was escorted in.

"How is my mother?" I asked, hoping to seek any more news on her condition. Jonathon looked to me with sad eyes. "It won't be long." It had been a long time, and everyone knew that it was soon going to be the end. I held my head up. We had been expecting it for a while. Her condition started a few years after our father died. It had been getting steadily worse. Most would say her body was giving out. I would tell them, how could a body function without a heart? Truth was, her heart was breaking every day since she found out that our father had been murdered. I looked forward to it for her own sake. She would see our father again. They could both be happy.

The carriage came to a halt. Jonathon led me out and into the hospital. I stopped, losing my will for a moment. How could I face her dying? I knew I couldn't! She was so strong! I wouldn't watch her wilt away! I couldn't!

Jonathon smiled at me sadly. "I know this is hard for you."

I wanted to say, "No you don't." I was taught too well to say something like that in a dress. Instead, I nodded and took a step forward.
The hospital smells hit my nose and I took a deeper breath. A few stains on the white walls caught my attention and briefly made me wonder what kind of condition my mother was in.
The door was straight ahead of me. I gripped the door handle and stood for a moment, staring at the door. Jonathon made a small noise. I took a shaky breath and pushed the door opened.
The room was small- white walls with stains like the hallway. There was hardly enough room for the bed inside the room let alone all the company she was about to receive.

I looked at my mother who was not my mother. This woman couldn't be her. My mother always had laughter in her eyes for my brother and I. My mother was not like this at all. She was not simply skin and bone. She had color in her face and hands.

She couldn't even smile. "Hurry." She said to everyone else in the room. "Leave." She coughed out.

Jonathon hesitated, but I gave him a pleading look. He nodded and was the last out of the door. I took a shaky step toward the bed. And another. Soon I was sitting on the bed, holding my mother's hand.

She took a deep breath and tried to speak, but it only came out as a cough that sounded as if she were coughing up her lungs.

"Mama." I said, looking at her with sad eyes.

"Mary." She said at last, "My Mary."

It was a second before she could speak again. I tried to sit patiently.

"There's no time to cry." She said, seeing the tears welling up in my eyes. "You need-" She coughed again. "Your father!"

"What? Mama- Papa's not-"

"Listen!" She said quietly. "He's not dead. He's-"

"Mama-" I started but the tone of her eyes silenced me. She was not delusional. She was not lying. She was frightened.

"Davy Jones." She said finally, staring at me with eyes that I would never forget. She looked like a wild beast. She was terrified.

"He's not dead. You have to help him. You have to find him."

"Mama, I don't understand." I tried to reason. She stopped me again.

"You're father is trapped in that world. You are the only hope. Your brother would never believe me, but you need to!"

I took it in and knew that I had to do something, although I could decide what.

"There's a letter under this pillow for you. Please take it." She said. I looked at her for a moment, unsure of what to do. I reached slowly under her pillow and pulled out an envelope.

"Mary…" She said, more relaxed. "You and your brother were the brightest stars in my sky."

"Mama…" I started, but before I could get anything else out, she closed her eyes.

"Mama?" I said, desperately trying to find my voice. "Mama?"

Her eyes opened again. "Promise me. You'll go and look."

I nodded. "I promise, Mama."

A knock came on the door. I was screaming her name. Over and over again even when I thought there would be no sound. I kept shouting her name. I felt arms for around me.

"MAMA!"

They took me home and I cried myself to sleep. I woke in the dead of night remembering her words. The sheets under me seemed so warm that it didn't seem right. My body felt so cold- so lifeless. It didn't make sense that there should be warmth around me at all. I lied still for a few moments. My eyes stayed glued to the balcony across the room. Then in one single movement I threw the sheets off and sat up.

Walking around I seemed like an empty shell. I went to my dresser and found the envelope. I ripped it opened and read it as fast as I could.

Dearest Mary,

I keep thinking of the pain my death will cause you. I'm so sorry for that, darling. Andrew already has his wife and I know that it would take too much time to cross the ocean to receive a letter from me.

For the startling information I will tell you when I die, I am sorry. That is what most of the letter is about. But first, I would like you to know that I have never wanted you to be unhappy. I know you do not love Jonathon. If I am wrong, and you do love him, then you may marry him. Don't marry him if you do not love him. You would regret listening to me for the rest of your life.

I have had the worst dream last night. The worst part about this dream is that I know it is not a dream. It's my life after this one. A life without your father once again. He's not dead, but he is not alive. He is trapped! You need to find him using the message he left you when you were a child. Read it. Find Jack Sparrow. He can help you. Just tell him who you are.

I'm sorry for leaving you with this, Mary. I did not know a lot about your father's life, but I know that you can save him. Please don't fail. Be careful, my love, and don't get caught in the same fate. I have faith in you Mary.

With love,

Mama

I stayed still for a few minutes, staring at the messy handwriting that was once again, not my mothers. At first, I thought maybe she did not write it. Maybe this was some kind of trick that someone was laughing at me for. Yes, they were outside the window trying to stifle the laughter. I looked. No one.

I sighed, and realized I had to do something.I put the letter on the dresser and I opened the drawer closest to me. I lifted up the panel underneath and I stared at the piece of paper given to me long ago. I slowly reached my hand inside and grabbed it. I opened it slowly, being careful so it would not rip. It took a moment to notice how much my hands were shaking. The piece of paper looked as if it were trying to fly like a bird. I forced myself not to think of it and I turned my gaze toward the paper.

A23
B35

C64

D38

E87

F45

G56

I thought the same thing I thought every time I read it. What could it possibly mean? What could these letters and number have to do with me?

I read the letter again and looked at the numbers.

Find Jack Sparrow.

That was a start. But who was Jack Sparrow?