Sound the Bugle
Disclaimer: All those who believe I own Jim are just a little spooky, however much I would like that. Nor do I own any of the songs references that might be mentioned here.
[Author's Note: Wow! I got responses! ^_^ Right now, Comcast has decided to take a vacation, so I'm suck off the Internet. Which is ok, I guess. I really should be doing my homework, but how interesting is putting numbers in order by their exponents? Well, I actually thought of a real plot last night, so I'm very happy. Before I was just gonna, I dunno, have Jim do something and somehow escape. I figured I'd make it up as I went along. But now I got a goood reason to why the pirates kept Jim alive instead of just killing him.]
Slowly Jim opened his eyes. He once again found himself wondering where he was. As the sleep wore away, however, the knowledge of a dank cell in God-only-knows-where sank back in. He sat up off of the flat mattress and rubbed his head. He winced groggily as his fingers roughly swept the blood- crusted hairs on the back of his head and pulled on a cut. Shaking himself he stood, cursing his sore muscles. Jim was determined to talk to someone today, he knew now that he was not alone in this prison since he saw the food squid delivering food elsewhere along his hallway.
He knelt down momentarily and massaged his stiff legs as he recapped the pirate attack on the RLS Mistletoe, trying to find anything that might have triggered the vicious attack. There was something, something very important about the ship that no one but his first mate and himself knew about. Something secret and important, and damnit all, he couldn't remember. And Jim himself had to remain hidden, as well, in the particular galaxy they were in. His first mate was the captain of the ship for a week and a half before the assault. He had been in his quarters fighting boredom when the ship was nearly knocked sideways with the force of the pirate's first blast.
Jim had thought that a -night? - of sleep would revive him: and his memories. But it had only succeeded in making his brain foggier. He was utterly confused, but decided that it would eventually come to him. Before he hadn't been able to remember that he had been hiding, or that other people were hiding, too. There it was! Others, humans like himself, were hiding inside the hull of the ship. When they were safe, Jim would be safe, and he would be able to come out of hiding again. He remember Glin, his first mate and Amelia's niece, had joked about having a 'big nosh-up party' when they were out of danger, but for all he was worth, he didn't even have that annoying feeling that it was even there at the back of his head. Oh well, that was enough soul-searching for now. Jim was hungry, and he wanted to talk with someone.
"Hello?" he called softly, hesitantly. A cough was his only response, that and if he listened closely, he could here someone breathing loudly and someone else muttering to themselves. "Can anyone here me?" he asked, a little louder. Something glowed softly, like an ember across the hallway. It shook and went out, and he could faintly see a white tendril of smoke curl up from where it was. "Is there anyone who can here me over there?" Jim asked again, in where he thought was a loud enough voice. For some reason, he was shocked when a voice, thick with both steely remorse and some strange accent, replied, "Nous sommes tout aller diminuer ici."
Damn. Fichu. The one language his mother wanted him to learn, and the one language he refused to take at the space academy. The strong, sweet scent of vanilla drifted over to him. The voice translated itself a moment later, still in that thick female accent, saying, "We are all going to diminish here." Jim sighed, discouraged by this person's depressed comment. At least, he thought, they speak English. "Where are we?" he asked, hoping that that wasn't just a one-time reaction.
"In a dungeon," they responded. Jim fought the urge to say, 'No kidding, I hadn't noticed,' but they continued, "Where we will all be broken, maimed, killed, or whatever else they feel like doing before they burn our remains." Jim decided not to comment on this being's state of mind, be it depressed or just crazy. He held a hand to his forehead as the voice (he decided that it was a girl) said, "I've been here for 12 sleeps, and I keep falling. If you stay awake when they feed you, you can here people crying. They know. They know and they won't tell, but they won't eat, either, so neither will I, and neither should you."
"Falling?" Jim asked, confused, "What are you talking about? And who're they? Why are they crying?"
Suddenly, ten small embers glowed across the hallway. They seemed to leap foreword and grab the bars of the cell. Jim could barely see the outlines of two hands. The claws of these hands glowed. Whatever that creature was, it's fingertips could glow like sparks. Two yellow eyes gleamed above the hands. Eyes that reminded him of someone from many years ago, but that he just couldn't bring to mind right now. Eyes that would haunt. "You have eaten here, tell me, who are you? Where did you come from? Where were you before you were caught? When was the day of your birth?" The eyes widened with each question, disturbing him considerably, until he thought that they couldn't get any bigger. Then they froze, waiting for his answers.
"I'm Jim, Jim Hawkins, I come from a planet called Montressor, I was on my ship, the RLS Mistletoe, and my birthday is." Jim trailed off, shocked. He didn't know. He couldn't remember. The information was just gone. Jim stuttered as he thought, and the creature across the corridor relaxed, their eyes seeming to soften and the hands eased their grip around the bars.
