Goodness golly lord! 16 reviews for the summary? I love you guys, seriously. So, as your greatly deserved reward, here is…THE FIRST CHAPTER! Enjoy!
"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, you don't know how lovely you are."
Coldplay – The Scientist
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Moving through the thick fog blanketing the swamp is a demonic figure, shoulders hunched over in weighted discomfort. Following the specter is a large animal on a fraying rope, its long tail wagging incessantly, and cutting through the fog like a hot knife through butter. With every step, the shadow and its ward approach a weedy hut, hidden by the mist, swallowed by rank and disgusting growths, multi-hued and dangerous in their appearance. With no moon overhead, dozens of lanterns light the way down the path to the shack, each one of them a different shape and style. In some, the light from the oiled wick barely shines past the inside of the metal cylinder, while others drench the ground with a kind of unholy glow. The dark figure and his beast reach the front of the broken down shack, the man wiping beads of sweat and precipitation away from his brow. With heavy steps, the shadowy individual makes his way up the few stairs to the front door and into more of the awful light. The strange yellow green aura from the lamps douses the man in a sickly ruddiness, causing his naturally pale skin to look more deathly than normal. He glances at his reflection in a grimy broken window in the doorway, looking away from his own gaze before raising a long fingered hand to knock on the piece of wood hanging weakly from its hinges. With a strangled intake of shallow breath, his fist descends upon the door, almost hesitant to make contact. When it does, the entrance swings open with an eerie creak, causing the dog at the man's side to whimper and hide behind its master. Bracing his self one final time, the man steps inside the uncomfortably strange hut, tying the dog to a post with shaky hands. As he continues on, the mutt whines and lies on his stomach, nudging his paws over his nose.
Ahead, our mysterious figure pulls aside a beaded doorway fringe, having followed the sound of harsh singing, grimacing at the sight of shrunken embalmed heads interweaved with stained bones strung on pieces of twine. A hideous laughter startles the man from his staring, his pale green eyes searching and falling upon an old woman, perched in a rocking chair made of driftwood. In her bony left hand are two golden spheres spinning around in her palm, the movement strangely hypnotizing. The witch's wrists are swathed in a myriad of beads and fabrics, equally as strange as everything else on and around her. Each of her 10 fingers is bejeweled with a ring far too big for the appendage it's on. Across her flimsy skirted lap is a shabby Siamese cat with one blind eye and half of a tail, the godforsaken creature releasing a mewl that sounds more like a dying vulture than a cat. The witch's spidery clinking fingers weave through the animal's wiry fur affectionately, and her thin colorless lips part to speak in a voice worse than her pet's.
"You've come for your due, then?" She asks, crossing her legs beneath her skirts. The creature on her lap jumps away in agitation, growling at the visitor before leaping off with a limp into the shadows.
"Aye," he replies, not taking his eyes off of the haggard witch. The crone sighs, getting to her feet and teetering, grasping the old rocking chair to balance herself with her free hand, placing the golden orbs on the moth eaten seat cushion. Dusting off her dress with a sounding of bracelets, she moves past the man towering over her towards another room in the shack, crooking her finger at her guest to follow. Hesitantly, the giant figure leans down to fit under the small, off-centered doorway, a pale hand on the frame. Glancing around, the witch, he notices, is bent over a chair and digging around in a chest spilling over with jewels and clothes and other various items. The crone lets out a triumphant cackle, causing shivers to run up and down the man's spine, but he turns excited when she veers around with something held between the thumb and index finger of her right hand. It is a strange little thing, glittering in the light of the candles surrounding them. From first glance it is nothing more than a white pearl, roughly the size of a succulently ripe blackberry, with a hole and thread laced through the top of it. But when the crone turns the object, it's insides turn from pearl to a clear, gold tinted stone, known simply as citrine. Not a special or rare stone, but beautiful in it's own right.
"Drake Dansen," the witch croaks, the man looking away from the pendant to her beady black eyes. "This gift cannot be taken lightly. Because you have received it by paying in blood, it will not go untainted. Any woman who is impure of heart and touches this gem will die."
Drake scoffs passively.
"Spare me your insights, witch, I have no patience or need for your curse and foretelling. Give me what is mine, and I will be on my way. I have already done what you asked of me to have this, and so now I rightfully take my due. Give me the pendant," he says angrily, putting his hand out. The old woman obliges without another word, holding the pendant above her head daintily between her fingers. With a defiant but ignorant huff, she drops the thing into the man's palm.
