Author's Note: This little . . . vignette is the result of a short burst of inspiration that came to me just yesterday, after a long, depressing period of writer's block. However, I'm proud to say that this tiny piece of writing is a bit more than just a small vignette. I believe it may be the start of another new and exciting adventure for Captain Jack Sparrow. Sadly, though, he is not featured in this work. Come to think of it, neither are any of the other characters from PotC. This is because this vignette is serving as more of an introduction to a bigger story I'm in the process of conjuring up. A lot of what's in here just came to me in a sort of "vision", and I just wrote what I saw. So later, when I've posted the actual story, a lot of things in here might not make sense because as of now, I have no idea where I'm going with this. Anyways, read it and tell me what you think. C'mon! It's a short easy read that won't take a lot of effort to review, so laziness is not an excuse! Savvy?
It was a dark and ruthless summer night. The unbearable heat and humidity of the slow, hazy day had finally subsided, and gave way to torrents of rain and blinding gusts of wind that threw the little port of New Brayeth into its own dark little world. Every little place of public residence was deserted, from the scattered shops and taverns, to the port's narrow, cobble stoned streets. The usually noisy, bustling harbor was silent; the only ships docked were diminutive sloops, rearing wildly on the foamy waves and restless winds. Everyone had fled to the safety of their homes to escape the raging Caribbean storm in all its rumbling thunder and crashing lightning glory. There wasn't a candle flicker in sight, no hushed voices from within a single building.
Quite suddenly and out of nowhere, a bedraggled figure appeared on the port's main street, leading to the docks. It was a young girl, stumbling blindly through the thick sheets of cold rain. Her quick footsteps would have echoed in the empty street, if it wasn't for the strong gales that drowned out just about every other noise that night. Sopping wet and running in the midst of a nasty storm, she was quite a peculiar sight to behold. Her messy, honey hued hair having pitifully come undone, flew wildly about her head. Some thin, curly strands were matted to her pale face in the rain. He brilliant, grey eyes flashed, terrified, through the blundering night. Her lips were parted, letting loose a silent sound. The girls' tattered blue dress billowed violently behind her, creating a sort of wake in the winds. In her right hand, she clutched a mysterious black sack to her waist, while her left hand struggled to keep hold of her soaking wet skirts.
On into the raging storm she ran; her mind ablaze with vivid images of pirates and thieves, good eggs and bad. Dazzling gold and sparkling rum. Seafaring adventures and clashing swords. Seedy taverns and beautiful wenches. Honorable gentlemen and swarthy rogues. Two good men and a lovely lady . . . and a black ship for them to sail.
Good, bad, okayish? Review!