*** Disclaimer: I don't own PotC. In fact, all I own are three ticket stubs from the show and the memories ;-)! This is an idea that came to me, that isn't fully developed yet so it may involve a lot of surprises along the way. I'm already working on chapter one, by the way.
Ps. Sorry about the ship, you'll see. I couldn't resist. *smacks self* No silliness!***
Prologue: The First Day
His eyes were darker than the darkness he saw as his limbs grew slack from exhaustion. The waves around and beneath him surged, and exhaled his wet body onto the shore, and pulled it back again. His fingers having touched the sand, he gasped for breath and threw his face up and out of the darkness, into the twilight. One last pulse and, this time, he rolled himself into the soft sand, and this time the water didn't reach for him. He sunk into the beach, the translucent veil of his white shirt was littered with grains of the shore sand. He knew he breathed, that he lived, but little more. The dark eyes saw the hazy brilliance of the moon above, and he closed his weary eyes and slept awhile.
The sun had replaced the moon in the high place of the sky when Jack Sparrow woke up. He first felt the warmth of that sun, and smiled. It felt curiously glorious to have the sun beat down upon his nose, his cheeks, to bake him into the sand of the beach. He retrieved his hand which had wandered off and into the sand nearby. When he had left it to lay on the beach the sand had been wet, and spongy to the touch; now it enveloped him like a shell. Pressing the grit between his fingers he suddenly remembered why the sun felt so wonderful.
He frowned, and slowly opened his dark eyes as he tore himself from the beach. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared at the blank surface of the sea. He aimlessly smeared the sand with his hands, as he cast his gaze up and down the shore. There was nothing but sea and sand. Behind him were trees, and what looked like a trail or perhaps even a road, although it would have to be a private one. The heart in his chest suddenly thumped against his ribs, sending his breath into spasms and puffs. He breathed deep and tried to remember what had happened to him.
"Father?" he whispered to himself. "John?" He looked down at his empty hand, covered like a crab in sand. "All gone?" He shuddered, and took one more look at the mockingly placid sea, the sea which had nearly consumed him. His eyes grew sore, as he stood and walked to the brim of the sea where he could see it stretch like a girdle from east to west, unbroken. The wind rushing off of the sea echoed his aloneness, and he began to cry. He was utterly alone, utterly defenceless, completely powerless against the blue expanse and its changeability.
His father's ship, The Merry Susanna, had been caught in the storm and blown into the reef offshore when the night was so beautiful that, now that the ship and its crew were gone, it hurt Jack like nothing until then had. He was a lad in love with the sea, in all of its moods. That night he had stood by the rails with his brother and dreamed about women that would have eyes like the sea. His brother, who was always the most sensible of the two young sons of James Sparrow, tried to tell Jack that he was a sentimental fool but that he loved him all the same, "Ye crazy gob!" Now Jack was all that was left of their small family, that had lived by the sea.
Jack smiled at his memories, as the silent tears slid down his face. His mind, which was sharper than even he truly knew, reached deep into the memory of his brother and their talk that night. It was the last they would ever have, and it could not be lost like the ship and the lives behind the memory. More memories came to Jack of his family that were now lost to him. They were a part of what he would make of himself, now that he could no longer see them, or hear their voices and kind words.
He slowly wiped the tears from his face and looked down at his bare, and battered feet. He raised his eyebrows. "Well, feet," he said. "Looks like it's you and me now." He took another look out at the sea, and said his good-byes in his heart. He turned his feet towards the trail leading into the trees and set his course for whatever may lie ahead.
****
Ps. Sorry about the ship, you'll see. I couldn't resist. *smacks self* No silliness!***
Prologue: The First Day
His eyes were darker than the darkness he saw as his limbs grew slack from exhaustion. The waves around and beneath him surged, and exhaled his wet body onto the shore, and pulled it back again. His fingers having touched the sand, he gasped for breath and threw his face up and out of the darkness, into the twilight. One last pulse and, this time, he rolled himself into the soft sand, and this time the water didn't reach for him. He sunk into the beach, the translucent veil of his white shirt was littered with grains of the shore sand. He knew he breathed, that he lived, but little more. The dark eyes saw the hazy brilliance of the moon above, and he closed his weary eyes and slept awhile.
The sun had replaced the moon in the high place of the sky when Jack Sparrow woke up. He first felt the warmth of that sun, and smiled. It felt curiously glorious to have the sun beat down upon his nose, his cheeks, to bake him into the sand of the beach. He retrieved his hand which had wandered off and into the sand nearby. When he had left it to lay on the beach the sand had been wet, and spongy to the touch; now it enveloped him like a shell. Pressing the grit between his fingers he suddenly remembered why the sun felt so wonderful.
He frowned, and slowly opened his dark eyes as he tore himself from the beach. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared at the blank surface of the sea. He aimlessly smeared the sand with his hands, as he cast his gaze up and down the shore. There was nothing but sea and sand. Behind him were trees, and what looked like a trail or perhaps even a road, although it would have to be a private one. The heart in his chest suddenly thumped against his ribs, sending his breath into spasms and puffs. He breathed deep and tried to remember what had happened to him.
"Father?" he whispered to himself. "John?" He looked down at his empty hand, covered like a crab in sand. "All gone?" He shuddered, and took one more look at the mockingly placid sea, the sea which had nearly consumed him. His eyes grew sore, as he stood and walked to the brim of the sea where he could see it stretch like a girdle from east to west, unbroken. The wind rushing off of the sea echoed his aloneness, and he began to cry. He was utterly alone, utterly defenceless, completely powerless against the blue expanse and its changeability.
His father's ship, The Merry Susanna, had been caught in the storm and blown into the reef offshore when the night was so beautiful that, now that the ship and its crew were gone, it hurt Jack like nothing until then had. He was a lad in love with the sea, in all of its moods. That night he had stood by the rails with his brother and dreamed about women that would have eyes like the sea. His brother, who was always the most sensible of the two young sons of James Sparrow, tried to tell Jack that he was a sentimental fool but that he loved him all the same, "Ye crazy gob!" Now Jack was all that was left of their small family, that had lived by the sea.
Jack smiled at his memories, as the silent tears slid down his face. His mind, which was sharper than even he truly knew, reached deep into the memory of his brother and their talk that night. It was the last they would ever have, and it could not be lost like the ship and the lives behind the memory. More memories came to Jack of his family that were now lost to him. They were a part of what he would make of himself, now that he could no longer see them, or hear their voices and kind words.
He slowly wiped the tears from his face and looked down at his bare, and battered feet. He raised his eyebrows. "Well, feet," he said. "Looks like it's you and me now." He took another look out at the sea, and said his good-byes in his heart. He turned his feet towards the trail leading into the trees and set his course for whatever may lie ahead.
****