t*sniffs* This, folks is it. The ending of a good thing. *sniffs* It was good while it lasted....*cries*
This is so sad!
So remember to review on what you think I should work on next: short after stories to this one; CS sequel with LotR; "serious" HP stuff; or serious Matrix. Tell me what you think!
Brem Nakada: Because Jack's like that. He would break the internet just when I needed it, if he thought it'd make me pay attention to him instead....:) What happens Next stories, and then Matrix? Wow...my first vote for Matrix! I'm impressed! And I'm glad you liked the story that much....it caused trears? Wow....
Lyssa2: Mary Sue can't even get that good of a kiss?! Wowsers...I have outdone Mary Sue at something?! Wow.... hey, I manage pretty well to keep this on my mind all day....;) Sequels? Whoot!
BeautyDark: You know I'm not perfect, sheesh..... and LotR? With a loopy girl? Mwa ha! And really, I am touched, so chasing mail trucks should be NO problem!
Kay - cocacat15: Aww...thanks! And I agree - I don't usually read that kind of story either, and I certainly never expected to get this many reviewers! Thanks! And as for the song....it does bloody fit! It's perfect! *sets computer to repeat*
AleniaOceanstar: Oh...but I like seeing my name in the story.....and 'sides, you have your halfling, I have my pirate! It's even-stevens!
Valor: I can see that point - option one or two are slightly less...painful?
Saiyan-girl-cheetah: LotR? And actually, I'm considering there being no Christine in that one....just my roommate, Ramya! :) Although I could stick Christine in there too.....mm...dilemmas. And I dunno about any reincarnations of Jack....we may have to wait for the second movie for more Jack, unless I do those little "what happens next" stories. Meh....glad you liked! And you are smart!!! LotR? With bird man? Mwa ha!!!
Lilrujan: *huggles* I love you guys....I love the piccie....I love your reviews! I love you!!! (And I love Jack, but that's besides the point!) I'm so glad you liked!
Maat: Aww...don't cry! Just cause this story's over doesn't mean I'm gonna quit....
Sugaricing: Meep........ writing! Writing! No hunting down! *hides under desk* And I know this story was kinda one-sided.....should I write the "after-stories" there's lots of Christine goodness!
Firedragonfly: Aww...was it that predictable? *sigh* I'll work on that.....and yeah, that's true, she didn't jump! Mwa ha!
Well....no more chapters.....*sniff*....but you can keep on reviewing! And keep on reading my other stuff...I'll make some more stories, and you can keep reviewing! I'll love you forever!
Well, after 25 chapters and a whole heck of a lot of reviews, I still don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. Disney, in their infinite wealth, still own it. I hope though, that they can find it in their hearts to not sue me. It'd be a waste of time, anyway. I have nothing. Except Heather. But I don't think they want her. Oh, and Parsons. Yes, ladies, the boy is my property. And yes, he really does look that good. They can have him though, if they offer enough. ;D
The heavy, leather-bound cover of the book closed, a scarred hand tracing the designs on the front. It's writer sighed, and set down her fountain pen, capping the inkwell. For a long moment, she just stared at the book, then pushed it away, standing.
"All done?" A soft voice said in her ear, but she didn't even jump, despite the other's stealthy approach. Instead, she smiled, reaching her hands back to hold those resting on her shoulders.
The person behind her wrapped his arms around her, grinning mischievously. "Does this mean I can read it now?"
"Jack," she sighed, craning her neck so she could see his face. "You know you can't read it."
"And why not? I'll have you know that I can read," he grinned, leaning forward to nibble on her earlobe.
She laughed, reaching her hand up to touch his cheek. "Well, I certainly didn't spend all that time teaching you so you'd forget it."
"Then what are you going to do with it?" He asked, mouth now grazing her jaw.
"Put it in a box, and bury it." She answered, laughing again as his kisses still made her squirm. "Jack!"
"Hmm?" He smiled, kissing along her cheek line. She turned her head away, but unfazed, he began kissing the spot where her neck met her shoulder instead.
"Jack," she sighed, though she really didn't seem to mind. "Do you have something I could put it in?"
