Author's note: This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please let me know
how I'm doing. ( By the way, the boredom in this first scene is based on
fact: I really was once so bored that I started singing and sparrow-
walking, but I wasn't on a deserted island. I was in the middle of a
crowded airport.
Yeah.
I endured many odd stares and security checks.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters,
so please don't sue me.
****************************************************************************
****************
There were plenty of dried palm fronds that would burn very well, so we
gathered these up along with some driftwood that lay scattered about. In the
center of the island we found a pile of empty wooden crates; apparently,
whoever had been on the island before us had not been very cleanly. Nor, I
suspected, had they been very sober: every crate had 'Santiago's Rum' stamped
on the side, and there were empty glass bottles everywhere. Jack picked one up
and gazed at it mournfully.
"Not a bloody drop left. Inconsiderate blighters." I snorted, and began
breaking up the crates. After several trips to the beach we had transported all the
crate fragments, and almost had enough firewood for the bonfire. We made one
last circuit of the island, picking up driftwood as we went. On the far side of the
island, I spotted another crate washed up on the sand. I pointed it out to Jack,
who eagerly sprang towards it, obviously hoping for intact rum bottles. The lid
was very tight, and it took multiple tries to open. Jack finally had to resort to
using a long, narrow piece of driftwood to pry it off. There was a large plastic
bag inside, which Jack promptly shredded. Then he sat back, disappointed and
sulky.
"No rum!" he pouted, "All that work for nothing."
"Wait," I said, reaching deep inside the bag, " I think there's something in
here." Jack leaned forward again as I pulled out another, smaller plastic packet. I
ripped it open, and yards of colorful fabric came spilling out.
"Silk!" crowed Jack. He picked up a long length of red fabric from where
it had fallen and examined it intently. "Best I've ever seen. Wonder what it's
doing here," he mused. He looked back up at me suddenly, then stood up and
walked behind me. I made to turn to face him, but he stopped me.
"Hold still," he said quietly. I complied, wondering what he was up to
now. All of a sudden I felt fabric against my brow as Jack tied the silk scarf
around my head. He came around in front of me again, his chin in his hand as he
gazed at me, considering. He reached out a hand and deftly tugged loose a few
strands of my hair, turning my head this way and that to admire the effect. Then
he gave a satisfied nod and turned back to the silk, scarves flying in all directions
as he sorted through them in a frenzy. Eventually he stood up with a metallic
gold-colored scarf draped in his arms. He knelt in the sand in front of me, his
nose level with my navel, and he tied the scarf loosely around my hips. Every
now and then his long fingers would brush my bare skin, and when he was done
he gave my bellybutton ring a playful flick.
"There," he said proudly, his eyes traveling up and down, "you look like a
piratess now. Minus a few clothes." I grinned at him.
"Well, that's your favorite kind of piratess anyway, isn't it?" Jack put his
hands together and looked skyward.
"Amen," he said fervently.
gathered these up along with some driftwood that lay scattered about. In the
center of the island we found a pile of empty wooden crates; apparently,
whoever had been on the island before us had not been very cleanly. Nor, I
suspected, had they been very sober: every crate had 'Santiago's Rum' stamped
on the side, and there were empty glass bottles everywhere. Jack picked one up
and gazed at it mournfully.
"Not a bloody drop left. Inconsiderate blighters." I snorted, and began
breaking up the crates. After several trips to the beach we had transported all the
crate fragments, and almost had enough firewood for the bonfire. We made one
last circuit of the island, picking up driftwood as we went. On the far side of the
island, I spotted another crate washed up on the sand. I pointed it out to Jack,
who eagerly sprang towards it, obviously hoping for intact rum bottles. The lid
was very tight, and it took multiple tries to open. Jack finally had to resort to
using a long, narrow piece of driftwood to pry it off. There was a large plastic
bag inside, which Jack promptly shredded. Then he sat back, disappointed and
sulky.
"No rum!" he pouted, "All that work for nothing."
"Wait," I said, reaching deep inside the bag, " I think there's something in
here." Jack leaned forward again as I pulled out another, smaller plastic packet. I
ripped it open, and yards of colorful fabric came spilling out.
"Silk!" crowed Jack. He picked up a long length of red fabric from where
it had fallen and examined it intently. "Best I've ever seen. Wonder what it's
doing here," he mused. He looked back up at me suddenly, then stood up and
walked behind me. I made to turn to face him, but he stopped me.
"Hold still," he said quietly. I complied, wondering what he was up to
now. All of a sudden I felt fabric against my brow as Jack tied the silk scarf
around my head. He came around in front of me again, his chin in his hand as he
gazed at me, considering. He reached out a hand and deftly tugged loose a few
strands of my hair, turning my head this way and that to admire the effect. Then
he gave a satisfied nod and turned back to the silk, scarves flying in all directions
as he sorted through them in a frenzy. Eventually he stood up with a metallic
gold-colored scarf draped in his arms. He knelt in the sand in front of me, his
nose level with my navel, and he tied the scarf loosely around my hips. Every
now and then his long fingers would brush my bare skin, and when he was done
he gave my bellybutton ring a playful flick.
"There," he said proudly, his eyes traveling up and down, "you look like a
piratess now. Minus a few clothes." I grinned at him.
"Well, that's your favorite kind of piratess anyway, isn't it?" Jack put his
hands together and looked skyward.
"Amen," he said fervently.