"Shh, Charlotte. It's going to be okay," she soothed me, "They won't come up this far. They'll stick to the shops and richer spots."
"Mama, I'm scared," tears rolled down my cheeks, "I wan' Papa."
"I know, luv, I know," her voice began to shake slightly, "How about we sing?"
"Mama-" I squeaked as another gunshot reverberated.
"Hush now, my baby Be still love, don't cry Sleep like you're rocked by the sea Sleep and remember My lullaby And I'll be with you when you dream
Drift on a wave That flows through my arms Drift as I'm singing to you I see you smiling So peaceful and calm And holding you, I'm smiling, too Here in my arms Safe from all harm Holding you, I'm smiling, too
Hush now, my baby Be still, love, don't cry Sleep like you're rocked by the sea Sleep and remember this river lullaby And I'll be with you when you dream I'll be with you when you dream."
"Mama, someone bad's coming," I whispered, clinging to her skirts.
"Beckett. He found me," Mama quickly slipped her necklace over my head, a locket Papa had given her when they got married, "I'm sending you to your gran and your aunt, alright? You'll be safer with them," she looked terrified, something I had never seen her before, "I love you, Charlotte."
"Love you, too, Mama," she was sweating as she created a blue-green swirl and pushed me through. All I could see was our window, now a moving painting. The moon was a sliver, eaten away by darkness, but it was enough to see the ship anchored in the harbor. It was darker than the midnight sky, the sails ripped and black, comforting despite the violence that had surged from it. I couldn't help but think that the ship was not evil, just its crew.
A bang echoed and a cold, Scottish voice cut through the room, "Abigail Jones-Teach. Cutler Beckett sends his regards."
"Go to hell, Mercer!" Mama spat. A gunshot rang in my ears as Mama's favorite shawl, blood-stained, shimmering in the moonlight, flew across the room and got stuck on the frame, covering part of the empty ocean.
"MAMA!"/
I gasped, shooting foward and hitting my head on the ceiling, falling back onto my pillows. I was shaking, clutching my sheets, heart pounding, locket burning over my heart, attempting to slow my breathing. I gently pulled the locket forward and tried to pry it open, as I always did after my nightmare. It held pictures of my parents, something I desperately wished to see. I wanted the comfort it would offer and also to see my father's face again.
He was only a dim shadow in my memory. All I could remember was his deep laugh and how he would catch me as I came flying down the docks, screaming 'Papa!' and throw me up into the air. I shook my head and slid from my covers and down the ladder, landing on the carpet silently. Practice makes perfect, after all.
"Mmmm, pretty blue kitty," I stifled a laugh as my roommate and foster sister mumbled in her sleep. Hayden was notorious for her sleep babble. It was why Gemma, our 5-year-old foster child, got her own room away from us. She couldn't sleep with the babble and I could, "I like my purple shoes!"
I slipped into the study area under my loft bed and turned on the lamp, pulling out one of my sketchbooks. I traced the skull and crossbones cover, grinning at my Gran's sense of humor, before opening it and flicking to a fresh page. The scene flowed from my pencil tip. Mom's scarf fluttered in the wind, the black ship floated on the ocean one more.
"Charlie, why are you awake?" Hayden murmered, peering over the edge, "It's almost three in the morning."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Nightmare?"
"Yep."
"That sucks. Majorly."
I laughed, "Go to sleep, Hayden," and flipped off the lights.
The next day, Gran went out with our Aunt Anna and Uncle Wilhelm. Which meant our cousin Scott had to babysit, the unfortunate eldest at eighteen.
"Girls, please behave!" my poor cousin looked like he wanted to rip his black hair out, "PLEASE?"
He looked like he was going to cry as Gemma ran off yet again, Hayden behind her, both cackling. I was perched in a tree and could see the blue gulf through the houses. A longing stirred in me as I stared at the patch of azure. It was bone-deep and as old as my nightmares. Something about the sea called me.
"Yo!" Hayden pulled herself onto the branch above me, grinning like a mad woman. Gemma was on her back and was promptly deposited in my lap as Hayden balanced herself shakily on the tree.
"You're gonna fall," I sighed slightly, easily settling Gemma in my lap.
"We're up high!" Gemma giggled happily.
"Aye, luv," I spoke in pirate, Gemma's latest obsession, "Don't squirm, savvy?"
"Aye, aye, captain!" Gemma was adorable, brown hair a messy halo around her head, innocent grey eyes shining,
A breeze picked up, carrying a warbled song to my ears, "Do y'all here that?"
"What?"
"The singing!" I strained my ears and made out the melody, then the lyrics, "The king and his men stole the queen from her bed and bound her in her bones-"
A wind began to whip our hair about as Scott's head appeared, "Found you!"
"The seas be ours and by the powers, where we will, we'll roam," I continued, "Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colors high-"
"What the-" Scott began as a blue light began to shimmer.
"Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die."
That was when everything went white.
*If I was mean, I'd leave it there*
"Ouch!"
"What the hell just happened?" Scott sounded near hysteria.
"Welcome tah me home, chil'ren," I looked up to see a woman who resembled Gran with dreadlocks and a dirty gown, "Ya hav' all grown nicely."
"Do we know you, lady?" Hayden asked, wrinkling her nose slightly in confusion.
"Yer gran does, Hayden," the woman's eyes danced, "She be comin' soon. I be Tia Dalma, li'l ones, an' dis be my shop."
"HOW DID WE GET HERE?" Scott wailed, curling into a fetal position. I blame it on over-exposure to Hayden. I really do.
"Oh, Scott," I moved towards him, "Relax. Everything'll be fine."
"I WANNA GO HOME!" My eighteen your old cousin was wailing like a five-year-old girl. I sighed and rubbed my temples, once again blaming my insane best friend.
"Is Scotty okay?" Gemma asked me sweetly.
"No. Hayden made sure of that years ago."
"Charlie!" she whined.
"You are Roger Rabbit personified," I snorted, "Look what ya did to Scott!"
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Heaven help the man you marry, Hayden," Gran's dry voice came from behind us. I whipped around to see here standing there with an amused smirk on her face, "I see you've left a lasting impression on your poor cousin."
"Gran!" she whined. Again.
"What's goin' on, Gran?" My eyebrow had shot up.
"You must have inherited that particular expression from your father. Lord knows your mother never did that."
"Morgan," Tia Dalma embraced Gran warmly, like Mom had once held me, "Welcome 'ome."
"Thanks, Mother."
"Mother?" Our three very shocked voices cried out while Gemma continued to explore the shop obliviously.