The Writings of Jack Sparrow continued.
Due to a somewhat demanding request from AbbieNormal182, I've decided to write more to this story that I started. I never intended to, but as I've received some good feedback I'll add some more on and hopefully answer some of those burning questions! Enjoy.
~Distant Echo.
The Writings of Jack Sparrow continued.
Things change all the time. Nothing ever stays the same. It's only when something makes so much of an impact on your lives that everything is suddenly brought sharply into focus. She loved me with all her heart. She loved me so much that it hurt my heart so much when she finally left me for good. I never speak of this. Not to my friends. It's not the sort of thing I would like them to hear, or to have to endure themselves. I remember the day she and I first met. My whole world stopped when everyone else's continued. I felt like a nervous child again. I remember those feelings when I was much younger-the days of when I would stand at the shore waiting to watch the Black Pearl come back to land. I would wait for hours even days at a time just so I could see her black sails caught high in the morning breeze. My father would be manning her so smoothly and so well that no waves were rippled as she cruised against the wash of blue. Those feelings all came back to me when I met her. She was the only woman who managed to tie Jack Sparrow down. No one-not even my own mother could tie me down. Apparently, I have a somewhat hapless and spontaneous streak, as they say. I don't care what they say. I'm happy with being off the wall and slightly different. Very different in fact. She loved me for that. She didn't have any faults with me or the way I was and I believe that she was the only woman who would ever feel that way. I remember the night we met was the clearest night I'd ever seen. The moon was so bright in the sky that the reflection on the sea seemed to go on endlessly. He golden hair had caught in the breeze, showing her milky-white skin and her flawless features. What she ever saw in me, I didn't know. She smelt like the sea, like the ocean at dawn, when the sun is warming up the land. Her smiled was intoxicating, almost. I was drawn to her, drawn to that smile and her eyes that always shone so brightly. They held so much emotion, but always seemed to be laughing. She was always laughing. She was rarely ever sad. She just wanted to have fun and be free like me. We shared that. We shared out love for freedom. That's what held us so tightly together. We both wanted needed one thing so much and so passionately that we knew nothing could stand in our way to get it. We were wrong. Things can block your way to truths and happiness and the greatest contender to that is death.
When I was small, my father promised me that he would always return from his travels. Whenever he set off to leave, he would always give me a silver ring with a black onyx jewel in the middle of the band. This was his promise that he would return and, when he did, I would hand it back to him and a silent bond between father and son, between two pirates who did not need words in order to show their love. Pirates do not show their love like men and women do, like normal father and son, never would they-its just not how things are done. My father never ever told me that he loved me, but I just knew that he did. I didn't need him to tell me that. I didn't need it in writing. My mother never told me either, but I didn't love her. And I somehow knew that she didn't love me, either. She wasn't a true pirate. She hated being a pirate and would always deny any accusation whereas my father and me relished the chance to show who we were. I still do. She left my father and me when I was just seven years old but I didn't care. I never liked her anyway.
The Black Pearl is the most precious thing in my life now. Its what was left to me when my father never returned-along with the ring he would give me on his trips, this was my legacy. I loved the Black Pearl. I remember the first time he took me out to sea, it was the most perfect ship. Its black sails were like a huge declaration of who we were. We had a skull and Crossbones flag and I loved to just sit in the Crows nest just hearing it flap in the breeze when we sailed through the waves. He would always stand tall at the wheel and nothing could ever take away his pride that he felt on that boat. He was taken from me by means of death too. But I could handle this. He was old, he wasn't stealing as much anymore and he did not seem to have the passion for life that he once had. In truth, he was sick. He was ill and had been for a long time. He died on the Black Pearl when returning to his homeland and, in true pirate fashion, I did not shed any tears for him. He would not have wanted that.
Now here's a funny thought. Rum. I love rum. It makes me feel so warm inside! I recall a time when Rum did not ever have an affect in my life, but that was when I was young and stupid. I first tasted rum when I was sixteen. I remember it burning my throat as it made its way down and I was abruptly sick afterwards. Then I had a little bit more, and a little bit more after that and now I have to have it whenever I get chance. I love it. "A true pirates drink is his rum" that's what I always say. Without Rum I would be rum-less. Ha! I'm not drunk as I write this. Just slightly tipsy. If I was drunk I wouldn't even be able to hold a quill let alone write a whole paragraph. Looking back on some of the things I've written this month seems to me I'm a bit depressed. I'm not though. Pirates don't get depressed. They go and steal things and then feel better. I think I might go and steel some more rum.
Today is the worst day. My head is throbbing. I don't know what I did last night but I do know I fell over a stupidly placed crate and banged my head. Hard. I woke up in the sand and I don't know how I got there but I do know I won't be drinking again. For a few hours at least. Stupid high-class people have invaded my island. They heard that a group of pirates were hiding out here and came to get rid of us. Well I'm determined to make sure that doesn't happen.
I've been captured twice and they still didn't think who it was they were dealing with. Jack Sparrow, they seem to forget, can get out of any fall, scrape, mix, fight, plan and occurrence without question and that's just what I've done. I'm after one person in particular. He's a bloody high- class expensive person and he decided to take something from me. Now whose trying to be a pirate?
-I will add more if people want me to continue, but I've run out of time today to write anymore to this section. Please review this and let me know how you feel, feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. ~Distant Echo.