"There, now you see?" she asked resolutely. "No," he replied, frustrated, "No, I don't see. What does that have to do with the food of this place and why people are crying? I was hit real hard on my head before, that's why I don't remember right now, give me a while I'll get it."
"You'd better hope so," the girl said, pulling away from the bars, fingers still glowing. Lighting up another thing that seemed to be a sort of incense, she asked coolly, "Your mother's name? Your father's name?"
Jim's inner struggle began. "Sarah," he muttered, "Sarah and. and." Jim could have smacked himself. The fact that the female across the hall seemed expectantly awaiting his admittance of ignorance and her apparent air of experienced superiority just frustrated him further and make him angry. (A/N: big words.sorry) Finally giving up, but not wanting to admit it, Jim changed the subject. "Who are you, anyway? And what are we doing here?"
The creature remained darkly cool. "I once knew why we are here. It is gone now. All I know is, that we will be broken once we are lost in ourselves."
Jim was losing his patients. "Plain English, please!" he exclaimed, fed up.
The female's eyes glowed coldly. "We are here to forget we ever existed. Soon you will forget that you are Jim Hawkins from Montressor. It is the food. The soup is bizarre; it makes you forget things, thought-by-thought, day-by-day, until you find yourself waking up one day without a name. You will eventually forget about the wickedness around us, and you only know that you are hungry." She turned to glare at him, "And there's nothing you or me or any of these other poor saps can do about it."
Jim's shoulders fell from determination and anger to grim disbelief. "What? How's that.? W-Why?" he sputtered.
"I told you," she said grimly, "I forgot."
"Who are you?" Jim asked. "What are you?"
The girl stalked up to the bars again, glairing out at him, her eyes reflecting the glow of her fingertips. "I am Lee. And I am a Lupe."
[Da-na! Ok, the Lupe thing will be easier to understand eventually. Ok, now I'm gonna try to remember all the stuff I wanted to say, soo.. ummm.. Ok, first, I need some help. Not with this story, I think I'm going ok for now, but I need a beta-reader for another story I'm going type and finish eventually. As much as he rocks, I completely suck at writing in accents, and I find it VERY difficult to try and write Silver's accent. -_-;;; So if someone can beta-read and fix up some parts, I'd be eternally grateful and give you credit and apple pie and all that other nice stuff! Oh, and, if the girl's accent is hard to figure out, think Ms. Spider's voice from James and the Giant Peach. Gomen nasai for waiting a week to post this!!! Hot apple pie with ice cream on top goes to all reviewers!!!!]
Disclaimer: All those who believe I own Jim are just a little spooky, however much I would like that. Nor do I own any of the songs references that might be mentioned here.
[Author's Note: Wow! I got responses! ^_^ Right now, Comcast has decided to take a vacation, so I'm suck off the Internet. Which is ok, I guess. I really should be doing my homework, but how interesting is putting numbers in order by their exponents? Well, I actually thought of a real plot last night, so I'm very happy. Before I was just gonna, I dunno, have Jim do something and somehow escape. I figured I'd make it up as I went along. But now I got a goood reason to why the pirates kept Jim alive instead of just killing him.]
Slowly Jim opened his eyes. He once again found himself wondering where he was. As the sleep wore away, however, the knowledge of a dank cell in God-only-knows-where sank back in. He sat up off of the flat mattress and rubbed his head. He winced groggily as his fingers roughly swept the blood- crusted hairs on the back of his head and pulled on a cut. Shaking himself he stood, cursing his sore muscles. Jim was determined to talk to someone today, he knew now that he was not alone in this prison since he saw the food squid delivering food elsewhere along his hallway.
He knelt down momentarily and massaged his stiff legs as he recapped the pirate attack on the RLS Mistletoe, trying to find anything that might have triggered the vicious attack. There was something, something very important about the ship that no one but his first mate and himself knew about. Something secret and important, and damnit all, he couldn't remember. And Jim himself had to remain hidden, as well, in the particular galaxy they were in. His first mate was the captain of the ship for a week and a half before the assault. He had been in his quarters fighting boredom when the ship was nearly knocked sideways with the force of the pirate's first blast.
Jim had thought that a -night? - of sleep would revive him: and his memories. But it had only succeeded in making his brain foggier. He was utterly confused, but decided that it would eventually come to him. Before he hadn't been able to remember that he had been hiding, or that other people were hiding, too. There it was! Others, humans like himself, were hiding inside the hull of the ship. When they were safe, Jim would be safe, and he would be able to come out of hiding again. He remember Glin, his first mate and Amelia's niece, had joked about having a 'big nosh-up party' when they were out of danger, but for all he was worth, he didn't even have that annoying feeling that it was even there at the back of his head. Oh well, that was enough soul-searching for now. Jim was hungry, and he wanted to talk with someone.
