AN (10/29): By popular demand, I've decided to write a few more chapters in this story. I really don't know how far it will go...I'll keep you posted, eh?
All Hallow's Eve: Chapter 2
The rest of my night passed with airy dreams of pirate captains with dashing smiles and cursed coins. Complete nonsense, in other words. When I awoke to the crisp air, the first thing I was aware of was the man staring at the angel tombstone near me. He seemed to be in distress. Yawning, I slowly sat up and rubbed at my eyes. Surely I was still asleep, because what I saw had to have been Johnny Depp. There was no other explanation. No one could have a costume that looked as authentic and believable as the one in the movie. In fact, this costume seemed to be more authentic than the one in the movie. "What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep the worry, idolatry, and nervousness out of my voice and eyes.
He turned, giving me an odd look. "Is this some type of joke, then?" he asked with a frown, pointing back towards the angel.
"Is what some type of joke? You're supposed to be elsewhere, you know. It isn't every day that someone like yourself winds up in a small town like Whitestown." I frowned slightly as I stood up, wrapping the dark coat over my bare shoulders. I suddenly felt uncomfortable. A super star had seen me fall asleep crying. Why were my eyes so puffy still?
He frowned, moving with grossly exaggerated steps towards the angel and pointing at the date of the man's demise. "Is this a joke? Because I mos' certainly don' find it funny. Why is it so cold? An' who are ye?"
I rolled my eyes and stepped forward, nearly tripping over one of the cans they have next to markers that allows sobbing widows to put flowers down into the ground next to their rotting loved ones. Glancing at the angel's serene face, I realized she was laughing. Of course she'd be laughing. I was a seventeen year old teenager dressed as some sort of scarlet woman talking to Johnny Depp in a graveyard. Couldn't he lose his facade as Jack, anyway? Why was he pretending to be someone else? The date of death was July 16, 1941. First, I told him my name and then I responded with, "This isn't a joke, sir. He really did die in World War Two." His eyes seemed to widen at that, but I continued. "And it would be cold because we're in New York state in October. You know, cold up here isn't that unusual. But you haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?"
He stared at me for a few moments, untranslatable thoughts running across his dark brown eyes. "Well, luv, I'm no' entirely sure. I fell asleep outside o' the Faithful Bride an' woke up in this graveyard." My heart did that new flip flop as he called me love. I'd long wished he'd say something like that to me...but he was way out of my league. Not to mention twice my age. "Did ye 'it yer head or somethin'? Because this isn' the colony of New York. Unless I was much more drunk than I thought. We should still be in Tortuga."
"Can't you step out of character for just a moment, Mister Depp? Clearly you're not fooling me. Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be filming your next movie somewhere?" He was so dense! Why was he pretending to be someone else? While Captain Jack Sparrow was a good man and a good pirate, he had no basis on fact. My head was throbbing from hitting the floor last night at the party, and my mother would kill me when I came home. It was definitely past eleven at night. Probably in the neighborhood of seven in the morning, if I were to guess, based on the amount of sunlight filtering through the wispy clouds up above.
"Wha' are ye talking about? Listen, luv, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Yer clearly mistakin' me for someone else." He sighed exasperatedly. "I 'ave no idea wha' the ruddy 'ell yer talkin' abou'. Ye sure ye din' bruise your mind when ye fell las' night?" The hands were moving again, brushing against the engraved date on the tombstone. He seemed very confused.
"You are not Captain Jack Sparrow!" I shouted, feeling quite miserable suddenly as he looked at me with shock and indignation clearly visible in his eyes. "He doesn't exist except in the movies. This is the year 2004, for crying out loud!" Perhaps this dress was making me so sour. Or the fact that I'd spent the night in a graveyard after crying myself to sleep.
"Wha'?" he asked softly, a wounded look on his face for a moment as he rearranged it to be that of disdain. "Of course I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, luv. An' yer a completely drunk strumpet from one o' the brothels. How could over two 'undred years pass overnight?" He suddenly seemed concerned for my well being. "Why don' ye lie back down?"
Man, he was seriously in character. Why did I have a psychotic Johnny Depp standing near me in a graveyard? Visions of his other movies made me cringe. Perhaps the man had lost it. "Look, Captain, I can't lie back down. My mom is going to kill me if I don't get home ASAP. I was supposed to be home at eleven last night." Frowning, I took the overcoat off my shoulders. "Thanks for your help, but you should've at least made sure I woke up. Sleeping on the ground under a coat won't help the slight cold I'm catching." I coughed a few times to emphasize my point. "Go home. Or, rather, go back to France to Vanessa. I'm sure she misses you."
