|It's Spelled Jill
Author: Saru Wolfe PM
A MarySue and a reluctant, sarcastic selfinsert are put into the same story. What happens when they go after the same man? Chaos... and hilarity. Can they ever be friends? I think not. And I'm the Author.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Adventure - James N. - Chapters: 7 - Words: 9,152 - Reviews: 39 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 17 - Updated: 06-19-08 - Published: 06-16-07 - id: 3597211
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Note: This is in no way to be taken seriously. I'm just having a little fun. This prologue is mainly to set the stage; the good stuff comes later. Yes, it is a prologue. That's why it's so short.
Disclaimer: If I owned Pirates... Elizabeth would have died, Norrington wouldn't, and Davy and Calypso would have had a happy ending. As it is, I'm stuck with writing fanfiction. Isn't life funny?
I awoke slowly.
The first thing I noticed was a slight balmy smell. It was pleasant. Then there was the sound of ocean waves. There was probably a rocky shore nearby. The sound almost lulled me back to sleep, but curiosity nagged at me from the back of my mind. I forced my eyed open. Light – too bright! I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Ouch," I said intelligently.
I heard a loud squeal from my right. "You're awake!"
"I'm glad you noticed." I shaded my eyes this time and sat up. I was in a bed, which was in a room – a small, wooden room. There was an open window just to my left, thus explaining the brightness. There was a young woman about my age sitting in a chair on my right.
I was deciding on which question to ask first when she went ahead and told me everything. "I found you yesterday on the beach. You had washed up on shore. Of course, I took you to the closest inn and cared for your injuries tirelessly throughout the night." She paused. "You're in Tortuga, by the way. My name is Cerilea."
Cerilea waited patiently while I stared. I had just woken up; it was too early for this. After a while, I licked my lips and said, "Hi… Cerilea. I'm Jill."
Cerilea grinned. "Ooh! Is that spelled with a 'y' and only one 'l'?"
Cerilea looked disappointed. "Well, my full name is Cerilea Pearl Shauna Eve Turner, but you can just call me Cerilea."
"I'll do that," I said slowly. I looked this girl up and down. Was she serious? She certainly looked the part. She was petite, but curvaceous. Her long, wavy, raven hair positively glimmered in the sunlight. Her eyes were oddly pale sea foam green. Suddenly, somewhere in my sleepy brain, something clicked. "Wait. We're in Tortuga?" She nodded. Great – there was only one place I had heard of Tortuga from. "And your last name is Turner?" Again, she nodded.
I got a very foreboding feeling about the whole situation. "We're in Tortuga as in the pirate port of pandemonium?" (The English language entertains me.)
"Yes. This place is horrible."
"Then why are you here?"
"Two years ago, I ran away from my horribly abusive adoptive parents in England in search of my older brother Will, stowing away on a ship, but he wasn't at Port Royal, so I had to sign myself onto a merchant ship's crew to roam the Caribbean, hoping for a clue as to where Will was, but then just as I felt I was getting close, we shipwrecked off the shore of Tortuga and I was the only survivor; I just barely managed to make it to shore, but this place is horrible and now I'd do almost anything to get out of here," she gushed.
I had the overwhelming urge to write down that obnoxious sentence and brutally edit it, but there were more important matters to attend to. I got up.
"There's a bathroom over there where you can clean up," she said helpfully.
"Thanks." I went over to the water basin and splashed my face. I peered into the mirror above it. I had short, reddish-brown hair and bushy eyebrows of the same color. My eyes were hazel (a good word for not knowing exactly what color your eyes are). I frowned and wrinkled my freckled nose.
Something about this was bothering me. I was in the Pirates of the Caribbean world, obviously. I wasn't stunningly gorgeous. And I knew all about the story. It hit me.
"Oh, no," I moaned. I put my hands to my face. "I'm a freaking self-insert!" I looked upward. Someone was about to know that I was seriously ticked off. "Why me?" I screamed at the ceiling. "Take me back! I don't deserve this!" Even though I knew it was in my mind, I thought I could hear the Author laughing cruelly at me from the other side of the screen.
Just as I side note, the self-insert does not, in fact, look like me. You'll see the point of this later.