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:
Inch
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By Geek Mama ~ Give Him An Inch ~
The blade'd been broken, but it'd been deadly sharp and only an inch away. Yet the moment was too sweet. He'd had to gloat. "Heady tonic, holding life and death in the palm of one's hand." "You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow!" Lord, that was rich, coming from Jones. "Cruel is a matter of perspective," Jack had replied, with gentle malice. "Oh, is it now?" The scene played behind Jack's eyes, over and over, on the way to Tortuga. Almost as bad as the Locker. One inch to immortality, and happily ever after. Might as well have been a mile.
By Sal323 ~ An Inch of Ink ~ Often, in those tumultuous days, Elizabeth had glimpsed ink beneath the flutter of his shirt. The tricksy breeze would catch its edges, whispering, Look, do you see? Do you understand now? But she’d refused to look, refused to understand why this adept conjuror of language had choosen to speak his truth in the indelible silence of ink and blood. She knew him better now, understood the stillness between his words, and delighted in the eloquence of that single inch of ink above his heart; a swan in flight, soaring toward the heavens. When she kissed him there, they soared together.
By Pink Bagels ~ Inchworm ~ Will hasn't yet discovered that he's here, but it is early in his captaincy, and Will has his bitter victory to contemplate. To have her once every ten years is quite a penance for the crime that is love. Then again, ten years is fairer than never. He watches as a small worm pries itself from its home within the planks, the tiny holes it had made doing little damage. This is how it is with him in regards to Elizabeth--Such little damage, such a small insignificance. James Norrington sighs. How cruel was that kiss, that inch, his eternity's unrest.
By Ghillie Kitten ~ Inch By Inch ~ The rope that Will grabbed onto seemed insubstantial – a thread of silk in a spider’s web – compared to the power of sea in Davy Jones Locker, the sea that seemed to be pulling him down, away from the railing of the capsized Pearl. Still, that rope was the only chance he had to get back to the world of the living. So he fought the call of the sea, hand over hand, inch by inch, even though the rope seemed to go on for miles. The minutes that passed seemed to go on for hours, and the Pearl still seemed so far away …Will wondered just how much further he would have to climb, and how much longer he would be able to resist the sea’s call.
And a sequel, posted February 27... ~ Mere Inches
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By Sarah Sparrow ~ Inch ~ Jack opened the door, gripping the chest in one hand. He glanced around and, seeing no one, started inching toward the rail. If he could just make it to the Pearl, he'd be home free. But. . . it just wasn't meant to be. "Aha ha! Lookee here, boys. A lost bird. A lost bird that never learned to fly." Davey Jones started toward the Sparrow, intent on destroying it. `Bugger!' Jack thought. `I was so close!' He continued inching in the direction of the rail as he thought of a way to distract Jones and his fish-face crew. Rambling always works. "To my great regret. But!" He paused just long enough to finish the run to the rail and grab a rope. "Never too late to learn, eh?" With that brilliant retort he jumped up on the rail and smashed the chest on the rigging holding the rope in place, sending him flying. That'll teach `im for makin' a bird analogy!
By Cat ~ Inch ~ "Will!" "Elizabeth!" "Monkey!" Jack scurried over the fallen mast in hot pursuit of that irksome simian pet of Barbossa's. He reached out his hand, just inches from his quarry when the equally annoying voice of his nemesis broke his concentration. "Why, thank ye, Jack." Jack glanced up at Barbossa, his vile pet perched on his shoulder, medallion once again out of reach. "You're welcome." Barbossa smiled, he'd won this time. Why not rub it in? "Not you, we named the monkey Jack." Jack grimaced a smile. Not the legacy he'd hoped for. Well,at least they didn't name the bloody thing Captain Jack… By Djarum99 ~ Eclipse ~ Nothing changed, the day they stole him from an empty hell. Day bled into twilight, love remained silent, and eternity swallowed her father’s ghost. Jack's resurrection altered none of that. By midnight, the moon blazes red. A pearl transformed to ruby magic - she climbs skyward, finds him in the crow’s nest. Pride refuses retreat. “Legend says they’re swiving, the moon and sun. She steals his fire to feed the stars - never stops him taking her again.” “Liar.” “No. Nothing left to lose.” If she turns her head an inch, finds truth in those dark-sea eyes, she will burn. By Sequence_Fairy ~ Inch ~ Just an inch; a tiny, but yawning chasm that separated her lips from his. He watched her, eyes half-closed. Her lips were soft now, but they had a habit of changing quick-fast to a sharp-edged line when he annoyed her. Her eyes were closed, and she hesitated, and then tightened her grip on his waist. Time slowed to a stop, the rush of the sea and the distant cries of his crew the only sounds he could hear as she pressed closer, closer, closer, until, finally, yes, the inch separated them no more. By Cmgacrux ~ Inch ~ His breath is scorching like the fire of a thousand suns, rum-scented and sweet with sugarcane, yet she winds her arms around his neck, opens her mouth to him, praying he won't realize what he is doing. Were he in his right mind, he would never have come looking for her, willing to dry her tears and hold her close. He would have restrained himself, for she deserves neither his compassion nor the soothing touch of his hands. But although she is well aware of that, she keeps inching toward him, breathless with hope and trepidation. “Kiss me, Jack.”
