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 Challenge: Fire
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By Lorraine ~ Hellfire ~ Sailors fear fire almost more than any other thing. Still a sailor I am, but I don't fear the fire anymore. I extend my right hand into the hearth. I watch as the greedy flames lick at my fingers. I curl them into a fist and straighten them again as the skin blackens and the sinews pop and crackle. The smell is like a pork barbecue. I pull it out and watch as the skin becomes whole again. It is hell but for the feeling. I don't. Not the heat, not the pain, no revulsion, nothing. I feel nothing. By Felaine ~ Protection
From Fire ~ I myself am not a Papist. Most devoted to the Church of England I am, although my duties preclude frequent attendance. My mother's mother still follows the Old Way, however. She sends me trinkets; most recently a medallion of one Saint Barbara which she insists protects from fire. I considered writing the old dear that it hasn't worked against sunburn. By mere chance it was on my person (in my hat) during the Dauntless' voyage to rescue/capture our Governor's daughter and her various paramours. When that skeletal pirate shot my hat off I feared it, and I, were finished. We were not. We triumphed over our devilish adversary through the courage and discipline of the Royal Navy, with small assist from three interfering civilians. Though my hat suffered a bit, the medal was intact. Superstitious nonsense, of course; but I plan to surreptitiously place it in Commodore Norrington's sea chest. Any man intent on taking Miss Swann to wife should receive all possible assistance. By Erinya ~ Blaze of Glory ~ By Jenthegypsy ~ Protocol ~ "Ever been marooned on a godforsaken spit of land in the middle of the ocean, wearing naught but your shift, with only an infamous pirate captain and a cache of rum for company, Miss Swann?" Trinkets and beads and the gold of his mouth glinted in the firelight. "Let me think, Captain Sparrow," she said, affecting his studied pose of consideration, fingertip to chin. "No, I don't believe that I have. I wonder at the protocol of such a situation?" "It calls for singing, Miss Swann," he grinned, passing her the bottle, "and for just a bit more rum! By Nancy ~ Conflagration ~ The flickering colored tongues kept time with the frenzied pace, illuminating her graceful steps. Her song matching its power as it reflected in her eyes and on her hair. She seemed born of it and he flitted to her as she glowed; unafraid of being consumed. He fully understood why the boy offered his life in exchange for hers. She teetered on the edge of bursting out of control while his words of freedom stoked her spirit, allowing him contact that would otherwise be shunned. Just as they were both entranced, reason squelched the moment and then he passed out. By Hereswith ~ Plans Coming to Pass ~ I It was hard work, feeding the fire. She dragged, carried and tossed, while day dawned in the east and the shipless captain slept. Her arms ached, before long; she stubbed her toe and got a splinter in her hand, but she managed, because she could not sit and do nothing, when there was something she could do. She could easily guess what Jack would say, how he would sputter
and fume, and she honed her arguments, watching the
White sails for life, not black sails for death. She waited for the sight of them, her heart in her throat, and the smoke rose behind her, much like a storm cloud. Surely they would see it. Please, God, let them come. She did not glance to the side, at the lone figure who wound
his way across the beach, barefoot in the sand, even though she
wanted to. She looked to the sea, instead, and tried not to think
about how the white sails of the Royal Navy, that By Jack E. Nunya ~ The Sign ~ "Confounded Turner. His meddling did more damage than he
knows– there’s no way we're going to catch the Black
Pearl now. The Dauntless is just too slow– we "I know, Gillette." "We’ve been searching for days and with no sign of either of them. I don’t think we’ll make it. We need a sign." "Your astounding optimism is encouraging, Lieutenant." "Shut up, Groves." "So long as you will." "Hmph.…Ah, Theo?" "Yes, Gillette?" "Is it just me or does that cloud look like a really big fire's smoke?" "…Get the commodore. We may have found our sign." By Eledhwen ~ Fire in the Forge ~ The unfinished blade was red with heat, turning a dull orange as he hammered. The sound of metal on metal rang sharply through the forge, and sweat ran down Will’s face. He plunged the sword back in the hot coals, wiped his brow with his sleeve; took the weapon out again and continued his hammering. Under his skilled touch the new sword took shape, long and thin and ready for sharpening, ready for the hand of its owner. A strong hand, and good steel, and the heat of the fire – all that was needed to create a tool of death. By Jack E. Nunya ~ Fire, Moonlight, and Shadow ~ By Geek Mama ~ Fire All! ~ "Fire all!" Elizabeth had roared, as loud as
she could, forcing her voice over wind, wave, and the mob of pirates.
The Interceptor's guns roared back in response, echoing
the command. The ship, the air, the world shuddered and cracked
with sound, and then with smoke, fire, and splinters as the Black
Pearl gave reply, deadly An avenging goddess, Will said, waxing poetical when he spoke of the moment, many years later. A Valkyrie, an angel of death. Maybe so. All she remembered was she'd never felt more human and more alive than in that moment. By Melusina ~ Moloch ~ Fire. The cut isn't particularly painful, but the blood and gold together in his hand, that burns worse than any injury he's sustained at the forge, as if the fire is in his blood, and the gold is melding with his body. When he tosses the coin into the chest, it clings to his fingers unpleasantly, as if loath to leave him. In a flash it's over, and the pain is bearable again. Elizabeth's touch is soothing and cool, like a dream of snow on a sultry night. Then she meets his gaze, and there it is again: fire. **** Notes: A Moloch is "Any influence which demands from us the sacrifice of what we hold most dear. Thus, war is a Moloch, king mob is a Moloch, the guillotine was the Moloch of the French Revolution, etc. The allusion is to the god of the Ammonites, to whom children were “made to pass through the fire”, in sacrifice." (Definition borrowed from Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable.) By Jack E. Nunya ~ Of Pirates and Fire ~ He burned my ass. All the wrongs he’d done throughout the day weren’t enough for that stupid pirate–he had to go and burn my ass. If it had been hard working with the smell of alcohol bombarding me before, it certainly would be taxing now. Burnt flesh and all that rot. And if that didn’t make things difficult enough, then every time there’s a bang from outside or whenever someone other than myself comes through the door would certainly do the trick. I’m rather tired of having to stop my work to catch her and calm her down every five minutes.…Pirates and fire don’t mix. By Jack E. Nunya ~ Spit of Trouble ~ Bein’ tied to a spit too tightly to properly circulate me blood wasn’ really the mos’ sour part of gettin’ caught by cannibalistic aborigines, believe it or not. Nor was it when they got the fire started up an’ started spinnin’ me ‘round like an oversized boor from Africa. No, I’d ‘ave t’say that the mos’ foul, mos’ pessimistic, mos’ disgustin’ part o’ the whole thin’ was when they started addin’ them fruits and vegetables to the mix. Fire’s hot an’ all, yes, but there’s nothin’ worse than the taste of unripe tomato leakin’ into yer mouth…’specially when yeh bloody ‘ate tomatoes. Blah.
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