Jack sighed, and stepped back, shaking his head a little, but still smiling. "You really know how to ruin a mood, you know that?" Smirking, he headed over to the bed in the center of the room, dropping to his knees. Bending over to reach under the bed, he sat up a few moments later, holding a small, dark wood chest in his hands. Standing, he set it on the bed, and she picked up the book.
Opening the lid, he reached his hand out for the book, which he took, and set inside. It fit perfectly, with no real room to spare. She pulled the book back out, removed something from the pocket of her vest, and dropped it in. Setting the book back on top, she closed the lid, and Jack locked it. "See? I found this box awhile back, on that nice little Spanish vessel from, what, 3 years ago?" He picked the box up, turning it over, then setting it on the floor, before sitting on the bed. "Thought it was the perfect size for that book of yours, whatever you decided to do with it." He glanced away from her, then towards the bed, then back to her, patting the mattress beside him.
She laughed, but didn't sit. Instead, she leaned over to kiss him on the end of the nose, then said, "We need to go to the Americas, Jack. Florida."
Jack lifted an eyebrow. "The Americas, luv? That's a bit out of our territory."
She gave him a pleading, puppy dog look. "Please?"
"Oh, don't do that, you know I can never resist that!"
"Precisely," she grinned, then sat on his lap, leaning forward. "Pretty, pretty please? I promise I'll be good..."
"Oh, will you now?" He grinned, leaning forward so that their faces were less than an inch apart. "Really, really good?"
"As good as a pirate queen can be," she smirked, moving in to kiss him when the door to their room crashed open.
Letting out a yelp of surprise, she fell back, tumbling off Jack's lap and landing in an unceremonious pile on the floor. Jack leapt to his feet, flushing a little. "Yes?"
A very short person ran into the room, jumping onto the woman on the floor with a giggle. As she let out a gasp of lost breath, she reached up, wrapping her arms around her attacker. "Hey, you little monster! I thought you were helping AnaMaria?"
The "attacker", an eight year old boy, wrinkled his nose. "That's boring. I already know how to tie a knot."
"Well, do ye now," Jack laughed, reaching down to grab the boy around his middle, and swinging him up into the air. The boy giggled, and as Jack dropped him to sit on his hip, he wrapped his arms around the pirate's neck. "But do you know proper pirate knots, ya whelp?"
She pulled herself to her feet, and ruffled the boy's blonde hair. He laughed, ducking his head under Jack's chin, hiding behind the captain's long hair. "Course I do! I've known since forever!"
"Well, good job then," Jack grinned, reaching up to tickle under the boy's chin. "Wouldn't do any good for a pirate to not know his knots!"
"And you wouldn't want to shame your father, now, would you, Will?" She grinned, leaning down to look into the boys eyes. "Because the most notorious pirate of the seven seas would be mighty shamed if his only son didn't know how to tie a knot!"
Will stuck out his tongue, which earned him a severe tickling from his father. "Now, boy," he lectured, trying to keep a straight face as the boy giggled. "Ye never, never insult a lady's honor, right?"
"She's not a lady," Will protested, giggling. "She's mommy!"
"Ye got that right, ye whelp," she laughed, reaching to take her son from her husband's arms. "And I'm the pirate queen, and don't ye ever forget that!" She rubbed her nose into her sons, laughing at his sparkling black eyes so much like his fathers. "But aren't you supposed to be practicing with Red now, young man?"
"Yeah," he wrinkled his freckled nose, and wriggled out of her arms. "But how come I gotta practice so much?"
Jack reached out to ruffle his son's hair. "You practice with the sword three hours a day, so that when you meet a red-coat, you can kill it."
Will frowned, but did as he was told, and raced out, calling for the young, flame-haired pirate, who stopped polishing his blade immediately to turn to his task of training the boy to use a sword.
"I suppose we'd best tell them we're headed to the Americas, then," Jack sighed, and looped his arm through his wife's. Arm in arm, they headed onto the deck, waving to the first mate, who waved back, from the quarter deck. They crossed the deck quickly, boots clicking on the wooden deck, and mounting the steps to the raised platform.
