Prologue
It all started on a cool day in September. The Rain had started to pour down from the heavens in torrents. A perfect day to read a novel. Alas it was not to be. My mother, in all her brilliantness decided it was time for me to practice the Aria I was to sing at my birthday. Quite a bore really. Of course, if it weren't raining, I would be down on the docks. The thrill of the sea washed over the entire area. Stupid rain. Sigh. I was forced to be shut in my prison of high society. After I had finished destroying my vocal cords, I went to my room. I curled up in the window seat, and began reading my favorite novel.
The next morning, I awoke, and it was a bright and shining morning. One of the maids had come in, and opened the French windows facing the port. The cool, salty breeze flowed in. I could hear the cry of the gulls, and the crashing of the surf on the vast, sandy beach. I smiled to myself. This was going to be good.
After my afternoon lessons were through, I decided to take a walk along the beach. I stepped out of my high-heeled shoes, and pulled off my stockings. I left them lying near one of the docks that lined the shore line. As I walked, the tide was coming in, covering more of my feet with each approaching wave. I turned, and looked out onto the horizon. What I saw made me feel a little light headed. Fast approaching was a large vessel. It was flying no colors, and its sails were black. I quickly turned and ran back to the manor house I was forced to call home.
As I walked into the hall, my father and mother rushed in from the library to see what the commotion I was causing was all about.
"Pirate" I stammered. My mother and father looked at me with wild eyes. "Black sails. They're approaching the port" A panicked look flashed across my father's face.
"Sheila" he yelled to my mother. "Get her upstairs, and make sure nothing and no one gets in or out." I was confused by my father's actions but, I had no time to ponder this. My mother dragged me off to my bedroom.
LINE BREAK(1)
I sat up strait in bed, covered in a cold sweat. I looked at the alarm clock sitting on my night table and sighed. It was 3:30 a.m. This was the third time this week I had woken up from that dream. It had all seemed so real. Too real. I slid out of bed and shakily walked to the small bathroom just outside my room. I stared into the blue eyes of my reflection. Too thin, pale, and too much thick black hair. I sighed. This was me.
The next morning, I ducked out of the small New England home of my current foster family. I crept down to the shore that the house back up to. I sat down in the san and tucked my knees into my chest as the chilly waves crashed onto the nearly white sand. As if it were my dream, something appeared on the horizon. Something large, black, and fast. I stood quickly, a little too quickly I guess, and felt light headed. All of a sudden there was a flash of white light, and I felt myself falling. I expected to hit the sand, but instead I kept falling into the abyss. While I was falling I could distinctly hear a woman's voice in my ear.
"You have a touch of destiny about you child. A touch of destiny..." Her voice echoed around me as I felt myself hit hard wood, and heard the drunken and surprised cries of many men...