"Wha'?" he questioned, that adorable look of confusion on his face again. "I 'ave no idea wha' yer talkin' abou', luv. I've only been t' France twice, an' I din' find any Vanessa there." He glared at the coat in my hands. "I'm no' goin' t' take it back, luv. A' leas' let me escort ye back home."
I sighed and slipped the coat over my shoulders. "Fine. You can escort me home and then drop your disguise. It isn't Halloween anymore, and you aren't exactly fooling me into thinking that you're really Jack Sparrow. Filming for Pirates of the Caribbean Two doesn't start until March."
He blinked a few times, but I couldn't decide if it was from confusion or surprise that I knew so much about him. "Righ'. Ye sure ye din' hit yer head on the street or somethin'? Or 'ave more t' drink than usual?"
I rolled my eyes. "You really are a method actor, aren't you? Can't slip out of character for an instant, even though you're working on a completely different movie." This was ridiculous. Why wouldn't he admit who he was already? Then I'd be able to scream and shout and get my face in the newspapers.
"I'm no actor, luv. Jus' a simple scallywag tha' 'appens t' have his own ship." He grinned, revealing the gold caps that had been so perfect in the movie. Wait a moment...there were more in his mouth than there had been in the movie. A lot more. I furrowed my brow slightly, but refrained from making any comments. "Well, then, luv, le's go." He offered his arm by making a small triangle with his elbow and right side. What sort of girl would give up the opportunity to be escorted home by Johnny Depp, even if he was a bit on the crazy side? Smiling in response, I slipped my arm through the small triangle and we started walking.
"Why are you in New York?" I asked again, though with a much more tempered voice as we stepped outside of the graveyard. It was so comforting and chilling to be standing next to the man I'd idolized for over a year now.
"I tole ye already. Fell asleep in front of the Faithful Bride an' woke up inside the graveyard. Suddenly it was cold, an' me head hurt. I probably 'ad too much t' drink an' wandered off wivout realizin' it." His dark brown eyes were scanning the road ahead anxiously. They filled with slight amazement as we stepped off the gravel walkway onto the sidewalk. "Since when 'ave sidewalks been made of concrete?"
I glanced up at him and shrugged. "To my knowledge, they always have." Perhaps it would be best if I went along with his little charade. He needed psychological help.
He let out a grunt. "I've only ever seen them made ou' of wood or stone, an' tha's only in the more developed cities." He stared at the sidewalk for a moment until my insistent tugging made him walk again. I almost felt like I was helping a drunk man walk, for he was pulling me towards the road and pushing me towards the hedge next to the wrought iron fence of the cemetery with each step. "Wha's tha'?" he asked with a voice tinged in amazement as we neared a cross street. His free hand was pointing up at the lights as they changed from red to green.
I chuckled slightly, unsure of if I should answer or not. The master actor really did seem to be a man out of time. "That would be a traffic signal," I replied as I pulled him across the crosswalk. "Tells cars when to go."
"What's a car?" he asked, completely serious, as his gaze turned towards a Buick idling on the other side. "Is it tha' rumblin' monster?"
"That is a type of car," I affirmed. "Owned by the mayor. That's him inside, giving us such an odd look." I waved with my free hand at Mister Pixton, who happened to be whipping out his cell phone. Not good. I didn't want anyone to see Johnny Depp until I'd had my share, suddenly. He'd helped me, after all. "Come on. We've got to hurry."
"All righ'," he responded, matching my increased pace. I could tell there were a million questions inside his head because of the look in his eyes, but he refrained from making any comments until we reached my house. After carefully checking the garage, I determined that she'd left for church. That's right...it was Sunday (and technically Halloween). Great. Now I'd get both a lecture about staying out past curfew and a lecture about missing church.
"This is your house, then?" he asked softly as I pulled him inside through the side door in the garage. He suddenly seemed incredibly confused. "I can't be dreamin'," he muttered to himself as we stepped into my slightly messy family room.
"You aren't dreaming," I replied confidently. "But you look a bit pale. Why don't you sit down? I'll get you some hot chocolate or something." I slowly slipped my arm out from his, pushing back the feeling that I was betraying all woman kind by doing so. "I'll change first, though." This dress was very annoying and I was cold. Not to mention a bit muddy from spending the night in a graveyard.
He nodded vaguely and sat down on the yellow couch turned towards our fairly large HDTV, his eyes scanning the room several times as color left his face. Something was wrong with him, but I didn't have the time to find out what. After I changed, I planned on calling some one to help him. Of course, my plans were liable to change...did I really want to get rid of the sexiest man alive, even if he was acting as though he'd come from the eighteenth century? No. But my fantasies would never come true. He was practically married to Vanessa.