The first mate leaned against the wheel, and grinned. "So the captain and his wench emerge back into the land of the living."
Jack laughed. "AnaMaria, you don't ever change, do you?"
The woman grinned, glancing at her fellow female pirate, who grinned back. "You wouldn't have it any other way, captain."
"She's the only thing that keeps you honest, captain," the woman on his arm grinned, and he laughed.
"Honest? Oh no, luv, I'm quite dishonest, I assure you."
She grinned, and pointed out, "At least you haven't 'borrowed' any ships lately, luv."
He laughed, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on her lips. Turning back to his first mate, he told her, "We have a slight change in course. We're heading for the Americas. Florida."
AnaMaria raised an eyebrow. "I assume, captain, that there's a good reason?"
"What, you mean besides snatching us a few fine supply ships?" He grinned. "Of course. We have something to...ah, deliver."
"Right," AnaMaria grinned, shaking her head. "Well, it's a good thing I have a compass that actually works, Captain. Now get. You two are as bad as newlyweds."
Jack grinned. "That, luv, was a compliment."
"Go!" AnaMaria laughed, and they did, laughing.
Arriving back in their cabin, Jack picked the box off the floor, setting it on the desk, turning as he heard the strangest noise from the door. Turning, he saw her step back, crossing her arms, pleased. A sword stuck out of the door, firmly wedged in the lock.
"What-?" he began, laughing, but she just turned away, draping her arms around his neck.
"The blacksmith taught me how to do that, last time we set shore. Ain't no way anyone's getting in here." she grinned, playing his a lock of his hair. "Now, where were we?"
Jack laughed, kissing her lightly. "You are as bad as a newly-wed."
"Naw." She kissed him, pulling back to whisper, "Now I know what I'm doing."
The heavy shovel broke through the dirt, twisting, coming up with a full bucket of fresh black earth. The shovel and it's broad arm swung around, depositing the soil into the waiting bucket on the back of the truck. Swinging back into the hole, the shovel dug again, then a sharp clang rang through the air, and the operator stopped.
"Damn, rock," the foreman groaned, then waved to one of the men working on the concrete laying a few yards away. "Roberts! Grab a shovel, we've got us a rock!"
Roberts said something to one of the men around him, who moved to take his place holding the end of the concrete chute, and jogged over, pausing only to bend and grab a shovel. "So where's this rock?"
"Right there," the foreman pointed into the hole, and the spot where the shovel had stopped. Roberts nodded, and jumped down into the hole, striking at the area around the stone with his shovel. After only a few minutes of digging, he paused, leaning in to look at the place he'd been digging, then called up to the foreman.
"Hey, boss! There's something under this rock!"
Shaking his head, the foreman climbed down into the hole, looking at what Roberts had dug up. "What the heck is that?"
Roberts jabbed at the stone, and the rock suddenly shifted, slipping out of the dirt, tumbling past them, and onto the bottom of the hole. But they ignored it, staring instead at what its movement had revealed.
Two rusted, decaying swords lay crossed, over the corner of a small wooden chest. A few more careful shovelfuls of dirt, and Roberts was able to lean over and remove the cutlasses, then the chest, which creaked, as though it was rotten, but the lock held tight against his fingers. "What d'ya suppose it is?" He asked, examining the lock with interest, while the foreman turned one of the swords over in his hands.
"I dunno. But we'll need to get it to the land owners. It's their problem."
"What if it's treasure, or something?" Roberts asked, looking up eagerly at his boss.
The foreman rolled his eyes. "There weren't any pirate caches in Florida, Roberts. Go find yourself a little island, and then you'll find some treasure. This'll be some wise guy's idea of a joke. C'mon, lets get these up to the boss. Then he can see what kind of junk he's got."
Devon Anderson hovered on the other side of his boss' desk, as the man examined the lock on the front of the box. "What do you suppose it is?" Devon asked eagerly, notepad and pen ready at a moment's notice to begin to take notes. "Treasure, maybe?"
His boss looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Not likely. Now hand me that letter opener, will you?"
