Black
Pearl Tales
is the official archive of
Black Pearl Sails
and Black Pearl Library.
Pirates of the Caribbean
is the property of the
Disney Corporation.
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a Drabble
Challenge: Aches
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By Honorat ~ Waiting ~ She never knows when she will hear his steps on the threshold. Never knows when she will come home into the crush of his arms. When she will hear the broken murmur of his prayer lost in the tangle of her hair: Oh God! Marguerite! My Pearl! Forgive! She always forgives. For a breath of time she knows happiness so deep it aches. In that moment, her body resurrects the memory of what it means to be this man’s wife. Reminds her why she waits for him, watering the parchment of his rare letters with rainy eyes until they are limp and soft as silk. But he has another Pearl, who hangs over her joy like a sword. She knows that he will always leave her—will fly to his other darker lady out on the midnight sea. All her days, she knows grief so deep it aches. As she stands on the dock with their small son’s hand clutching hers, she does not let him see the tears she will shed when the sails have gone down the horizon. The love and the hate lie side by side in her heart with the blade of a sword between.
By Honorat ~ Torn
~ Someday, he imagines, coming home will tear him completely in two. In the moonlight, he brushes the silver traces of tears on her cheek with trembling fingertips—tears she never sheds when she thinks he is awake. He cannot hold her close enough to ease the ache of his love. Tomorrow he will wave farewell to her and to their son who worships him but does not know him—does not know his father is a pirate. He will set sail returning to the Black Pearl. To the man to whom he has been more of a father than to his own son. He tells himself he does this for them. But he knows he cannot help himself. The sea calls with her siren song. He can never sail far enough to escape the ache of his own integrity.
By Honorat ~ Toothache ~ “Jack,” Bootstrap’s voice would brook no arguments. “We’ve taken a vote. You’ve got to go.” “Bloody hell, Bill. I’ve told you before, I am not going.” “If you don’t, you’re gonna start blowin’ the kneecaps off your shipmates just to improve your temper. Now don’t make me have to hit you over the head.” “You couldn’t if you tried.” “Since when was the infamous Jack Sparrow afraid of a little pain?” “Bill, are you tryin’ to make me kill you? I’m not afraid of a little pain. I’m afraid of a bloody great awful lot of pain.” “You’re already in a bloody great awful lot of pain. Now stop being such a namby pamby infant Jack.” The only reply was the smack of a fist impacting a quickly thrown up defensive hand. “You can get them replaced with gold.” “Gold?” “Yep.” “Well now that’s different.”
By Brandy ~ Legend ~ The legend told that she walked out of the sea, like Aphrodite, dressed in cream and lace, strings of pearls looped through her perfectly spiral curls, and a blush on her cheeks. She was the water to quench his fiery thirst. And thus she was born and they sailed away into the sunset, the Captain and his beauty of the sea. Yet, no one speaks of her life before the pirate. It was as if she didn’t have one, but instead was simply placed on the earth a woman: flesh, blood, and lust. Or perhaps people don’t want to hear about the aching of a heart and the lost girl who constantly looked to the horizon. The emotion of longing was far too human to be included in the fantastic. For whatever the reason, the memory of a girl gone astray who found her destiny in the stormy eyes of a rum-soaked pirate will remain just that, a memory, lost at sea with its keeper and her scallywag of a savior. It is no matter to her now. The storytelling, she’ll leave to the poets and the dreamers who still glance fondly at the seemingly unreachable horizon. For, she knows, they only long for what she has finally been able to hold in her arms and kiss with her lips. No matter how legendary she becomes, nothing will compare to the real story of the Captain and his beauty of the sea.
By Felaine ~ Perspectives
~ From another perspective the incident might have entertained me--the behemoth Dauntless without rudder control annihilating its tiny rowboat. Most amusing--I'm sure Sparrow and Turner enjoyed it--save from my vantage point. I cannot swim. Those who could dove for those of us who couldn't, but my heavier uniform sank me deepest. Alas, there was no pirate maiden nearby to disrobe and rescue me. The chest congestion which accompanies prolonged submersion is abominable; I ache with every breath. Fort Charles' infirmary is overwhelmed from the pirate raid, so I insisted on being taken to my rooms. My landlady, Mrs. Fremont, has a Particular Friend, a native woman skilled in herbalism, Tante Louise. Together they have dosed and wrapped and poulticed me until I am unsure if I feel better or worse than when I watched the Caribbean waters close over my head. That was in jest, of course. I am much improved and grateful beyond words for their ministrations. The coughing and chills have abated. I will be with my crewmates when the Dauntless sails tomorrow, despite Tante Louise muttering of Black Magic and exhorting me to remain here. I reassured her; I have just survived near-drowning. What is more frightening than that?
By Geek Mama ~ The Second Time ~ He sits, and takes a deep swig of rum. Medicinal purposes. Though it's not like the first time. For one thing, he's not alone. Oh, she's a mite prickly. But what woman ain't? She's easy on the eyes. He smiles at this gross understatement. And that prickliness... that spirit... that'll keep him amused. And her alive. That, and the rum. And that's the other thing: this time he knew about the cache. That first time, when he'd gained this shore, and turned, and watched his ship -- his Pearl! -- fading into the distance... well, he'd never felt such an agony of impotent fury. And, yes: despair. After all, he didn't find the rum right off. He puts the treasure to his lips: burning, soothing heat. Then turns to savor his companion, moving away, down the beach. Sweet sway of hips. Flash of bare ankles. No, it's not like the first time.
By Jenthegypsy
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