Summary: "Each grave has a story. This graveyard was split into two sections; the honest and the outlaws. It was one of these gravestones that stood out the most." Based on "Jack Sparrow. He's dead. Buried in an unmarked grave on the island of Saint Martin." PreDMTNT. What if it were true?
A/N: Guess who's out of school for this week and the two after? Yeahhhh….I need to entertain myself somehow, and that's where writing comes in. Savvy?
The Unmarked Grave
The graveyard on the island of Saint Martin was different than most. This graveyard was split into two sections, rather than staying all as whole. One of those sections was for the honest people, where their names and lifespan were written. The other, was for the outlaws. In that particular section, the graves were unmarked. The honest people felt that the rogues, pirates, and thieves didn't deserve to be remembered. So their names weren't there.
When one approached the section of the outlaws, they were met with the horrors of the dead men's last memories. Many were by hanging and firing squad, but another few stood out. There were two or three by guillotine. But there were more that didn't fit in. These were the ones that had fallen in battle.
It was one of these gravestones that stood out the most, despite being unmarked. This gravestone, in particular, was much more damaged by the others. It was as if others had visited and took their anger out on it. The body beneath the stone belonged to a man that had once been well known- notorious, actually- for piracy.
This was the grave of Captain Jack Sparrow, former Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, heir to the Keeper of the Pirate Code, and captain of the Black Pearl.
The memory surrounding his grave was one of a hopeless battle.
British soldiers came running toward the Dying Gull from down the beach. Their weapons were already drawn. Sparrow and what was left of his crew were already defeated by the harshness of life. They didn't put up much of a fight when they met the attack.
The soldiers gave no mercy.
The pirates fell like flies, their deaths brutal. One named Scrum took a sword to the gut and a bullet to the face before he gave into death. The dwarf, Marty, had his head lobbed off by a sword. The others faced similar barbaric deaths.
Sparrow was the last of his crew alive.
He took several deep gashes to his limbs, still parrying blades despite them. The numbers of the soldiers overwhelmed him and he was skewered through the chest. He gasped for air, even after the sword was withdrawn. His free hand clutched at the entrance wound futilely, struggling to keep his sword raised.
His sword was whacked from his grasp. It hit the ground with a dull thud, his body falling beside it moments later. A new stab wound went straight through his heart.
Each grave has a story, and that's only one of the many.