No Sweet Good-bye
A/n: Well, here's Chapter One. And as far as my old stories are concerned, I have an update for To Hate Her Own as well. I wonder how many of you have forgotten about it by now? Either way, remembered or not, I want to thank the people that reviewed my older stories.
Much love,
Dancing In The Dark (and I'm considering changing my pen name, but I'm not sure yet)
Disclaimer: Look to prologue.
Chapter One
Sometimes at night she would dream. In those dreams there was a big house, and laughing faces. It smelled of flowers and burning wood. It was nothing like the way she was used to living, and she had no idea how she, a mere slave, could dream of something so extravagant, when all she'd ever set eyes upon was the slum of the streets. Oh, when she had to dance it was beautiful places she traveled to, dressed in the finest silks. But they were all palaces, and she never saw the insides of the rooms, couldn't begin to know what each one held behind the doors. But in this dream, it was a house. No, a mansion. No palace, by far, but grand in it's own rights. A home. A place a beautiful little family lived. She could taste the food they ate, feel the softness of the beds they slept in. All she'd ever eaten was scraps, hardly filling. And she slept in a cold cell at night. In this dream, she was full and happy and smiling. She never smiled in reality. She had nothing to smile for. The only time a smile was on her face was when one needed to be there. When she was dancing for important, rich men. For kings. When she was dancing, she was free. And with that freedom, a gleam came to her eyes. But that was the only time. In this dream, she always had a gleam in her eyes. Always. That's why she slept more as of late. In the dream she could escape and be happy for a little while. In the dream, she couldn't feel the wounds on her back from the flogging she had taken a week ago. They still hadn't healed fully. She still tossed and turned from the dull ache they brought. Her master was lucky he had clothes that could conceal all the scars he had given her. She was his best dancer, and with a bit of smugness that was dangerous for a slave to have, she knew he would be nowhere without her.
8 8 8
Captain Jack Sparrow was heading for Egypt. After the adventure he'd had with the young Turner couple nearly a year ago now, he was spoiling for another. Or at least spoiling to make trouble in different surroundings. Wherever the thirty-year-old captain went, trouble followed in his wake. It was just his unbelievable charm, he knew. It had been at least six years since he had last set eyes upon the hot sands of the desert, and he figured it was time to go back and have a little fun. His crew could really use the rest anyway, he thought. They had just finished taking over yet another bloody merchant ship, after the sixteen they'd already found this month alone. It was getting old, boring, and tiring. There was a time for work, and a time for celebrating. It was time for celebrating. He looked up into the sun, and closed his dark khol-lined eyes for a brief second. He was glad to be leaving behind the Caribbean for a little while, anyway. He could never stay there for long. Too many memories. Yet he could never stay away, either. Pushing down the distant yet familiar feeling of grief at the thought of his history with the blue waters of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow focused on steering his beloved ship, his only family.
A/n: Short, I know. The next few chapters may be a bit short, as I feel the story out. But I do know where it's going. What did you guys think? Let me know! I'll love you forever!
Dancing In The Dark