I realize that some people have responded to chapters three and four.
However, my computer refuses to let me check my mail, ergo, I cannot
respond quite yet. I'm sorry.
Anyway, here's the next little bit. It's told from Sparrow's perspective if I made it unclear at all.
Hurry, hurry! Read through it! JACK Sparrow is in the next chapter!! *coughIjusthavetowriteitcough*
I know, seriously, at friggen last.
Interlude
It's a little funny, what goes through your mind in times like these. First, you plot escape, and you hope all goes according to plan. But of course, nothing does. I had tried to escape five times and though three of those times I had succeeded in getting out of that stupid little cage, I had lost my weapons, my clothing and eventually, my endurance. The 'fine' Captain Fitch was smarter than he looked. Pogo noticed this first.
"My father used to do it before he interrogated a prisoner of war." She told me very matter-of-factly, as if I had never heard the story before. There were times when Fitch would feed us once a day, sometimes four times. There was no real schedule and no windows in the 'brigs' so we had no real sense of time, of the hour. The shifts were changed randomly, but always, a pair of sailors sat on steps and watched us, at times they brought down cards and played games. But they never talked to us. I suspected it was under Captain's orders. It was meant to drive us insane. It was meant to break us.
Time. Time is the only thing a prisoner has before she hits the wall. We're constantly ruled by the hour, by the minute, by the second. It's not something usually noticed those who walk and live by times rule but for those of us that have been locked away from the world. We have hours to stare at the ceiling and let these things go through our mind.
This wasn't the first time I'd been locked away. Once upon a time in Mexico I had spent three bruised months behind bars, but at least I knew what time it was.
I tracked it, the seconds, by the swell and fall of the waves but there were times when it was hard to keep track and eventually I lost count all together. The girls passed time with stories from their lives. Pogo and her father.
"He was an Army Ranger..." She'd say, explaining her eye for the weapons. Then there was Dani. Dani and her love for shiny things. Describing her life as a misplaced aristocrat, her love for a man who showed her the advantages of becoming a jewel thief. It was when Roxy was completing her tales of Southern California and her own fluidic spoils; she had traded her surfing expertise for sailing lessons with the rich kids in Orange County. She had married a man by the name of Justin. It was as she was describing her wedding in every painstaking detail that I heard it. It was faint at first, barely audible over the constant commotion but it echoed through the walls, reverberated in my mind. That was it, my salvation in the dank, dirty prison. It was a way of keeping time, I knew it, within me, somehow, I knew it.
It was 52 bells later, I was in the middle of my 9th meal of sturdy sea biscuits and vile, green water when I heard a commotion above me. A hard pounding down the steps, the breath of a man. 52 bells ago, I wouldn't have heard it but somehow, limiting myself to the small cell sharpened my senses. Or maybe it was just that I was starting to listen. I looked to the sailors and they looked up at the stairs. A young boy's figure stood in the doorway and whispered something into one of the sailor's ear. My own ears perked up but I barely caught the ending.
"...with her..." The sailor nodded and sent the boy back to where he came from. In two steps the solder closed the space between where he sat and where my cell was. He pulled a key from his pocket and began to unlock the door. I swallowed down the last of my green water and stood up to meet him.
"What's happening?" I asked him. He looked up with the most sadistic expression I had ever seen in my corrupted little life.
"Cap'n wants'ta see ya." He muttered, the smile widening on his face. He held the door open for me in the complete trust that he had broken me. I watched him for a moment before stepping out and pushing the door into him. He stumbled, the shocked expression hidden for a moment before anger possessed him. In three moves, I was pushed from the door and he was in front of me. With one swift punch I was on the ground, looking up at the red-faced sailor. "If it weren't for it bein' orders that'ya come untouched, I'd kill ya, I would." I should have known that there was something off at that moment. I should have cared. I should have tried to escape but, none of it mattered to me. All that mattered was that I might get a glimpse of the sky and that the sailor wasn't smiling anymore.
