|Cast Away: Part 1
Author: jbduenweg PM
Lord Cutler Beckett survived his attempt of suicide upon the Endeavor, only to be stranded 10 years on an uninhibited island with a very unusual friend.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Hurt/Comfort - Cutler B. - Chapters: 6 - Words: 5,864 - Reviews: 44 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 09-11-08 - Published: 06-13-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3591868
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Pathetically short, I know. I'll write more soon!
CAST AWAY - Part 1:
The weeks stretched on into months...Cutler became more insane than ever. Now he understood Jack Sparrow's odd behavior the last time he saw him...
Cutler mumbled meaningless words to himself as he sorted seashells on the beach according to size and shape. Eddie was right beside him, nestled in the sand.
"This is bloody awful," Cutler sighed, sitting down on his backside, stretching his legs after several long minutes of squatting. "I hate living here. Not a single ship has passed by since I got here. Why?"
Perhaps you smell so bad, that the sailors keep their ships far away from this island. Eddie commented.
"Who cares?" Cutler sneered back. "I certainly don't care myself."
Then why did you mention it, then?
Cutler gave Eddie a quizzical look before gazing back at the water, flopping back onto his back, and emitting a loud groan.
Cutler Beckett had built himself a three-room house out of palm trees, palm leaves, grass, and mud. It looked rather nice, and was quite large. He used his brightly printed bedsheets that washed ashore for drapes, and a piece of the Endeavor as a door. In fact – it even had the first letter of the name of the ship in the center of the 'door' as well.
"At least I can bother making myself at home, shouldn't I," he thought aloud, which he had been doing for the longest time. "There is plenty of room and plenty of supplies, and my things keep washing ashore, so why the hell not?"
Keep your chatter to yourself. I'm getting another headache again.
"I need more rum," Cutler sighed after he completed his makeshift table. A chair had washed ashore in one piece, as well as hundreds of pieces of wood. He made do with whatever he got.
Dusting off his hands, Cutler examined his 'main' room. With all of the wood and things that grew on the little island and everything that had washed ashore, he was very content about how nice everything looked.
There were several waist-high stands he made for his candles – which were empty rum bottles holding a candle (from his 'candle trunk' that washed ashore.), and out of the rocks from around the place he made a little fireplace. It wasn't very big, but he could fit his cooking pot inside it for a good fish-and-seaweed dinner.
Cutler walked into his 'bedroom' and sighed happily. Out of the wood he found he built his bed. He filled it with layers and layers of grass, seagull feathers, and palm leaves. Then he covered the sturdy but soft filling with a piece of heavy canvas from a torn sail, and put his bedsheets on and his pillow and blankets. He made his own nightstand, and simply dressed and groomed himself out of his nearby trunks.
Turning around, Cutler walked across the 'house' into the room on the other side. This was his storage room. It was built over the door into rum hold, which was now filled with things he found and food he dried and attempted to preserve.
I have never imagined how self-sufficient I became to be. He thought. But instincts can still be retained after generations of my former life. I wonder what will become of me?
With that sad thought on his mind, Cutler turned and headed outside. He walked towards the beach, and sat down in the sand. Looking up, he noticed how overcast it was. A storm was coming in...again. His little house lasted through three of them as he built it, so he wasn't worried. If it blew down, he will built it again. He had nothing to lose.
After a moment of sitting in his own misery, Cutler got up, scooped up Eddie on his way back into his house, and headed inside with his priceless coconut friend under his arm.
The storm passed. Just a strong breeze, some rain, and lightning. The rain was washed away from the palm leaf room he built, so he had few if any leaks to deal with. The lightning was fun to watch, and the breeze was chilly but refreshing.
You like it here too much! Eddie fussed. You have so many chances of getting off this island, but you don't bother! Why is that?
"I don't know..." Cutler answered. "It seems that my former life has ended and a new one has just begun."
Oh, listen to yourself! You're depressed! I need a break from this, and I need a break from you. No offense, but remember the time we've met? You kicked me and skinned me for falling on your head!
"Why don't you try getting blown up in your own ship by pirates?!" Cutler shouted back at him. "Then perhaps you would understand."
Coconuts can't have ships.
"I know, but you are...you are..." Cutler blushed at what he was about to say.
I am what?
"You're my best and only friend I've ever had," he choked out, his eyes brimming with tears as he turned away to the window to watch the last of the lightning. It was hard for him to be honest, since he had never practiced honesty in his entire life. But Eddie always had a comeback for such truth.
Do I get a prize for that?