"Be gone with you, young sir. If your lady love dies, do not come running to blame me," she remarks lightly, still with that awful voice. Drake, as he had been called, says nothing in reply and turns on his heel to leave, and he nearly makes it all the way back to his dog before the witch calls to him again.
"Dansen?"
He turns, his towering figure bent in the doorway.
"What?" He barks, glaring back at the crone. She looks him over once from her stance in the other room before chuckling darkly. She waves one bony hand dismissively before sitting in her rocking chair, swirling the golden spheres in her left palm again. Dansen unravels his dog's leash, slipping the citrine pearl in his pocket and tugging on the rope to veer the animal's attention away from the gangly Siamese cat staring one eyed and menacing from the shadows.
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Carefully leaning against the door, Jack Sparrow rests his hand on the wood, his brow there as well. With a tortured look, he closes his eyes and growls deep in the back of his throat.
"Open this door, Miss de Pearl. Or do I have to break it down, myself?" He asks, his short nails tapping the wood impatiently.
"You can sleep out with the sheep for all I care, Sparrow," comes the steady reply from a female voice. Jack rolls his eyes and pushes against the locked door with his head, glaring it down.
"Miss Sadie, I'm not going to ask you again. Open this door."
The woman on the other side laughs.
"Or what? You'll break it down and risk waking up Harper?"
At this, Jack grimaces, standing up from the door with his hands fisted at his sides.
"Damn it, must you always use that against me, love?"
"If it'll stop you from breaking down an emotional woman's door, then yes Jack, I will."
With a final sigh, the man steps away, his hands going lax.
"Fine," he mutters, turning away with one last glance at the doorway. He goes to walk down the hall when two big blue eyes stare up at him from the ground, causing Jack to pause in step.
"Papa?" The child asks groggily, rubbing sleep from her eyes with chubby fists. "Are you and mama fighting?"
Feeling his heart break at the sight of his daughter's worried expression, one that she should have no practice with, Jack lifts the dark haired girl into his arms, holding her close to his chest.
"Assuredly not, love. Mama's just having one of her moments when she needs to be let alone from your old man. Savvy?"
"Savvy, papa," the little girl nods, poking her thumb into her mouth and closing her eyes. Smiling peacefully, Jack rests his lips against the crown of his daughter's head, walking back down the hall towards her bedroom. Stepping over the threshold, he goes over to Harper's bed and lays her in it, quietly humming a chantey as he pulls the covers over her tiny body. Kneeling at her side, Jack runs his fingers through the little girl's silky tresses, a tiny smile turning the corners of his mouth up, causing the faintest wrinkles to appear at the corners of his eyes, the wrinkles one gets from smiling all the time. Harper opens her eyes, looking up at the man still humming to her.
"Papa?" She whispers, removing her thumb from her mouth. Jack leans up and sits no the edge of the girl's bed, his hand buried in her hair to cradle the back of her head.
"Yes, love?"
Snuggling into her pillow, Harper yawns, releasing the faintest mewl.
"Tell me about the time you and mama first met?"
Sparrow chuckles as he leans down, kissing his daughter's baby-soft temple with another smile.
"Later, deary. You need to sleep."
Nodding, Jack Sparrow's four-year-old daughter curls up under the covers, whispering goodnight. Smiling, the father stares at his greatest treasure for a moment longer before getting off of the tiny bed and walking out of her room, turning and shutting the door behind him with a mute click as the metal latch slides into place. Taking a step back from it, Jack turns and begins to make his way towards the other end of the hall to the stairs. He inches past Sadie's door with apprehension, wanting only to break it down and get back to the woman on the other side who seems so adamant about staying away from him. Against his better judgment, Jack pauses at her door, one bejeweled hand raised to knock. He stares at the mahogany entry for a moment, trying multiple times to will his hand to move. But knowing at least when not to bother a woman, Sadie most of all, he moves away with a tormented and pitiful sigh and walks away, scuffing his bare feet against the floorboards with one hand grasping his opposite wrist behind his back.
Behind the retreating form of Captain Sparrow, the doorway he had been standing at opens, revealing the head and shoulders of a woman with pale hair and doe blue eyes. Her long fingers wrap around the edge of the door, eyes watching the man ahead waver down the stairs to the den. Sadie goes to step over the threshold and follow Jack, but a sound from down the other end of the hall stops her, sneaking behind the doorframe. A moment passes, the woman noticing that an orange glow has saturated the bottom floor, when a small figure walks past. Sadie watches as her daughter tiptoes past, her dainty little nightdress swishing at her feet. As Harper disappears, Sadie pokes her head out to watch as the child descends the stairs in pursuit of her father. When her dark head passes out of sight, the woman lingering behind sneaks out of her bedroom to follow.