A half hour later, I was clean and dressed in my favorite pair of jeans and a striped pink shirt. I came out of my room to find him wandering around the living room, slowly touching all of the electronic devices and ugly plastic cat statues my mother found so adorable. He was standing in front of our stereo, trying to figure out how to turn it down, based on the way he was standing in front of it with one hand to his ears and the other touching various buttons.
Laughing slightly, and wondering why Johnny Depp would bother being in character with no one else around, I grabbed the remote and turned off the stereo. He pivoted around on his left foot, completely ignoring his trinkets as they slapped him across the face. "How'd ye do tha'?" There was a videotape in his hands, the film completely pulled out and wrapped around his fingers.
"With the remote," I responded, holding the remote up so that he could see what I was talking about. "It sends a little signal to the stereo to turn off if I hit this button." I hit the button again, amused by the look of alarm in his eyes as the music started playing again. Hitting the button once more, it turned itself off.
"Ah," he replied. "Sorry abou' this li'le thing. I couldn' figure out how t' get it out o' tha' box." He pointed towards the VCR, which had a string of broken film running down to the floor from its sad mouth.
"Why did you even try to get it out of the VCR?" I asked exasperatedly, suddenly feeling like Johnny Depp was acting like a child. "The only place you can see what is on the film is in the VCR." I stepped up next to him and took the remains of Free Willy from his hands. Oh well...at least now my dad would have to get it on DVD.
"Oh...so, this is a film, eh?" he asked as he surveyed the mess of black in my hands. "Interestin'." He grinned vaguely. "So, where's this hot chocolate ye promised me? I've had chocolate before. Good stuff." I just noticed how cold he looked.
"I'll go and get it. Why don't you sit down and watch some television?" After noticing his blank look, I motioned towards the couch and turned the television on for him. It was some show about the entertainment business. Perhaps it would get him to stop acting like Captain Sparrow to see some of his fellow stars.
He didn't say anything in reply as he sat down on the couch again, completely mesmerized with the television. After I warmed some water up in the kitchen and made the hot chocolate, I carefully returned to the family room. He was still watching the television, frowning at a commercial about some sort of pill for men. "Do men actually buy things like tha'?" he asked me as I handed him a mug and sat down next to him on the couch.
"Some men, yes," I responded, my cheeks slowly matching my shirt. What an uneasy topic. To prevent myself from answering another question about that, I took a drink of my hot chocolate.
"Ah," Jack replied, giving me a knowing glance. Apparently he thought I was still a strumpet. It made my insides crawl with both disgust and joy. "Well, I suppose tha' makes some sense." Fortunately, he didn't go into that topic further. Instead, he took a sip of hot chocolate. "This is rather sweet," he commented as he swallowed the hot liquid. "I though' chocolate was supposed t' be bitter."
"Well, not here." Smiling slightly after I finished the last of my hot chocolate, I turned my ears towards the television. The commercials were over, and he was back to watching the television like a caveman or something. Why he found it so interesting was beyond me, for they were just talking about the latest gossip in Hollywood. I allowed my attention to wander aimlessly about the room. Who would you call if a star showed up in your neighborhood acting like he didn't know who he was?
"'E looks remarkably familiar," he commented a few minutes later, pointing at the man on live television talking about his next movie. His dark brown eyes were full with recognition and the always present confusion.
"Hmm?" I commented idly, coming out of my stupor of thought. I nearly dropped the mug when I realized who he was pointing at. Johnny Depp was doing a live interview over in England. The man sitting next to me on the couch...he was either Johnny Depp's clone, or he was who he said he was. But Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't a real man...right?
happy haloween: Thanks! I did keep writing...tell me if you want me to continue or not...
sunkist3208: Yep. I really did go to Wal-Mart last year for Halloween. It was very odd...we spent five or so hours wandering around the store. Craziness, that's what it was. And I'm glad you like it. Tis hard to keep the protagonist unnamed, sometimes. But that's okay. I wanted to do it this way. And that must be why everyone is so obsessed with Orlando! Great explanation. It deserves some tootsie rolls. And thanks for the poster, but I'm getting one for my birthday. Probably the same one that you're talking about.
CrazyPirateGirl: Thanks for leaving the encouragement! I hope you enjoyed this addition...
criminy: Well, that's what happened next. Leave another review and I might say what happens after this...
colecole345: Thanks for leaving your opinion. I hope this chapter was good...
MedusaCurlz: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I usually don't update so fast...anyway, she's supposed to symbolize all of us, in a way. That's why she has no name.
Emx: I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope this chapter was as interesting.
Rachel Sparrow: Whoot! You were the first reviewer! Glad that you liked it, and I hope you liked my addition to it...