I don't own any of the characters from Pirates of the Caribbean. The movie and all the characters belong to Disney. Even Jack Sparrow. . . I own nothing, no one, just this story.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow's Taste of the Future

Chapter One

Ariana loved movies. Her father, who owned the local movie theater, had raised her. Since eight years old she had known how movie reels worked, how film transferred onto a screen; and when no one was at the theater, her father would let her put on any movie she wanted. She had grown up around all types of movies; by age ten she had figure out that adventure was her favorite. She craved it; she began dreaming of living those adventures, braving those battles, possessing that strength. Breaking out of reality, the normal life she was accustomed to and bored with: being free. It attracted her. She had piles of short stories she had written as a child centered around those kinds of stories, with her as the heroine. Once she got older she began on small novels, always with the same yearning for that freedom those characters on that screen seemed to boast. It was a world that was not possible for her. A world of independence, a life that existed within her mind.

She could easily remember the day she first saw the movie; her father had received the film before it was actually set to be released to the public, and he had let her watch it before everyone else. She remembered how hot it had been outside, and how empty the theater was, and most of all: how entranced she became. If ever she could depict the perfect movie, that would be it. She watched it again and again to live the adventure through the movie. It was her way of experiencing it, to enlarge the world inside her mind, allow it to grow and encompass her. Even when she wasn't watching it she was dreaming of how it would feel to be in one of those characters' shoes, to have that kind of adventure.

It was a late Thursday morning, the last day of July, around 11:00. Ariana and her two best friends, Kelsey and Julie, entered the theater to watch the movie yet again. Her father had given all the staff a day off with pay and closed the theater, giving her the key so that they could come watch it without interruption or distraction; he rarely did this, but he knew what it meant to her.

Once the movie started she was gone, somewhere completely separate from her friends. She leaned forward, not thinking.

She was leaning forward too much – at least that's what I felt like. No, she was falling. . . She wasn't falling, she was in her chair. No, she was being pulled forward, out of her chair. . . Her feet were leaving the ground; it was falling away from her. And the movie screen was coming closer, growing larger.

She was staring at the screen in shock; it was the only emotion that registered. It quickly dissipated into a calm feeling, and she relaxed, allowing the strange sensation to simply pull her steadily toward the screen, which was dangerously close now. She shouldn't do anything. . . That's how she felt. She shouldn't be alarmed. She should just let it happen. . . She couldn't move her limbs.

The feeling stopped. The screen stopped flying at her. She stopped feeling as if she was soaring through the air. It all stopped and she could feel the ground beneath her feet again.

She looked down to see not the slick black floor of the movie theater, but a wooden deck beneath her feet.

She raised her head up to look around and the first thing that caught her eye was the deep blue of the ocean that seemed to surround her, twinkling under the sunlight. She saw a wooden railing, and turned to see the huge mast of a ship that climbed up into the vast, light blue sky. Attached were huge, billowing white sails. She gazed up for a few moments, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

It was then that she felt the gentle swaying and began hearing the waves splashing up against the sides of something and knew that she was no longer in the movie theater.

She was on a ship. Most likely, a pirate ship, considering that she apparently had been sucked into the movie.

She had been pulled into a movie.

The words repeated themselves in her head continuously until slowly but surely, the realization sank in. She found that part of her wasn't frightened; she was content, even thrilled that she was, indeed, in the one movie she had found more freedom in than anything in her seventeen years of life. But there was another part of her that felt terrified for her life, wondering how this had happened; knowing that something had to be behind it.

But wait. . . Something was off here. . .

She looked up again at the sails.

They were white.

White, not black.

This was not the Black Pearl. This was not any ship from the movie, unless it was a Navy ship. This was a ship she had never seen before.

Her attention was taken up by a series of whistles and she turned to the deck.

There was an entire crew of men gathered in front of her – they were all either losing their hair or teeth, covered in layers of grime and dirt, and completely revolting. They were all, as well, looking in her direction, obviously interested. She felt the urge to gag.

There were suggestive grins all around, some chuckling to themselves.

"Would you ladies like to come with me for a bit?" one said.

Ladies? So she wasn't here alone. . . Kelsey and Julie. Of course. She had forgotten all about them in her bewilderment. They must have been sucked into the movie with her. She looked to her right and found Julie – she located Kelsey on her right. She hadn't even noticed them.

Both of them were stunned beyond belief, but as soon as they heard what the pirate said, they took on looks of disgust and backed away together. Ariana followed suite – she didn't want to be anywhere near these. . .men.

She backed up right into something large. She immediately hurried forward, away from it, and whipped around to see what it was as Kelsey and Julie looked also.

It was another pirate. Only this one looked a little different from the rest – a more elaborate outfit, with a huge black hat. He seemed maybe in his forties or fifties, with a good number of wrinkles and a stomach on its way to becoming plump. He wore large black boots, a brownish-black belt with numerous holders which housed a gun or two and a few daggers, and a white button-up shirt with a brown sort of trench coat that reached almost to the back of his knees and boasting innumerable pockets. It was open in the front, large yellow buttons sewed up along it.

He was the captain.

"Aye, I see it worked," he said, grinning and showing off a mouth full of gray, rotting teeth.

What was he glad about? Ariana wanted to question him, but chose not to.

"Men, take these lasses into me quarters so's I can 'ave a word," he told his crew, and Ariana heard the men coming towards them, all wanting to get to the fresh meat first. She wanted to run but was too frightened by the consequences of taking such action. She wouldn't have had time to escape anyway, for only five seconds after the captain had said his sentence, she felt rough hands grab her arms and yank them painfully back behind her. The stench was enough to make her want to vomit, along with the fact that she could feel the filth on their hands.

It wasn't a long walk to the captain's quarters, and when they reached them the three were practically thrown in, the door shut behind them. She began to reconsider being so overjoyed at her predicament.