And a sequel, by Geek Mama... ~ Inch Away ~ She’d been drinking, or she’d never have said it, maudlin and needy in the face of fate. She’d never have come to him at all, but when he’d caught and cornered her in that shadowed alcove, her eyes pleading, her wet cheeks flushed with more than just loss, he knew he had her. The air had never been cleared between them. Her guilt and his wounded pride were the weight that held them apart, though it shackled them together, too. Most of the time she was pirate enough to set it aside. Most of the time he was good man enough to pretend he didn’t enjoy her weaker moments. He’d been drinking, as well. But not enough. So that inch brushed by, and he breathed into her ear, “It’s the rum talking, Lizzie.” Then he held her, until she’d calmed, and the weight, somewhat lessened, settled in place once more. By Komandant_Krech ~ Drowned ~
Half of Jack's drunken natterings drown under the crackling of the fire and the roar of the surging waves. But his hand is warm, his fingers supple and bold and sure when they sneak down her shoulder, to rest atop her collarbone, brushing away the brine-soaked linen of her shift. He rambles on, something about the pleasant views and while Elizabeth understands the innuendo and realizes she should slap his offending hand away, to be the virtuous lady she has always been taught to be, she can't but inch herself closer. Surely just one inch can't hurt, surely, when the sun has died, the night gets cold and there might be no tomorrow. She summons her courage and meets his gaze. Little sparks of the fire reflect gold on the keen, bottomless blackness and she drowns, the second time in her life. By Fried_Flamingo ~ The Width of the Tang ~ He’s come close to death before, but never has the trapdoor swung from under him. The thud reverberates through the gallows and Jack’s feet scramble for purchase on the narrow sliver. Later, he recounts the episode to Gibbs. “Boy can throw a blade, mate, I’ll give him that. One inch of metal between me and a sudden stop.” He laughs, another tale woven into the legend. But, in the dark, he feels the bite of the rope, hears the snap of bone that steals the breath from his lungs. And he ponders on the providence of an inch of steel. By Breathless_Dawn ~ Inch ~ She accepts the mug proffered by Tia Dalma. Against de cold, and de sorrow. She is numb. Hardly daring to breathe for fear of what emotions may follow. She is vaguely aware of Will talking, of Gibbs honouring his captain with a toast. She has begun to cry.
“To Jack Sparrow.” He raises his mug.
Ragetti follows suit. “Was never another like Captain Jack.”
“He was a gentleman of fortune, he was,” Pintel says.
It is her turn now, and as she raises her cup she can only think to say, “He was a good man.” The others drink. Elizabeth lifts the mug, but stops an inch away from her lips. She cannot pretend her hands are clean. By Sal323 ~ Vengeance ~ The trickster is gone; without need of moonlight the Fool transforms into Death, and his eyes, murder-black, are unforgiving. He remembers, then, the scowling figure on the beach, smudging into the horizon as they sailed away with the boy-king’s prize. For ten long years that murderous glare has haunted him, burning colder than the grave. “This shot is for you,” Jack promised, arms sweeping into a swan dive. “You’re already dead, Barbossa.” An inch, either way, would have made him a liar. But the wound leaks heart’s blood into his shirt and the sweet scent of apples is already fading. By This_Weirdness ~ Inch ~ The crimson stain spread across his shirt like a rose baring its petals to the sun. An inch to the left (or to the right for that matter) and everything would have been fine. It would have been painful, but that would have been a good thing. Pain was a feeling, and feeling was good, feeling was what he wanted. To feel was to live. Too long he had been without feeling. I feel nothing... not the wind on my face, nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman's flesh. He felt then, but not pain. “I feel... cold.” Death's icy fingers caught him as he fell. By Virgo79 ~ Satellite ~ There is one place on his Pearl, thoroughly reclaimed as she may be, that Jack avoids; one bit of personal space he doesn’t slip like an adder or drop like a rock into. Be they bowed over a chart together in contemplation of quarry or shelter, shoulder-by-shoulder at the helm under stars or storm, or declaring, over rum, a truce in their perpetual duel of hard heads, Jack and Anamaria maintain a miniscule distance from one another, an inch of space that neither will breach. Unoccupied is not precisely the same as empty, however, and that inch holds within itself a great many things, foremost of which is necessity, but more importantly, and in abundance enough to fill a black ship from stem to stern, is understanding. By Compassrose7577 ~ Inch ~ "Where did that come from?" Jack fingered the tattered length of lace at his wrist, a momento of a love lost, separated by distance and circumstance. Regrets and doubts would be needless; nothing could have been done differently… minus the obvious. "Came in an envelope," he said, pensively. Worn and water-stained it was, containing a brief note and a seductive whiff of perfume that triggered a whirl of tangled memories. "From her," it said, the inch-wide piece falling out, a tenuous, single life-line. How old was she now, sixteen? No, seventeen—a woman in bloom. "It's me daughter's."
~ Solace ~ Nights found Elizabeth leaning over the gunwale, seeking solitary solace as they sailed for Singapore. But she was not alone, for Barbossa had taken to contemplating the distant, dark horizon during the same haunted hours. He never spoke, but each night stood beside her, near enough that their arms touched with each pitch of the ship. She’d felt no human touch since Jack; Barbossa’s warmth was not unwelcome. Her hand rested just an inch from his, the space between brimming with energy. With but a tiny movement, she might feel his skin beneath hers. Her breath caught. She dared not.
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