Due to a somewhat demanding request from AbbieNormal182, I've decided to write more to this story that I started. I never intended to, but as I've received some good feedback I'll add some more on and hopefully answer some of those burning questions! Enjoy.
~Distant Echo.
The Writings of Jack Sparrow continued.
Things change all the time. Nothing ever stays the same. It's only when something makes so much of an impact on your lives that everything is suddenly brought sharply into focus. She loved me with all her heart. She loved me so much that it hurt my heart so much when she finally left me for good. I never speak of this. Not to my friends. It's not the sort of thing I would like them to hear, or to have to endure themselves. I remember the day she and I first met. My whole world stopped when everyone else's continued. I felt like a nervous child again. I remember those feelings when I was much younger-the days of when I would stand at the shore waiting to watch the Black Pearl come back to land. I would wait for hours even days at a time just so I could see her black sails caught high in the morning breeze. My father would be manning her so smoothly and so well that no waves were rippled as she cruised against the wash of blue. Those feelings all came back to me when I met her. She was the only woman who managed to tie Jack Sparrow down. No one-not even my own mother could tie me down. Apparently, I have a somewhat hapless and spontaneous streak, as they say. I don't care what they say. I'm happy with being off the wall and slightly different. Very different in fact. She loved me for that. She didn't have any faults with me or the way I was and I believe that she was the only woman who would ever feel that way. I remember the night we met was the clearest night I'd ever seen. The moon was so bright in the sky that the reflection on the sea seemed to go on endlessly. He golden hair had caught in the breeze, showing her milky-white skin and her flawless features. What she ever saw in me, I didn't know. She smelt like the sea, like the ocean at dawn, when the sun is warming up the land. Her smiled was intoxicating, almost. I was drawn to her, drawn to that smile and her eyes that always shone so brightly. They held so much emotion, but always seemed to be laughing. She was always laughing. She was rarely ever sad. She just wanted to have fun and be free like me. We shared that. We shared out love for freedom. That's what held us so tightly together. We both wanted needed one thing so much and so passionately that we knew nothing could stand in our way to get it. We were wrong. Things can block your way to truths and happiness and the greatest contender to that is death.
When I was small, my father promised me that he would always return from his travels. Whenever he set off to leave, he would always give me a silver ring with a black onyx jewel in the middle of the band. This was his promise that he would return and, when he did, I would hand it back to him and a silent bond between father and son, between two pirates who did not need words in order to show their love. Pirates do not show their love like men and women do, like normal father and son, never would they-its just not how things are done. My father never ever told me that he loved me, but I just knew that he did. I didn't need him to tell me that. I didn't need it in writing. My mother never told me either, but I didn't love her. And I somehow knew that she didn't love me, either. She wasn't a true pirate. She hated being a pirate and would always deny any accusation whereas my father and me relished the chance to show who we were. I still do. She left my father and me when I was just seven years old but I didn't care. I never liked her anyway.
The Black Pearl is the most precious thing in my life now. Its what was left to me when my father never returned-along with the ring he would give me on his trips, this was my legacy. I loved the Black Pearl. I remember the first time he took me out to sea, it was the most perfect ship. Its black sails were like a huge declaration of who we were. We had a skull and Crossbones flag and I loved to just sit in the Crows nest just hearing it flap in the breeze when we sailed through the waves. He would always stand tall at the wheel and nothing could ever take away his pride that he felt on that boat. He was taken from me by means of death too. But I could handle this. He was old, he wasn't stealing as much anymore and he did not seem to have the passion for life that he once had. In truth, he was sick. He was ill and had been for a long time. He died on the Black Pearl when returning to his homeland and, in true pirate fashion, I did not shed any tears for him. He would not have wanted that.
Now here's a funny thought. Rum. I love rum. It makes me feel so warm inside! I recall a time when Rum did not ever have an affect in my life, but that was when I was young and stupid. I first tasted rum when I was sixteen. I remember it burning my throat as it made its way down and I was abruptly sick afterwards. Then I had a little bit more, and a little bit more after that and now I have to have it whenever I get chance. I love it. "A true pirates drink is his rum" that's what I always say. Without Rum I would be rum-less. Ha! I'm not drunk as I write this. Just slightly tipsy. If I was drunk I wouldn't even be able to hold a quill let alone write a whole paragraph. Looking back on some of the things I've written this month seems to me I'm a bit depressed. I'm not though. Pirates don't get depressed. They go and steal things and then feel better. I think I might go and steel some more rum.
Today is the worst day. My head is throbbing. I don't know what I did last night but I do know I fell over a stupidly placed crate and banged my head. Hard. I woke up in the sand and I don't know how I got there but I do know I won't be drinking again. For a few hours at least. Stupid high-class people have invaded my island. They heard that a group of pirates were hiding out here and came to get rid of us. Well I'm determined to make sure that doesn't happen.
I've been captured twice and they still didn't think who it was they were dealing with. Jack Sparrow, they seem to forget, can get out of any fall, scrape, mix, fight, plan and occurrence without question and that's just what I've done. I'm after one person in particular. He's a bloody high- class expensive person and he decided to take something from me. Now whose trying to be a pirate?
-I will add more if people want me to continue, but I've run out of time today to write anymore to this section. Please review this and let me know how you feel, feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. ~Distant Echo.