Alright, just a stupid thought up story. No flames please!

Pre-Prologue:

I looked expectantly up at the man who was in front of me. He was quite handsome, with his olive complexion, dark hair with a few dread-locks here and there, and his deep eyes. The beads hanging from his blood red bandanna jiggled every time he moved.

"So," I said, "Are you going to leave your daughter on a port all alone in the middle of Tortouga, or what?"

000—000—000

A Week Previous

I took another sip from the bottle of rum in my hand. I know that I am too young to be in a tavern, let alone drinking, but I didn't really care. Anyway, I was in Tortouga, it's not like drinking is a quiet thing.

My mother, Giselle, wouldn't be expecting me home anytime soon, so I had the night to myself. Which was nice, just me and my rum.

I don't really know my mothers last name, being a prostitute in Tortouga, she had quite a few affairs. Many men came in to our home with the title "dad". I just called them all Chuck.

Oh, I know who my real father is, Giselle has spoken of him often. Most of the time she uses his name though it has 4 or 5 curses in front and behind it . She rants and raves that he is a good for nothing piece of trash for deserting her in this Bloody city with a horrible daughter.

I am the horrible daughter.

I am a proud Horrible Daughter too.

I try as hard as I can to make my mothers life a living Hell. Not that she cares anyway. She doesn't know anything about me. Nothing. I pretty much do whatever I want, which is why I am sitting drinking rum right now.

I put my weathered boots up on the small table in front of me, taking one more drink before setting the bottle down indefinetly. I wanted to have a lite drink, not get drunk. Picking up my satchel, I made my way toward the door of the smokey crowded tavern. Once in the street, I reached up and released the pin holding my curly blonde hair in place. My long tresses fall to my sholders, getting we twith the falling rain. Looking down I make sure not to make eye contact with anyone, looking for the ally that leads to our dingy home.

I look exactly like my mother, long blonde hair, greenish hazel eyes, but I am nothing like her. I hate her.

I'm also not the only "Problem" that my mothers job has thrust upon her. There is five year old Lindsey. 9 year old Edward...And then there's me: 15 year old Briar Paisley Brinker Sparrow, daughter of a pirate.

That was the prologue. More to come if I get at least 4 reviews.

Sarah