|
By Ophelia
August 24, 2005
~ Age
Does Not Wither ~
It was a sign of age he felt sure, the damnable
thing was mocking him. The snowy whiteness of it laughed in the
bright Caribbean sunlight. It hadn't bothered him at first, it
had been a symbol of status, a point of respect, to him at least
but then he had always been in the habit of attatching significance
to mundane and functunal items; it had something to do with feeling
like one himself at times and so helped to boost his self-esteem
when his confidence was at a low ebb.
But now the thing could rot in hell for all he cared. It made
him look and feel old and that was an undesirable quality in a
man of barely thirty, especially when the apple of his eye was
not yet twenty. A tap at the door roused him from his sour contemplation.
"It's nearly time sir. Everyone's gathering."
"I'll be right there Gilette."
The man left. With a resigned sigh Norrington reached out and
thrust his perfectly groomed white wig onto his head and checked
himself in the mirror. Distinguished, that was the word to think
of and one befitting a Comadore, at least he would be in about
twenty minutes.
By Triskellion
August 24, 2005
~ White
Sails ~
"Just wait, Captain Sparrow. You give it one hour, maybe
two, keep a weather eye open and then you will see white sails
on that horizon."
Jack fumbled with his pistol for a moment, for the first time
since Barbossa gave it to him seriously considering using it on
someone other than Barbossa.
He had thought that she understood, he didn't want white sails.
He wanted black sails, black sails overhead while he watched the
horizon.
Since he didn't have that, a bottle of rum or two would suffice
until he did. 'Cept now the rum's gone.
Bloody stupid lass.
By Geek Mama
August 25, 2005
~ White
Man~
He was different, all right, his skin under that uniform, once
they'd got it off, pale as ivory. Made the wound look even worse
than it was. Made it wrong, in a way that struck her to
the heart.
She set her jaw and helped Jack do what they had to do to save
him, but it was hard. By the end, there were tears streaking her
cheeks. None on his, though, nor any cry on his lips, that stubborn,
bloody-minded courage serving, though it left him limp as a rag,
and his face dead white under it's shipboard tan.
By Penny
August 25, 2005
~ White
~
I suppose everyone starts out "white".
A clean slate. Going through life, it's hardly a mystery that
they can get stained. That's what makes a man well, a man.
But he was more tainted than anyone. Stained with blood, tears
and sweat.
She was tainted too. Stained with gunpowder, death and dirt.
When they united he fixed her. With care he swept up her gunpowder,
washed away her dirt and filled her with so much love that her
death faded to a long forgotten nightmare.
In time she will heal him. Dry his tears, wipe way his blood
his sweat.
But the Captain and his Pearl are still stained, still scarred.
I guess that's what makes a man well, a man.
By Felaine
August 25, 2005
~ Her
Father's Daughter~
from the personal journal of Weatherby
Swann
The Bible says love believes all things. Surely I would never
have believed love could persuade my daughter to routinely greet
the white light of the bright Caribbean dawn.
Since childhood the girl had a passion for her pillow, and after
an evening's entertainment it was not uncommon that she break
her fast in the late afternoon.
But a blacksmith rises before dawn, to avoid the heat of the
day; and a blacksmith's wife must do the same, if she wishes to
support and sustain her usband.
I am told the first few days she was barely conscious as the
sun rose. There was an incident with eggs in the coffee mill and
beans mixed with milk...I'm certain William forgave her after
he stopped retching.
Elizabeth has learned, and persevered, and exchanged the white
satin of her wedding gown for the variegated reality of married
life. She says she has never been happier, and I have never been
more proud.
By Jenthegypsy
August 27, 2005
~ White
Hot ~
He was willing to overlook her impetuous and undignified behavior
during those first days. She was, after all, very young, and had
yet to learn what level of respect his years at sea should afford
him. He was a most tolerant and civilized soul, and thought it
best for her to come to the realization of his station on her
own.
But the incident this morning had proved his undoing. Ambushed
while napping, suffering the loss of yet another of his beautiful
tail feathers to that flea-bitten, crook tailed, black
she devil of a ships cat had driven him beyond seeing
red. His anger burned white hot.
Some day, he would get that cat!
By Honorat Selonnet
August 29, 2005
~ Invitation
to Dance ~
Here she comes.
Captain Sparrow deliberately turned his head to glance over his
shoulder. The Interceptor had pulled away from the pier and was
setting out for the Dauntless. Jacks pistol rested on his
shoulder, one finger of the hand that held it thoughtfully pointing
skyward. A slow smile crept over his face, glinting ivory and
gold. Certainly it was the predatory smile of a successful hunter
who sees his quarry drawing close. But it was also the smile of
a captain who sees one of the tall ladies of the sea curtseying
with her white canvas skirts billowing to the man with whom she
has chosen to dance.
Come my lovely lady. Slip those tight Navy chains and fly
the seas with Captain Jack. Youll never look back, and I
swear Ill always treat you right.
By Erinya
August 29, 2005
~ Little
White Flowers ~
~.~
All our authors
thrive on feedback. Email
the Webmaster to have comments forwarded to the author.

Back
to Drabble Menu
|