At the foot of the stairs, Sadie peers around the wall into the den to where Jack is letting his jacket, sash and belts fall to the floor, facing the warm fire burning in the brick hearth. Standing not two or three feet behind him is their daughter, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Jack sits on the floor before the flames with a grunt, his rigid body relaxingly slumping forward. With his loose shirt devoid of vest and coat hanging limply on his torso, the fabric painted a brilliant orange, his navy blue trousers tinted as well, Jack looks more like a painting than a live man, even with the pained look cast upon his wrought face.
"Papa?" Harper's petite voice whispers amongst the crackling of the flames in the hearth. Jack turns around quickly in surprise, his hardened face becoming lax, dark eyes brightening upon taking one look at his child daughter. Harper bows her hear and walks towards her father, taking his outstretched hand.
"I told you to go to bed, Harper Rose," he whispers, pulling the little girl into his lap. She nods, snuggling into Jack's embrace.
"I couldn't sleep. And you looked melonpolly."
Jack chuckles, shaking his head. Sadie, still watching from behind the wall, catches the glint of gold from Jack's smile.
"It's melancholy, my dear. And I wasn't sad – you must be mistaken."
The child in his arms shakes her head, twisting a strand of beads in her fingers.
"No papa, you're sad because mama's unhappy."
Jack's smile disappears, his eyes falling to Harper, falling asleep quickly in the crook of his elbow. Sparrow nods, kissing her brow.
"Aye. You can see right through me, can't you?" He asks, but he receives no reply, as the little girl breathes evenly in and out, arms crossed against her chest. Jack chuckles again, leaning his head against his daughter's. "Right through me."
Sadie's hand comes to rest at her heart, tears welling up under her lashes. It is true, she is unhappy, as Nemie recently passed away. In her will she left the estate to Sadie, who immediately handed it over to the government of Port Isaac. Unfortunately for Jack, he has been on the receiving end of negativity the past few days because of her old nurse's death, casting a glom over their household in Port Royal. Quietly, Sadie moves away from behind the wall towards the sitting figures of her family, gripping a handful of her shift. Standing behind Jack's left shoulder, she puts a nervous hand on it, causing her partner to jump in surprise. He looks up at her, and Sadie gives him a sheepish grin. Without a word, she kneels at his side and reaches across his lap to caress the side of Harper's sleeping face. Pulling away, Sadie glances up into Jack's gaze and sighs.
"I'm sorry, Jack," she whispers, taking one of his hands in her own. Leaning her head on his shoulder in a silent pleading for forgiveness, Sadie watches their daughter sleep comfortably. A moment passes in silence save for the merry cackling of the fire before them, and Sadie does not notice Jack's hand come up to her face until his coarse are settled under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.
"You do realize that it drives me insane when you shut me out?"
Shamefully, the woman nods, gripping Jack's hand tighter. He smirks and brings Sadie's face closer to his, letting their lips settle against each other for a lingering moment's kiss. Jack pulls away reluctantly and wraps his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him as well as their sleeping child. Once Sadie is under night's spell too, Jack turns his gaze away from her and into the fire, a content smile on his face. In the flames he can see the life he left behind, aboard The Black Pearl with his crew. The moment he had learned of Sadie's pregnancy, he ordered immediate docking in Port Royal. The Turners were kind enough to find a home for them to settle into, not too far away from their own home, but enough away to avoid the navy and other intrusive eyes coming to bother him and his family. Gibbs took command of the Pearl, sailing off with Ana Maria and Cotton and everyone else who cared to stay. It had been painful to leave the sea, for Jack, but knowing a child would come of his staying gave him the peace he needed. Now with his daughter in one arm and his lady in the other, the idea of sailing is more of a passing fancy than a dire need. Carefully, Sparrow clutches Harper and lays on the floor, placing his precious child on his chest and holding Sadie close to his side, the sleeping woman reflexively draping an arm across his stomach. Holding his family near, Jack Sparrow closes his eyes and exhales, allowing the sounds of his girls' breathing to lull him to sleep.
Well, there you have it! The first chapter!
Love
Rachel
