Hello people! I know I haven't written in a VERY long time, but I came to realise how crap my grammar was when I actually wrote this story a while back. Of course, at the time I hadn't noticed because I was so wrapped up in finishing each chapter! Anyway, I know it still isnt perfect, but it is better.
This story was once called 'The Benefits of Mr. Sparrow' but I have changed it to 'Pirate Love' because I find that it is mroe suitable. Anyway, there's more plot to this, and any reviews of any sort are welcome!
Pirate Love
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You pick up your bag and start to shove through the crowds. Admitting to yourself, you decide that crowds are just not your cup of tea. They were always full of annoying people. That was one of the reasons you decided to move to a wonderful, hot, relaxing place: The Caribbean.
Back home, everything was just too 'casual' for you. You wanted something that caused chaos. After you saw the Pirates of the Caribbean movie, you just wanted to be on the beach and in the sun. Of course, after some thorough research, you sadly found that no real attractive pirates actually existed anymore, let along ever did exist.
You pull up your bag from the rotating belt carriage and head out. A burly man dressed in black clothes stops you, "Miss, I need to check your pass port."
Reluctantly, you pull your passport out and hold it for him to see. A moment passes and you say, "So are you -"
Before you can finish your sentence, he has reached over and wrenched your bag from your unsuspecting fingers and bolted into the crowd, disappearing with your belongings.
Your jaw drops and you start to scream and run in the same direction.
"Oi! You! Give me my bag! You fu - " You stumble gracelessly into some tourists, knocking their souvenirs from their fingers.
Eventually slipping past the immense mobs of tour groups, you push past an elderly couple in time to see a regular sized man stick his foot out and send the bag-snatcher flying forward, landing on his face.
"Wha'cha step, boy", the stranger stated with a cynical expression.
The stranger bends down, snags your bag from the thief and looks disgustingly at the sprawled and dazed man upon the ground, before turning towards you.
Suddenly his expression is more inviting.
You vaguely study the saviour. Regular height, bronzed skin (most likely from the sun), slim, but seemingly well-toned body, darkest brown hair that fell loosely around his face and matching eyes and a well-groomed moustache with small fragments of stubble growing on his chin.
Standing awestruck and unsure, you watch as he approaches you and easily gets past the tour groups with ease.
"M'lady, is this yer's?" he asks with a polite smile.
You nod slowly, a slight blush running up your cheeks. He lifts the bag and you take it from him, your fingers brushing his warm hand for a brief second.
"Thank you," you say in a grateful voice, "that was very nice of you." He smiled warmly at you, pretending to lift a top hat from his head and tipping it graciously.
"Pleasure 'elping a lady in need", he says in a warm, yet grumbled voice.
He disappears in the crowds with a cheeky grin on his face, and for a moment you can't help but feel you're going to become fond of that man, that is if you ever meet him again.
-
You're at your new flat now. The place isn't as great as it looked in the photos, but its acceptable. Finding that your parents had sent over all your things and they were all boxed in the living room. Having relations in the district, you had been invited to a historical dress-up gathering down by the fort that over looked the beautiful horizon.
Scurrying around the room, you find the box that held your already pre-organised costume, make-up and shoes and begin to get ready.
Unfortunately, you had the horrid jet lag surging through your body and were grateful that you had a complete six hours to get ready; three for some food and sleep, three for getting dressed and curling your hair.
-
You can't help but smile broadly as you gaze at yourself at the wall sized mirror. Already finishing your make-up and curled, styled up hair, you begin to pull your costume on.
Slipping the corset on, you began to pull the laces on the front as tight as you found was suitable, but not too tight. You wanted to be able to stay conscious for the majority of the night.
Pulling on the beautifully crafted red dress, you smother out any unnecessary gatherings and creases in the material. So far, so good, you think to yourself…
Having almost finished preparing, you stand at the mirror again, examining the sudden fashion change. The dress hugged at your hips wonderfully, and pushed up your not-normally-large looking breasts. You had a pretty fit body, slim and well-toned, yet when if came to working out at the gym three times a week and eating a lot of healthy food, it had in turn reduced what could have been an enormous bosom.
You shrug, It's not like I really need huge tits anyway. I like my stomach better.
You finally slip your feet into the unusually shaped shoes and walk around in them for the better half of two hours, just to make sure you don't fall over on the cobble stone grounds outside.
Finally, you find a small handbag and slip various essentials into it: lip gloss, deodorant, blush and foundation, a mirror and just for the historical touch, a small black flip-fan.
-
You sit back down on the bed and wonder what you can do for the remaining forty or so minutes until you had to meet a carriage down the road. If the driveway to the front door wasn't so steep, the carriage would have been capable of coming up but the driveway wasn't really safe for two horses and heavy wood.
