Author's note: This dark one shot appeared only in "The Library of the Mighty Black Pearl", so many readers did not see it... I am in the process of writing a holiday fic for my faithful readers, but thought that I would put this drabble up until I can get my new story written... it is the only one that I have written about "Dead Man's Chest"... My thoughts on one single scene, and the cold cruelty of Davy Jones, in his own words..Pirate Cat
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'Sullied an' unusual', eh? So I was able t' get int' tha' elusive, warped mind o' yours, Sparra. I heard ye tell yer first mate tha' ye felt 'sullied an' unusual', an' I saw th' look o' discomfort tha' crossed yer face as I removed th' Black Spot from yer devious, scurvy hand...I inflicted pain, didn't I? 'Sullied an' unusual', indeed... poor little bird!
I knew tha' ye would not want t' leave th' young Turner whelp behind... that it would hurt ye t' leave 'im... and now young Turner will rue th' day tha' he ever met ye! Ye're bad luck, Sparra... ye're bad luck t' yerself an' all tha' cross yer path. Turner an' his father might have called themselves yer friends, once, but not after ye leave them behind... o' course, tha's my doin', but they don't know that... they'll think ye t' be a heartless, selfish bastard, Sparra, an' ye can deal wi' th' loneliness o' losin' their friendship whilst ye're spending yer afterlife in yer own personal hell. They'll never know tha' it was me what made ye leave 'em because I got int' yer head. I enjoyed twisting yer thoughts about... too bad tha' th' Turner whelp will never know tha' ye tried t' barter 'im back from me, twice...
What did ye expect? I raised yer bloody ship fer ye thirteen years ago, an' we had an accord, but bein' a pirate, meself, I never once expected ye t' keep yer end o' the bargain, no matter how many foolish scabs out there say tha' ye might have a bit o' honor about ye. I bided my time, knowin' tha' ye would be yer own undoin'. Yer a fool, Sparra. I still have quite a quandary wi' believin' tha' you, of all people, are a Pirate Lord.
Ye have three days, Sparra, three days t' harvest souls t' repay yer debt t' me an' th' Flyin' Dutchman... an' three hundred years would never be enough! I removed th' Black Spot, but in removin' it, I also gained somethin' else... knowledge...a tidbit o' fortuitous information t' use against ye! I got int' yer mind, Sparra... an' I can now make sure tha' ye have a Locker made just especially fer a mongrel pup like ye... made t' break ye... made t' inflict damage... made t' punish ye... after I have th' Kraken take ye down!
I found out from yer very own mind what it is tha' ye fear! Aye, ye fear death... but with no one else in yer own Locker... wi' no wind, nor sea...wi' no night...only burning white sun... wi' only yer precious scuppered Black Pearl, embraced by hot dry sand, t' keep ye company for eternity, you'll wish ye were simply dead...
...all alone in the Locker, Sparra... do you fear...
...madness?
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