Devon snatched it up from where it sat by his hand, and leaned across the desk to lay it in his boss' grip. Nodding his thanks, the man then examined the lock for another moment, before using the tip of the letter opener to flake the dirt out of the opening. Deciding enough was cleared out, he stuck it in, turning carefully, until he heard a small click.
Devon bounced in place, far more excited to see what was inside, so when the other flipped the lid open to reveal what was inside, he let out a disappointed sigh. "Aww...it's just a book."
Waving away the dust and musty smell of something that has been denied air for hundreds of years, the man reached into the box, removing the book. Setting it carefully on the desk, he cracked the cover open. It creaked like it was going to break, but it didn't, merely falling open so they could see the untidy scrawl across the yellowed pages, in paled black ink.
Devon lowered himself into the desk on the other side of his boss' desk as his superior touched his finger to the page, and began to read aloud.
As near as I can figure, this is the year 1743. My sense of time has been skewed somewhat, and there has never been a real need, in these last twenty years, to pay any attention to what exact date it is.
But in the future, dates and times will be important. And this is why I am writing this. So that as time goes on, I will not be forgotten. And time will not forget this story.
On July 9th, 2003, the Disney corporation is going to release a movie, Pirates of the Caribbean, starring Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Kiera Knightly, and Geoffrey Rush. The movie is going to be a blockbuster, a sequel already in the works.
I know you won't believe me. That is why I have included three pages after this page and before I begin the actual story, for you to carbon date, or however you intend to test the age of this paper. I can assure you, it is as old as I claim.
There is no simple way of telling this story. The most simplistic answer is to say that I traveled through time, and wrote this story so that what happened to me would not be forgotten. The more complex, and slightly more believable, version is within the pages of this book. All I ask is that you read this, open minded.
Don't bother to check history books for mention of me, or Jack Sparrow, or Will Turner, or any of the others mentioned within these pages. I doubt you'll find them. I don't think we exist in the schema of history, for all our collective contributions to it. This doesn't bother so much as the simple fact that I'm going to be forgotten. All I ask is that, somehow, you remember me - nothing fancy. I just don't want to be forgotten.
Turning the page, he found the promised three blank pages, then, from the top of the next page following, he read, "I wish I could tell you how it happened."
As his boss sat back, frowning, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Devon wrinkled his nose, scowling. "That's ridiculous. I mean, really. What kind of idiots does this 'Heather Morgan' take us for?"
"Smart ones," his boss said slowly, reaching into the box again. From inside, he removed a small, plastic photo pouch, removing from it a frail slip of paper, and a quarter.
"There, see that?" Devon demanded, pointing at the two items laying on the desk. "Modern! No way we're dumb enough to believe that!"
His boss handed him the quarter, eyes dark and thoughtful. "Look at the quarter, Anderson."
Devon did so, then shrugged. "It's a Canadian quarter. So?"
"Look at the date."
Devon blinked, then searched on the silver surface for a date. There, beside the caribou's antlers, to the right. His eyes widened, then looked up in disbelief. "That's not possible!"
"2002." His boss said calmly, holding his hand out for the quarter. "How did a quarter, not to be minted for two years, get in a box, buried in the ground? In a box, buried in the 1700s?"
"It...it's a fluke. A joke," Devon stressed, deciding that he liked that explanation. "A stupid joke."
"Mmm." His boss picked up the small slip of paper, and stared at it for a long moment, before asking, "Tell me, Anderson, what does this look like?"
Devon leaned forward, squinting his eyes to read the slip of paper. "Umm...a movie theater ticket stub."
"Right. And the date?"
"And what movie?"
Devon swallowed, then whispered, "Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl."
His boss nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Interesting. A fake, Anderson?"
Devon licked his lips. "Umm...well..."
The other ignored his attempts to invent an answer. Instead, he turned to the book, returning to reading the scrawled words, now silently.
After about a half hour, Devon stood, intending to leave, when, not looking up, his boss said, "Before you go, Anderson, call Jeff for me, will you?"
Devon blinked. "The...screenwriter?"
"Right." His superior looked up then, a grin playing on his lips. "We only have three years, Anderson, to get this movie filmed. We'd best start now."
Whee! And the story ENDS!!!!
Boo...so it was a dumb ending. I liked it. :P