Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters,
I only wish I did
Thanks: Thanks to Griffinkhan for revising my story and giving me ideas.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Undead
It knew where he was. The thing of evil that he had dreaded and feared and hid from so long had finally found him. In the darkness of his bedchamber, he prayed and sought for some way out. In the depths of his mind, he searched.and knew that to face this evil was to overcome it. Still, he was afraid.of the consequences of such an act. He was not a man of action, he was a coward. One who watched countless men die for a cause and had not the honor to do the same. He, who wanted nothing to do with war, he who was afraid of blood lest it stain him. He was afraid of death and of old age that was creeping over him shaping the folds of his skin into wrinkles. He could taste the stench of rotted flesh now.hovering in the air.staining the very breath he breathed. Driven by hate, he felt it drawing nearer and nearer, blind and hungering for death. He could hear its silent screams as it searched.and he knew it would find him even in the darkness of the room. The door creaked open, and he peered around the curtains of his bed, but saw nothing. He stumbled out of bed, his fear gnawing on his nerves. His hands shook as he fumbled with a match to light the candle on his washstand.
"Is s-someone th-there?" he stuttered, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. Something moved past his feet, and he shrieked, letting go of his candle.but it did not hit the floor. He gasped, for the thing of his nightmares had caught the candle. He could not move, his terror immobilizing him. There, right before him was the hand that he had severed from the arm of the pirate, that fateful night on the "Dauntless". The flesh was mottled, reeking of filth, missing large chunks of skin, and the bones showing through. In its palm, he saw that it was clutching something though he couldn't see what it was. It pointed at him, an ominous sign of what was to come. Without warning, it flew at him, tearing and clawing at his face. It grasped for the owners pride and joy.his most valuable possession.his wig. The Governor, now aware of the hand's intention, let out a battle cry and fought tooth and nail against it. But the hand had a will of its own. It grabbed the wig atop the governor's head and tried to run. Except, it had underestimated the strength of Governor Swann when it came to his wig.
"NOOOO!!!!" he cried and flung himself on the hand. It now came down to this, this last battle against his fears, his last chance to prove himself, his last chance to.. "Father!!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she saw her father thrashing around on the floor. He looked up at her, confusion clouding his face. Had it all been a dream? "Father, are you all right?" She asked, her face lined with worry " I'm fine, Elizabeth." When he saw her doubtful face he added, "Really I am". "Well, all right." she said, her voice still dubious. She helped him back up and then, shaking her head made her way back to her room. He sighed; maybe old age was finally catching up with him. He shuffled back over to his bed but stopped, his eyes filled with disbelief and terror.
There, on his pillow, lay the severed hand. In its palm, gleaming in its own light, was a piece of the cursed treasure of Cortez.
Thanks: Thanks to Griffinkhan for revising my story and giving me ideas.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Undead
It knew where he was. The thing of evil that he had dreaded and feared and hid from so long had finally found him. In the darkness of his bedchamber, he prayed and sought for some way out. In the depths of his mind, he searched.and knew that to face this evil was to overcome it. Still, he was afraid.of the consequences of such an act. He was not a man of action, he was a coward. One who watched countless men die for a cause and had not the honor to do the same. He, who wanted nothing to do with war, he who was afraid of blood lest it stain him. He was afraid of death and of old age that was creeping over him shaping the folds of his skin into wrinkles. He could taste the stench of rotted flesh now.hovering in the air.staining the very breath he breathed. Driven by hate, he felt it drawing nearer and nearer, blind and hungering for death. He could hear its silent screams as it searched.and he knew it would find him even in the darkness of the room. The door creaked open, and he peered around the curtains of his bed, but saw nothing. He stumbled out of bed, his fear gnawing on his nerves. His hands shook as he fumbled with a match to light the candle on his washstand.
"Is s-someone th-there?" he stuttered, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. Something moved past his feet, and he shrieked, letting go of his candle.but it did not hit the floor. He gasped, for the thing of his nightmares had caught the candle. He could not move, his terror immobilizing him. There, right before him was the hand that he had severed from the arm of the pirate, that fateful night on the "Dauntless". The flesh was mottled, reeking of filth, missing large chunks of skin, and the bones showing through. In its palm, he saw that it was clutching something though he couldn't see what it was. It pointed at him, an ominous sign of what was to come. Without warning, it flew at him, tearing and clawing at his face. It grasped for the owners pride and joy.his most valuable possession.his wig. The Governor, now aware of the hand's intention, let out a battle cry and fought tooth and nail against it. But the hand had a will of its own. It grabbed the wig atop the governor's head and tried to run. Except, it had underestimated the strength of Governor Swann when it came to his wig.
"NOOOO!!!!" he cried and flung himself on the hand. It now came down to this, this last battle against his fears, his last chance to prove himself, his last chance to.. "Father!!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she saw her father thrashing around on the floor. He looked up at her, confusion clouding his face. Had it all been a dream? "Father, are you all right?" She asked, her face lined with worry " I'm fine, Elizabeth." When he saw her doubtful face he added, "Really I am". "Well, all right." she said, her voice still dubious. She helped him back up and then, shaking her head made her way back to her room. He sighed; maybe old age was finally catching up with him. He shuffled back over to his bed but stopped, his eyes filled with disbelief and terror.
There, on his pillow, lay the severed hand. In its palm, gleaming in its own light, was a piece of the cursed treasure of Cortez.