Sighing, you decided that you might as well go for a quick stroll outside in the evening warmth and have a bit of a tour along the road beside your new home. The streets were almost deserted; only a few shops still remained open. You pass a vegies market, various corner stores and finally, a bookshop and antique store.
There was a sudden drawn feeling that you wanted to walk into the eerie, ancient looking antique store. It had a very intriguing feel.
Port Royal's Antique Miscreants!
You look at the clock tower and see that you have twenty minutes. Curiosity gets the best of you and you walk into the shop. Expecting it to smell stale and old, your greeted with the scent of the ocean and oils.
"'Ello lass!" A grumbling voice comes from the counter.
You spin around and see an aging man standing by the glass cabinet and counter. He beared the marking of the sea, yet full of life and light. You can't help but smile at his linen clothes and large greying lamb-chop side burns.
"Hello, sir", you reply kindly.
He nods politely and notices that your wearing a costume, "Miss, I see tha' yer goin' up ter tha' party at tha' fort?"
You nod as your eyes begin to explore the intriguing artefacts, "Yeah I am, but I feel like I'm missing something from my costume"; you stop to look at a large cutlass on the wall. It's finely crafted, yet the gold has age and millennium gleaming from it. A name is scrawled into it. You squint, and find that you decide it says W.T. Your thoughts are drawn away from the cutlass as the shop-owner begins to talk again.
"Well, miss, we 'ave lots of thing's 'ere tha' woul' top yer costume off", he watches as you reach the glass cabinet and look at the gold jewellery.
You peer through the glass at the wondrously crafted gold, silver and gemmed jewellery, "I'm looking for something…hmm…necklace or ring?"
You notice the shop owner move to stand next to you and eyes your costume then scans the contents of the glass cabinet.
You follow his eyes, until finally it stopped upon the alluring glisten of a gold pendant and necklace.
"Aye, woul' say necklace", the man says as he opens the cabinet and takes the necklace out.
The medallion, as the shop owner explained later on, was of ancient age, pure Aztec gold and remarkably light, but incredibly strong. It had sufficed to terrible conditions, but only small traces of age graced its exterior.
He reached for your hand, and places the cool metal in your open palm. You examine the beautiful ornament, and then sigh.
You frown and hand it back to him, "Its really nice, but I don't have any money on me, and even if I did," your shrug, "I don't think I could afford it."
Shockingly, he rips the small price tag off, put the box upon the table and holds the medallion out to you, "Lass, I can see tha' yer not a usual girl," he says with a warm smile, "I 'avent 'ad a decent person ter talk ter in days and yer just lightened me mood."
Reluctantly, you open your palm and he places the metal once more in your warm hand.
"Yer a nice lass, and I don' see any bad luck in yer", he smiles and closes your hand over it. Without another word, he turns and went to tend to his emptying flask.
-
Sitting silently in the carriage and repeating the two odd encounters you had had during the day, you fiddle with the medallion that rested at the top of your dress. Finally, you hear the carriage driver call out for your arrival, the door opens and your brought into the historical reality.
You step up into the fort and look around. People are crowded everywhere and all of them had masks, so you could not see who they were. They were playing classical music to fit in with the theme.
Walking around for a while, just observing the view and fellow patrons costume choice; you find that you're highly impressed. Sighing, you walk over to the buffet near the edge of the fort and take a small cup of rum. Drinking it quickly, you scoff at yourself then feel slightly regretful at the sudden gesture.
"Good evening, fair lady." An English male voice says.
Turning around, a fairly tall man with traces of the sun upon his cheeks beams at you. His eyes are a deep brown, and his brown hair is pulled back into a low ribbon. Although he held up a mask to cover his eyes and most of his face, he had kind features.
"Hello, kind sir", you reply and curtsy.
He smiles and begins a conversation, "Are you new here?"
You reply, "Yeah I am. I only arrived a few hours ago. You?"
A mysterious smile creeps onto his lips. One that you can't help but recognise as one you had used so many times when you found yourself in trouble in high school.
"In some ways you could say I'm fairly new, in other ways," he stops and takes a sip of his water, "you could say I've been here for centuries!"
A small polite laugh comes from your lips, but you're not certain about what he had meant. You disregard the entire thing and continue to talk.
He introduces himself as Will, and as a job description works as a Black smith. Without much thought, you also introduce yourself, claiming that you arrived in Port Royal in a large ship.
The chatting continued, and you find yourself having your seventh rum. Why in the world am I drinking this? I don't even really like this stuff!
"You sure do like your ru - ", Will is interrupted as a waiter trips over a ladies dress and spills the glasses of wine onto you. You shriek from the sudden temperature change on your chest and step back.
Will's eyes suddenly look fearful as you trip on your dress and fall back over the edge. A long, dreadful scream erupts from your lips as you feel your body falls into nothing, then finally landing hard and painfully in the water.
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