Disclaimer:
Some SAT review for you kids-
Mimi : PoTC script, characters, etc :: Michael Jackson : Mental health
Note: Thanks for the reviews! I'm sorry I left you hanging with Jack (no pun intended, lol) but I watched the movie 4 times the other day in French, Spanish, English, and with commentary from the Commodore so I was a bit sick of it. *Gasp* Yes, it is possible... so here we are...Go Patriots!
Here's To Freedom (Chapter 23)
With a dull thud, Jack landed face down on a rickety, old arbor, his leathery skin suffering from the abrasive texture of the splintering wood while his wildly pounding heart came to its senses and realized that he wasn't dead. In complete and utter agony, he almost let out a groan, but stifled it as the circumstances of his situation came flooding back to mind.
He laid there in complete silence, almost afraid to breathe as he made sure that there was no one approaching who could have possibly seen or heard the incident, thus giving away his presence. His kohl rimmed eyes scanned the darkness quietly, but he was relieved to discover that no one had noticed him.
Slowly, he dragged his legs over the side of the ivy-covered trellis and pulled himself into a seated position. Looking down at the ground that was still a good six feet from where his boots were dangling, Jack sighed and shook his head. "Well," he whispered to himself, "At least I didn't hit the floor last time."
He then inched closer and closer to the edge of the wooden frame, his insides jittering as he felt the entire structure lean under the weight of his body. Squeezing his eyes tight, he didn't want to wait for the rotted piece to come crashing to the ground, so he just dropped off.
After a few moments, Jack's eyes flew open, just in time to see him land on his bottom with a bone-jarring plop. "Sweet Jesus," he muttered painfully, stumbling to his feet, rubbing his rear end as he moved through the brush and towards the palace.
* * * *
"Weatherby!" Geoffrey called, his arms opened and a huge smile illuminating his features as he approached the finely outfitted man nursing a brandy. Patting him on the back, he motioned to the wide array of sights and smells in the room and said boisterously, "This is a magnificent affair, my good man! It may very well be the talk of the Season."
Taking a sip from the snifter he held in his trembling hand, he simply nodded and smiled. He had no doubt that the party was everything that Geoffrey Eaton had mentioned, and more, but his mind had been elsewhere for most of the evening.
He was giving away his little girl, and the fact that he wasn't even on speaking terms with said little girl only made the night harder.
He loved her, of that he was certain, but the way she had been acting as of late was simply horrendous! Why, that evening aboard the Dauntless, when she had insulted the Eaton family, he couldn't remember a time when he had been more embarrassed, or more ashamed of her, in all of his days.
Marriage was a fact of life. Natalie would understand. One day.
"What are your thoughts, Governor? Governor!?"
Geoffrey Eaton's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and in response he just smiled and nodded, murmuring a quick "Of course, Geoffrey" before turning and leaving. He needed another drink.
A slow grin slinked across Geoffrey's face as he watched the man down the remaining contents of his glass before quickly snatching another off of a passing tray. With the confirmation of the mildly intoxicated Governor, he then went off to find the happy couple so he could salvage what was left of their profitable union.
* * * *
"Confound it all!" Jack said in a hushed whisper, staring up at the palace's wall, once again, covered in foliage and whose top was an incredibly large distance from the ground. He couldn't just waltz through the door and sit down. The wide-open windows at the very top of the wall were his only chance.
Looking both ways for any stray party-goers who could potentially thwart his plan, he ran from behind a cluster of nicely manicured shrubs to the base of the building. His eyes roving from the bottom on up, he shook his head in disbelief and muttered:
"I really need to start working out."
* * * *
This is so short. It's not even two pages on Word, but it's set up for the climax, where all hell will break loose. I think I'm going to save that part for after my trip so I can get it out all at once. I'd hate to leave you hanging for two weeks at some really tense part, so that's that. Enjoy!
Mimi : PoTC script, characters, etc :: Michael Jackson : Mental health
Note: Thanks for the reviews! I'm sorry I left you hanging with Jack (no pun intended, lol) but I watched the movie 4 times the other day in French, Spanish, English, and with commentary from the Commodore so I was a bit sick of it. *Gasp* Yes, it is possible... so here we are...Go Patriots!
Here's To Freedom (Chapter 23)
With a dull thud, Jack landed face down on a rickety, old arbor, his leathery skin suffering from the abrasive texture of the splintering wood while his wildly pounding heart came to its senses and realized that he wasn't dead. In complete and utter agony, he almost let out a groan, but stifled it as the circumstances of his situation came flooding back to mind.
He laid there in complete silence, almost afraid to breathe as he made sure that there was no one approaching who could have possibly seen or heard the incident, thus giving away his presence. His kohl rimmed eyes scanned the darkness quietly, but he was relieved to discover that no one had noticed him.
Slowly, he dragged his legs over the side of the ivy-covered trellis and pulled himself into a seated position. Looking down at the ground that was still a good six feet from where his boots were dangling, Jack sighed and shook his head. "Well," he whispered to himself, "At least I didn't hit the floor last time."
He then inched closer and closer to the edge of the wooden frame, his insides jittering as he felt the entire structure lean under the weight of his body. Squeezing his eyes tight, he didn't want to wait for the rotted piece to come crashing to the ground, so he just dropped off.
After a few moments, Jack's eyes flew open, just in time to see him land on his bottom with a bone-jarring plop. "Sweet Jesus," he muttered painfully, stumbling to his feet, rubbing his rear end as he moved through the brush and towards the palace.
* * * *
"Weatherby!" Geoffrey called, his arms opened and a huge smile illuminating his features as he approached the finely outfitted man nursing a brandy. Patting him on the back, he motioned to the wide array of sights and smells in the room and said boisterously, "This is a magnificent affair, my good man! It may very well be the talk of the Season."
Taking a sip from the snifter he held in his trembling hand, he simply nodded and smiled. He had no doubt that the party was everything that Geoffrey Eaton had mentioned, and more, but his mind had been elsewhere for most of the evening.
He was giving away his little girl, and the fact that he wasn't even on speaking terms with said little girl only made the night harder.
He loved her, of that he was certain, but the way she had been acting as of late was simply horrendous! Why, that evening aboard the Dauntless, when she had insulted the Eaton family, he couldn't remember a time when he had been more embarrassed, or more ashamed of her, in all of his days.
Marriage was a fact of life. Natalie would understand. One day.
"What are your thoughts, Governor? Governor!?"
Geoffrey Eaton's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and in response he just smiled and nodded, murmuring a quick "Of course, Geoffrey" before turning and leaving. He needed another drink.
A slow grin slinked across Geoffrey's face as he watched the man down the remaining contents of his glass before quickly snatching another off of a passing tray. With the confirmation of the mildly intoxicated Governor, he then went off to find the happy couple so he could salvage what was left of their profitable union.
* * * *
"Confound it all!" Jack said in a hushed whisper, staring up at the palace's wall, once again, covered in foliage and whose top was an incredibly large distance from the ground. He couldn't just waltz through the door and sit down. The wide-open windows at the very top of the wall were his only chance.
Looking both ways for any stray party-goers who could potentially thwart his plan, he ran from behind a cluster of nicely manicured shrubs to the base of the building. His eyes roving from the bottom on up, he shook his head in disbelief and muttered:
"I really need to start working out."
* * * *
This is so short. It's not even two pages on Word, but it's set up for the climax, where all hell will break loose. I think I'm going to save that part for after my trip so I can get it out all at once. I'd hate to leave you hanging for two weeks at some really tense part, so that's that. Enjoy!