Author's Interruption - Every day brings us closer to Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Know that.
Eleven
In the beginning, there was only darkness.
Then the door of the Green Dragon was thrown open and light poured onto the street, followed closely by a swaggering Will Turner and a chuckling Dana Flint. Will staggered out to the middle of the street, then threw his head back to howl at the night sky.
"That was so much fun!"
Dana clapped him on the back. "You did well, Turner. I'm impressed."
"Well you should be!" Will said and drew himself up to his full height. "I drank a lot."
"You certainly did, my smithy-friend."
"Only ... now I don't feel so well ..." Will hiccupped softly, then groaned and leaned on Dana and put his head on her shoulder. As they made their way carefully down the street, he put his mouth to her ear. "I think I drank too much."
"There's not such a thing as that, Will. All you can say is that you didn't eat enough bread. Rum and beer are always all right. You should get more used to them, love. What sort of pirate doesn't drink to celebrate his victories?"
Will leaned more heavily on her, and Dana turned a corner to the direction of the dock and Will's home. "Did I tell you that I'm a pirate?"
"No, but you sailed with one, didn't you?"
"I did! I did. I ... I miss those times."
Dana laughed. "You miss Jack Sparrow."
Will squinted at nothing but the surrounding darkness in particular. "Did I ever tell you what Jack's name was?" Dana stopped walking, and Will did, consequently. He looked at her as best as he could. "Did I?"
Dana hesitated, then opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment so did Will, who was suddenly and violently sick by the side of the road.
~
When he opened his eyes, Will felt a violent lurching of the objects in the room and quickly shut them again. He made a strained sound, and heard Dana move somewhere to his side.
"Sorry about that, Will. Here. I'll put the candles out. If you can't see anything, you can't get dizzy now can you?"
He opened his eyes again and saw nothing but darkness. His head hurt. "You didn't tell me that you feel sick after you drink." He listened to Dana settling herself on a chair beside his bed. She sounded apologetic.
"Well, ah, to be perfectly honest, that doesn't always happen."
"It doesn't happen to you?"
"I've been drinking for a long time. You sort of, get used to it, I guess."
Will rubbed his eyes. "I don't think I'll be doing that again for a while." Dana laughed quietly.
"Oh come on, Turner. S'not so bad! Think of how much fun you were having at the Green Dragon." Will smiled in the dark. He had been having a good time. But just the same, such a headache and queasy stomach seemed to him a large price to pay for an evening of merriment. "I'll think about it."
Both the blacksmith and the gun-maker were quiet for a long time. The dark evening was warm and Dana had left the windows of Will's home open. He could hear the water outside, and it was a soothing sound. There was much comfort to be found in the ocean.
Dana yawned and stretched. "Did you want me to let you go to sleep? You'll feel fine in the morning."
"To tell you the truth," Will said, "now that my stomach's empty and my head is clear, I don't feel all that bad. What time do you suppose it is?"
Dana made as if to answer, then stopped and stood suddenly. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, Will could see that she had her head turned towards the door. "Actually, Will, I think I know exactly what time it is." She pushed her chair back softly and crept towards the door. As Will sat up, she opened it slowly.
Faint light from the street spilled into his doorway, and he craned his head to see a small shape on the ground outside his door. It muttered quietly and fluffed up its feathers. There was a small burden on one of its legs.
"I think," Dana said, "that it is time for this story to actually begin."
Eleven
In the beginning, there was only darkness.
Then the door of the Green Dragon was thrown open and light poured onto the street, followed closely by a swaggering Will Turner and a chuckling Dana Flint. Will staggered out to the middle of the street, then threw his head back to howl at the night sky.
"That was so much fun!"
Dana clapped him on the back. "You did well, Turner. I'm impressed."
"Well you should be!" Will said and drew himself up to his full height. "I drank a lot."
"You certainly did, my smithy-friend."
"Only ... now I don't feel so well ..." Will hiccupped softly, then groaned and leaned on Dana and put his head on her shoulder. As they made their way carefully down the street, he put his mouth to her ear. "I think I drank too much."
"There's not such a thing as that, Will. All you can say is that you didn't eat enough bread. Rum and beer are always all right. You should get more used to them, love. What sort of pirate doesn't drink to celebrate his victories?"
Will leaned more heavily on her, and Dana turned a corner to the direction of the dock and Will's home. "Did I tell you that I'm a pirate?"
"No, but you sailed with one, didn't you?"
"I did! I did. I ... I miss those times."
Dana laughed. "You miss Jack Sparrow."
Will squinted at nothing but the surrounding darkness in particular. "Did I ever tell you what Jack's name was?" Dana stopped walking, and Will did, consequently. He looked at her as best as he could. "Did I?"
Dana hesitated, then opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment so did Will, who was suddenly and violently sick by the side of the road.
~
When he opened his eyes, Will felt a violent lurching of the objects in the room and quickly shut them again. He made a strained sound, and heard Dana move somewhere to his side.
"Sorry about that, Will. Here. I'll put the candles out. If you can't see anything, you can't get dizzy now can you?"
He opened his eyes again and saw nothing but darkness. His head hurt. "You didn't tell me that you feel sick after you drink." He listened to Dana settling herself on a chair beside his bed. She sounded apologetic.
"Well, ah, to be perfectly honest, that doesn't always happen."
"It doesn't happen to you?"
"I've been drinking for a long time. You sort of, get used to it, I guess."
Will rubbed his eyes. "I don't think I'll be doing that again for a while." Dana laughed quietly.
"Oh come on, Turner. S'not so bad! Think of how much fun you were having at the Green Dragon." Will smiled in the dark. He had been having a good time. But just the same, such a headache and queasy stomach seemed to him a large price to pay for an evening of merriment. "I'll think about it."
Both the blacksmith and the gun-maker were quiet for a long time. The dark evening was warm and Dana had left the windows of Will's home open. He could hear the water outside, and it was a soothing sound. There was much comfort to be found in the ocean.
Dana yawned and stretched. "Did you want me to let you go to sleep? You'll feel fine in the morning."
"To tell you the truth," Will said, "now that my stomach's empty and my head is clear, I don't feel all that bad. What time do you suppose it is?"
Dana made as if to answer, then stopped and stood suddenly. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, Will could see that she had her head turned towards the door. "Actually, Will, I think I know exactly what time it is." She pushed her chair back softly and crept towards the door. As Will sat up, she opened it slowly.
Faint light from the street spilled into his doorway, and he craned his head to see a small shape on the ground outside his door. It muttered quietly and fluffed up its feathers. There was a small burden on one of its legs.
"I think," Dana said, "that it is time for this story to actually begin."