The mounds of earth pound under my feet and my candle burns bright as I walk among the dirt hill, to the residence of the dead. The trees seemed to have a coat of varnish upon them, concealing the last few years I hadn't been about the area. It was almost as though I had entered a museum, the dreadful haunts and reminders of the past. Whilst above sea level, I had intended to keep in from the raging winds of nature. The stillness had kept me safe, though stolen two lives from me.
The path winds around the cherished tree etched into my heart, the inscription still burning through the faded love. Elizabeth and Will. The dedication lay untouched over the years, and as I ran my finger fluently over the delicate words, reminders of our love swept over my body. I had to go on.
"Jack," she called to me, "why is it that you always have to go and prove yourself to another and put your life at a threat?"
"Oh Lizzy," I replied with a soft smile forming fluently over my lips. I drew my hands to her face and caressed her gently; a fatherly notion. "Sometimes," I whispered into the soft channel of her ear, "the only way to find the true value of life is to put it at risk."
The more things remain the same, the more they change, I suppose. Elizabeth's mind slowly had been taken from her, piece by piece, but her love had always remained. Her flame had been brightened at such a young age, though it flickered too quickly, and soon faded away at a solemn age. It was purely impossible for her to tread into the world without her shadow getting in the way.
I step over the few roots of trees blocking the trail and the small hill allows only enough room to find the grave representing her soul's tranquil existence in my heart. I kneel beside her tomb, and graciously place the flowers expressly developed for her. From my pocket I release the gift I had so often treasured, my everyday remembrance of her spirit. Her rosary beads, black pearls, come wordlessly from my sash, the beads that had frequently pursued me in the night.

Elizabeth Turner
1654-1687
Beloved wife and mother
You own a space in our hearts

The cross lies over her tomb, and hopefully it will raise memories in her heart as well. I advanced toward the lingering grave to be discovered. His flame had endured through the wind once her presence was removed from his life- a loss of heart was his suffrage.
"Jack, please." He shivered in the warmth and his tears fought their way to my shoulder. And I held him. My best friend. "If I could, I swear," his voice was that of anguish and sorrow, passion for his wife, "I'd surrender everything I own to feel the chance to live again. Bring her back to me, Jack." And I let the tears fall, from two pairs of eyes, as his broken heart melted into a pool that could not be recreated.
A sword, my favored sword, was dug into a deep impression in the soil directly beside Elizabeth's grave; the tang's lettering gleaming, emphasizing the sun's rays. More than friends-brothers. It read like the center of my heart- deep, and filled with honesty and passion.

William Turner
1654-1692
A soul-filled husband and father who portrays an undying love

My vision was purely clouded, but my feet carried me to the destination of preference. James Norrington sat inaudibly amongst the crackling fire, his eye on careful watch of the captives. My boot's steps echoed indifferently through the stone floorboards and walls, and his attention was immediately established.
"Captain Sparrow. I hadn't expected to find you around this part of town."
"Ah, well very much out of character, Governor, your predictions were far from close, eh?" He chuckled at my remark and advanced toward me at a steady pace.
"Good to see you, Jack." His arms enveloped over my shoulders and I returned his favor with none other than a loving devotion. "So what brings you around, anyway?"
"Just a simple errand, mate." A heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders as the tattered, worn, three corned, black hat came from my head, a few gray wisps of hair falling from my faded bandanna. "Fer ye, James."
"Jack...I...I couldn't take this from you. This is your...life, Jack," he choked on his words. "You don't do this, Captain."
"I just did. Keep it. It represents me Pearl. And me appreciation for yer sensitivity and compassion. And keep her, as well. You deserve her. An old seadog such as yerself."
He took the hat into his arms and caressed it tightly. "Thanks, Jack."
"I wouldn't want it to be any other way, Governor." His face brightened as he smiled at me.
"But what of you, Captain." I chortled at his response, and looked him in the eye.
"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? I do believe I've had enough encounters with the East India Company, enough bonny lasses, and enough swashbuckling adventures for one lifetime, eh? I just hope no one forgets me."
"Don't worry. You're the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. I won't let that happen."
I nodded quietly and saluted him, the last man who mattered in my life. And so I left Port Royal with enough memories and enough flame in my candle to survive at least a while longer. Just a bit.