"Hello?" he called softly, hesitantly. A cough was his only response, that and if he listened closely, he could here someone breathing loudly and someone else muttering to themselves. "Can anyone here me?" he asked, a little louder. Something glowed softly, like an ember across the hallway. It shook and went out, and he could faintly see a white tendril of smoke curl up from where it was. "Is there anyone who can here me over there?" Jim asked again, in where he thought was a loud enough voice. For some reason, he was shocked when a voice, thick with both steely remorse and some strange accent, replied, "Nous sommes tout aller diminuer ici."
Damn. Fichu. The one language his mother wanted him to learn, and the one language he refused to take at the space academy. The strong, sweet scent of vanilla drifted over to him. The voice translated itself a moment later, still in that thick female accent, saying, "We are all going to diminish here." Jim sighed, discouraged by this person's depressed comment. At least, he thought, they speak English. "Where are we?" he asked, hoping that that wasn't just a one-time reaction.
"In a dungeon," they responded. Jim fought the urge to say, 'No kidding, I hadn't noticed,' but they continued, "Where we will all be broken, maimed, killed, or whatever else they feel like doing before they burn our remains." Jim decided not to comment on this being's state of mind, be it depressed or just crazy. He held a hand to his forehead as the voice (he decided that it was a girl) said, "I've been here for 12 sleeps, and I keep falling. If you stay awake when they feed you, you can here people crying. They know. They know and they won't tell, but they won't eat, either, so neither will I, and neither should you."
"Falling?" Jim asked, confused, "What are you talking about? And who're they? Why are they crying?"
Suddenly, ten small embers glowed across the hallway. They seemed to leap foreword and grab the bars of the cell. Jim could barely see the outlines of two hands. The claws of these hands glowed. Whatever that creature was, it's fingertips could glow like sparks. Two yellow eyes gleamed above the hands. Eyes that reminded him of someone from many years ago, but that he just couldn't bring to mind right now. Eyes that would haunt. "You have eaten here, tell me, who are you? Where did you come from? Where were you before you were caught? When was the day of your birth?" The eyes widened with each question, disturbing him considerably, until he thought that they couldn't get any bigger. Then they froze, waiting for his answers.
"I'm Jim, Jim Hawkins, I come from a planet called Montressor, I was on my ship, the RLS Mistletoe, and my birthday is." Jim trailed off, shocked. He didn't know. He couldn't remember. The information was just gone. Jim stuttered as he thought, and the creature across the corridor relaxed, their eyes seeming to soften and the hands eased their grip around the bars.
"There, now you see?" she asked resolutely. "No," he replied, frustrated, "No, I don't see. What does that have to do with the food of this place and why people are crying? I was hit real hard on my head before, that's why I don't remember right now, give me a while I'll get it."
"You'd better hope so," the girl said, pulling away from the bars, fingers still glowing. Lighting up another thing that seemed to be a sort of incense, she asked coolly, "Your mother's name? Your father's name?"
Jim's inner struggle began. "Sarah," he muttered, "Sarah and. and." Jim could have smacked himself. The fact that the female across the hall seemed expectantly awaiting his admittance of ignorance and her apparent air of experienced superiority just frustrated him further and make him angry. (A/N: big words.sorry) Finally giving up, but not wanting to admit it, Jim changed the subject. "Who are you, anyway? And what are we doing here?"
The creature remained darkly cool. "I once knew why we are here. It is gone now. All I know is, that we will be broken once we are lost in ourselves."
Jim was losing his patients. "Plain English, please!" he exclaimed, fed up.
The female's eyes glowed coldly. "We are here to forget we ever existed. Soon you will forget that you are Jim Hawkins from Montressor. It is the food. The soup is bizarre; it makes you forget things, thought-by-thought, day-by-day, until you find yourself waking up one day without a name. You will eventually forget about the wickedness around us, and you only know that you are hungry." She turned to glare at him, "And there's nothing you or me or any of these other poor saps can do about it."
Jim's shoulders fell from determination and anger to grim disbelief. "What? How's that.? W-Why?" he sputtered.
"I told you," she said grimly, "I forgot."
"Who are you?" Jim asked. "What are you?"
The girl stalked up to the bars again, glairing out at him, her eyes reflecting the glow of her fingertips. "I am Lee. And I am a Lupe."
[Da-na! Ok, the Lupe thing will be easier to understand eventually. Ok, now I'm gonna try to remember all the stuff I wanted to say, soo.. ummm.. Ok, first, I need some help. Not with this story, I think I'm going ok for now, but I need a beta-reader for another story I'm going type and finish eventually. As much as he rocks, I completely suck at writing in accents, and I find it VERY difficult to try and write Silver's accent. -_-;;; So if someone can beta-read and fix up some parts, I'd be eternally grateful and give you credit and apple pie and all that other nice stuff! Oh, and, if the girl's accent is hard to figure out, think Ms. Spider's voice from James and the Giant Peach. Gomen nasai for waiting a week to post this!!! Hot apple pie with ice cream on top goes to all reviewers!!!!]