Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to POTC. All rights go to Disney.
This story takes place thirteen years after The Curse of the Black Pearl. Will (writer swoons at name) has been married to long time love Elizabeth (writer says 'grrr', but doesn't really mean it) and they have one son, nearly thirteen year old Jack (named for the monkey). They live a simple life, until an old friend visits.
Welcome, my readers, to a ghost story. (Theme to POTC plays)
Jack Turner wiped a short lock of dark brown hair from his sweaty face. His eyes, cautious and deep, bated away at sweat. With a hard gaze he stared, entranced by the fire. He waited. The fire roared and Jack thrust his newest work into the high flame. In moments the steel changed to a red glow. He turned in a single fluid movement, so fast that he created an arc of fire where the burning metal had swung. With grace and ease Jack lifted a hammer and started to pound on the steel, shaping it into a sharp blade. Finally, Jack lowered it into the water bucket, hearing it sizzle and ducking back to avoid the steam that drifted away.
After a tense minute of waiting, Jack cautiously pulled the finished sword from the water. He held it and allowed the water to run down the glistening blade. This was the best sword he had ever made; maybe it was even better than some of his father's early pieces. There was a creak of wood behind Jack, and Jack looked, hoping that it might be his father.
To his surprise, it was a slight girl entering, her eyes darting around the shop. Even more surprising, was her general appearance. Her straw colored hair was shorter than his own was, and she wore a pair of trousers that were torn along the bottom, as if they had been adjusted to fit her. She gazed at him with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.
"Are you William Turner?" she inquired cautiously. Dumbfounded, Jack simply shook his head. Girls never came into a black smith's shop.
"Do you know where he is?" she asked again, a bit slowly, as if unsure that Jack could completely understand her.
"Yeah, I mean yes. Yes, I know where he is. Why?" It was Jack's turn for a question. "Who are you and what do you want with my father?"
"You're father is William Turner?"
"Yes. Do you want to see him or not?" Jack was very curious now. Of all the women he had ever seen enter the shop, none had specified that they wished to see his father. Most were on the arms of husbands or fathers, waiting to leave the humble place.
"Yeah, of course. I've got a message for him," the girl replied.
"I'll take you then. By the way, what's you're name?"
"Usually Natie, but when a certain captain is feeling, well, I'm not sure what exactly he's feeling, he'll call me little Jackie."
"Odd, my name is Jack." At this, Natie burst out laughing.
"Are you serious, oh, oh. That'll give the cap'n a hoot," Natie explained over her own laughs. As the gale subsided, Jack started to lead the way to his house through the winding streets. Once outside the house, he worked up some nerve and turned around.
"Why, may I ask, will the captain find my name amusing?" he asked, holding the door open for Natie. After they were both in and Jack had called for his father, she made her reply.
"Because my captain," she stated slowly, "is Captain Jack Sparrow."
So, tell me what you think.