I should have cared.
Anyway, here's the next little bit. It's told from Sparrow's perspective if I made it unclear at all.
Hurry, hurry! Read through it! JACK Sparrow is in the next chapter!! *coughIjusthavetowriteitcough*
I know, seriously, at friggen last.
Interlude
It's a little funny, what goes through your mind in times like these. First, you plot escape, and you hope all goes according to plan. But of course, nothing does. I had tried to escape five times and though three of those times I had succeeded in getting out of that stupid little cage, I had lost my weapons, my clothing and eventually, my endurance. The 'fine' Captain Fitch was smarter than he looked. Pogo noticed this first.
"My father used to do it before he interrogated a prisoner of war." She told me very matter-of-factly, as if I had never heard the story before. There were times when Fitch would feed us once a day, sometimes four times. There was no real schedule and no windows in the 'brigs' so we had no real sense of time, of the hour. The shifts were changed randomly, but always, a pair of sailors sat on steps and watched us, at times they brought down cards and played games. But they never talked to us. I suspected it was under Captain's orders. It was meant to drive us insane. It was meant to break us.
Time. Time is the only thing a prisoner has before she hits the wall. We're constantly ruled by the hour, by the minute, by the second. It's not something usually noticed those who walk and live by times rule but for those of us that have been locked away from the world. We have hours to stare at the ceiling and let these things go through our mind.
This wasn't the first time I'd been locked away. Once upon a time in Mexico I had spent three bruised months behind bars, but at least I knew what time it was.
I tracked it, the seconds, by the swell and fall of the waves but there were times when it was hard to keep track and eventually I lost count all together. The girls passed time with stories from their lives. Pogo and her father.
"He was an Army Ranger..." She'd say, explaining her eye for the weapons. Then there was Dani. Dani and her love for shiny things. Describing her life as a misplaced aristocrat, her love for a man who showed her the advantages of becoming a jewel thief. It was when Roxy was completing her tales of Southern California and her own fluidic spoils; she had traded her surfing expertise for sailing lessons with the rich kids in Orange County. She had married a man by the name of Justin. It was as she was describing her wedding in every painstaking detail that I heard it. It was faint at first, barely audible over the constant commotion but it echoed through the walls, reverberated in my mind. That was it, my salvation in the dank, dirty prison. It was a way of keeping time, I knew it, within me, somehow, I knew it.
It was 52 bells later, I was in the middle of my 9th meal of sturdy sea biscuits and vile, green water when I heard a commotion above me. A hard pounding down the steps, the breath of a man. 52 bells ago, I wouldn't have heard it but somehow, limiting myself to the small cell sharpened my senses. Or maybe it was just that I was starting to listen. I looked to the sailors and they looked up at the stairs. A young boy's figure stood in the doorway and whispered something into one of the sailor's ear. My own ears perked up but I barely caught the ending.
"...with her..." The sailor nodded and sent the boy back to where he came from. In two steps the solder closed the space between where he sat and where my cell was. He pulled a key from his pocket and began to unlock the door. I swallowed down the last of my green water and stood up to meet him.
"What's happening?" I asked him. He looked up with the most sadistic expression I had ever seen in my corrupted little life.
"Cap'n wants'ta see ya." He muttered, the smile widening on his face. He held the door open for me in the complete trust that he had broken me. I watched him for a moment before stepping out and pushing the door into him. He stumbled, the shocked expression hidden for a moment before anger possessed him. In three moves, I was pushed from the door and he was in front of me. With one swift punch I was on the ground, looking up at the red-faced sailor. "If it weren't for it bein' orders that'ya come untouched, I'd kill ya, I would." I should have known that there was something off at that moment. I should have cared. I should have tried to escape but, none of it mattered to me. All that mattered was that I might get a glimpse of the sky and that the sailor wasn't smiling anymore.
I should have cared.