Double-sided Hook

I am the one who haunts your nightmares,

who slinks through the darkness with shadows enveloping my form,

ice-blue eyes crackling with red-hot fury and frustration.

I am the one who makes your spine prickle with cold,

makes your teeth chatter until their clipped sound

matches the fervent pounding of the heart within your chest.

I am the one whose mercy is nonexistent,

the one whose cruelty extends to the members of his own crew.

I am the one who would shoot somebody just for the sake of hearing the gunfire,

for the acrid scent of gunpowder in my nostrils

and the hot feel of the pistol's trigger against my chilled skin.

I am the one who would tear the flesh off your bones with my hook,

would plunge it into you and rip out your entrails

then hang them from the mast without a second thought

so that all may look upon them and know what happens

to those who cross me.

I am the one whose right arm was lopped off at the wrist

then tossed over the starboard side to the patient, starving crocodile.

The one who, while writhing in pain, had to watch

as the beast crunched the morsel within its gaping jaws,

had to listen to the taunting, boyish laughter

of the one who believed this was all a game.

I am the one who, even now, must run as creature hunts me down,

forever looking to devour the rest of me.

And yet…

I am also the one who travels through the jungle at moon-high

simply to watch the fairies dance;

the one whose gaze softens when basked

in the tranquil glow radiating from their wings.

I am also the one who, despite the loss of my hand,

still composes melodies to be played upon the piano's ivory keys

or the harpsichords web-like strings.

The one whose voice looses its harsh edge when it hums a tune

or softly murmurs the words to a cherished song.

I am also the one with a secret passion for the arts of poetry and story-telling,

whose mind reverberates with strange and wonderful narratives that rival those

of the children inhabiting this timeless land.

My tales make their stories seem like paltry gossip,

without any substance to hold them to your heart.

I am also the one who, when my façade slips upon being left alone,

can seem almost compassionate.

At those times I finally allow myself to express the loneliness consuming me

like a flesh-eating disease,

let my voice moan in unison to the foaming, churning sea.

At those times I at last permit the scorching tears to fall from my eyes,

let my remaining fingers slide along the polished surface of my hook

and hold it softly against my chest.

I am also the one who must then close my eyes in despair,

knowing that I will never have someone look upon me

with the undying affection I've seen bestowed by every woman

to the one man who has captured her elusive heart.

Look upon me; see what lies within my blackened heart.

Know what your precious Peter Pan has done to me;

Feel my pain as if it were your own and remember my name.

I AM James Hook, Captain of the Jolly Roger!