This is the first thing I've posted. Please be kind to it. If it seems a little bit strange and disjointed that's because I wrote it late at night after looking at graveyards all day.

disclaimer: if I owned Jack and the rest my life would be much more interesting. But I don't, so its not. ah well.

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Jack was halfway up the ratlines. He moved slowly. His hands ached and his boots were slippery with blood. One foot slipped and he felt the petrifying terror in his gut that he hadn't felt in years. I haven't even fallen! God, what's wrong with me? He looked, and felt, a bloody mess. He was shivering under his thick coat and he couldn't stand the dim glare of the setting sun off of the water even with his hat to shield his eyes. Dark red, almost black stained down his left side.

He shouldn't be up here, he though, he was going to fall. The wind was fast enough and the waves high enough. But he had to get up to the top of the mast. Had to get to somewhere he could think. Were he couldn't hear anything but the wind, or feel anything but wind and the strong smooth wood beneath him, where he couldn't see anything but the world.

He got to the top and saw the moon, huge and heavy looking, just over the horizon, like a coin he could reach out and grab. And so he did. And to his surprise it came out of the sky and into his hand. It was smooth and heavy with the texture of pottery that has sat in the sea, being worn down to a soft finish. He pulled it over his knuckles, making it dance over his fingers. He looked at the side he always saw up in the sky, running his thumbs over the pockmarked surface; then he flipped it over. A crab stood up. Its shell was the back of the moon, so when it was sitting down one wouldn't even know it was there.

"Jack, You're falling," it said.

"I know" he replied, thinking over what had befallen him since he had lost the Pearl. It was all he could hope that he might see her again. The ship he was on was dieing. She knew it; he knew it. The crew was dead. Jack had spent an entire day sewing them into hammocks and dropping them reverently over the side. He hoped that he hadn't climbed up the last remaining mast on the ship to die.

"No, Jack, you're really falling." it said.

Jack's eyes burst open just as he hit the waves. Oh, bugger. His side started to bleed again and the pain made him suck in a breath of cold, salty water. As lightning illuminated the now stormy world, he saw an island. And although it looked like the coldest, most painful, misbegotten island in the entire world, it looked better than the angry sea and the ship it was sinking.

Well if he ever got out of this one he wouldn't even have to exaggerate the stories.

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Please review! I'd love to know what you think!