Nigel the owl: Just random ramblings and annoying the reader with your talking on and on and on-
Me: Nigel, no treats for you tonight
Nigel: ^shuts up^
Disclaimer: Last time I checked, nothing would fit into my locker due to Jack and Will being shoved in there. But that may also just be the massive amounts of unnecessary books that are shoved in there. No, I do not own POTC or Will or Jack ^glares^ but I do in my small mind in the portion labeled IMAGINATION.
Please do read on before I am forced to boil your heads in rum and oil…^_^
By the way, my way of sword making comes from my IMAGINATION!
The wind blew hard, bits of garbage and pieces of clothing blowing out of trashcans and off clothing lines. Families clustered in their homes, playing the piano or just watching the swirling ocean and the boats rocking on the waves. One lone figure seemed to be alone, sitting in the blacksmith shop. A half beaten red-hot sword was held by the handle, and the man beat at the blade until it was flattened. But, if one were to look close enough, they would spot a young child at his side.
The child watched in wonder as his father beat the metal, being careful to duck out of the way of flying sparks and the hammer. The man was Will Turner, the boy, Jacob Turner. Will's first son and 14 years old. After beating at the metal for a good hour, Will stood up and thrust the sword into a bucket of water to cool it. Jacob ran to his father's side to watch the steam, which rose out of the bucket and stood back as the sword was placed to the side. As Will gathered up his bag and hat, Jacob examined the sword.
"Father…aren't you going to do anymore?" he inquired, staring at the dull blade and plain handle.
"In time" was Will's reply, adjusting his hat. "Now, we had better be going before your mother begins to worry and serves dinner without us, eh?" he joked, causing Jacob to laugh. Will took a quick look out the window before taking the boy's hand. "It's quite windy out, you will want to keep near me. Looks like another nasty storm is brewing." He pulled open the door with much effort and pulled Jacob out after him. The way home, neither spoke. Not that they would have been heard over the howling wind, and both were distracted by the spray of icy water from the sea hitting the coast's rocks.
It was a long walk into the wind before they finally turned a corner onto a street full of large houses with bright windows. They approached a nicely decorated house at the end of the street, hurrying up the steps to get out of the wind. Will pulled the door open and shoved Jacob inside before shutting the door behind them.
"Elizabeth!" Will began to call as a young woman with auburn hair and a line of light freckles over her nose bustled in from the sitting room.
"You made it safely! With all the wind and the waves approaching the town!" Elizabeth exclaimed, embracing each in turn. She took Will's soaking hat and Jacob's cloak, setting them on hooks over a mat to dry. She hurried back off towards the kitchen to prepare dinner. Will followed his wife; Jacob rushed up the sweeping staircase to his room. He threw open the door and closed it loudly behind him. He pulled off his jacket, vest, and boots before collapsing onto his iron bed.
Jacob lay still for a while before sitting up and heading to his desk. He sat in the old wooden chair and lit a lamp. He pulled open the drawer to the desk and pulled out an old notebook. Yellowed pages curled at the edges, the binding slightly broken. The cover was one of old brown leather, plain with no writing on the front. He carefully opened the cover, and page after page of drawings emerged. A ship here, a flag there, each strangely seemed connected to one thing. Pirates. After Jacob's birth, Will officially gave up the thought of being a pirate to settle down with a family. Jacob knew nothing of his father's past.
He flipped through the worn pages for around an hour before his eyes drooped and his head nodded. He laid his head on his desk, but his slumber lasted only a moment, for his bedroom window flew open with the wind. Water from the rain which had started before blew into his room, scattering papers and quills. Jacob rushed to the window to close it, but a curious voice caught his ear. Walking down the streets he could barely see two men and a woman, their heads bowed to the wind. What really caught Jacob off guard was that they stopped in the middle of the road, right in front of his home. And over the howling of the wind, Jacob heard one thing.
"William Turner…It's Captain Jack Sparrow!"
Whoo! Three cheers for lame-ity!
Nigel: Hip hip…Hooray! Hip hip…Hooray! Hip hip-
Me: Nigel, I meant the readers. Cage, now.
Nigel: ^stalks off^
Well, hope you like it. My first try at something semi serious! Please review!