Pirates of the Caribbean fan fiction- Salt
Title: Salt
Author: ameyao_roinyi
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack Sparrow
Word Count: 1615
Warnings: Spoilers for DMC
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Disney owns all. Life is cruel.
Summary: Hell is relative.
******
It was so cold. One moment there had been teeth ripping and the roar of the beast; but now it was silent and cold. What had happened to the in-between moments? It was too jarring, going from terror to peace. He found it unsettling.
So cold. He tried to open his eyes and his eyelids felt heavy, his was vision blurry. It was dim and murky; barely enough light to discern his surroundings. Shapes in the distance and then right beside him as his vision cleared, adjusting to the pale light. He opened his mouth to speak and tasted salt.
The ocean.
The realization shocked him and sent him into a panic. He was under water, he would surely drown.
Limbs flailing, he struggled to bring himself to the surface, but his feet were stuck. They were trapped in the wreckage of his ship, no doubt.
Death.
It was a frenzied thought in a frenzied mind. To die at sea after all he'd been through these last few weeks. What an irony.
He fought to free his legs, but he was stuck tight. No longer able to hold his breath he relented with a heavy heart and let go, taking in a large lungful of sea water.
It was so very cold.
And yet, dying took much longer than it should have.
Thoughts fluttered around his brain like wounded butterflies. How to explain such a thing? He should be dying.
Dying.
Death.
Dead.
That's what it was. He was already dead.
All movement stopped and he rested perfectly still. He had squeezed his eyes shut during his realization and after a few seconds to calm himself down, he slowly opened them again.
It was not as dark as before. His vision cleared, revealing to him more of the strange landscape. He once again made out the shapes that were around him. They were man shaped and spread out across the ocean floor, their feet planted in the sandy bottom. Perhaps it was the same with him, so he began to glance down.
"Don't look down!"
A wispy strangled voice croaked behind him and he turned as best he could with his feet stuck in the sand.
"It's best not to look." Another voice
"It's better to heed wise advice." Another.
"Don't look!" And Another.
They were all around him, men he did not notice before. How could he have overlooked them when their visages were pure horror?
Men, no not men, but corpses. All around him rotting corpses in various states of decay. The three in front of him were nearly all bone, a few thin pieces of flesh still stuck in the joint areas and they were adorned with a few scraps of clothing. He felt dizzy with terror when one of the creatures turned to face him, its empty bones swaying in the current and its skull rolling slowly about on its neck. It was staring at him he knew it; he could see hellfire blazing in the black sockets.
"What's going on?"
He was surprised that his voice traveled under water. He was just as surprised that his voice was steady.
He felt a pressure on his left shoulder and turned to see that another of the creatures had laid a hand upon him. This one was not like the others, it had flesh, bloated and pock marked as it was, although there were parts of it's body that white was starting to show though on. But still, no eyes.
"Calm down now there Jack, you're among friends. We're all damned down here."
It tried to smile, the water logged flesh tearing along the cheek bones. Jack felt less than reassured.
"Am I dead?" He asked, not really expecting a response.
"Of course you are." the bloated one responded.
"If I'm dead, than how is it that I can still feel my body?"
A relevant question to be sure, for he could feel it, he could feel the intense cold and he could feel the water rattling around inside his lungs. He could still taste and see and hear. He could even feel the soft brushes against the bottom of his feet...
"Don't look down!"
the shout brought his attention back to the others. Had he been looking down? He couldn't really tell; everything seemed like a dream all of a sudden.
"Yes, you're dead. You're in Davy Jones's Locker you are; that's why you can still feel your body, it's your punishment. To stay at the bottom of the sea for all eternity, your soul never finding peace."
This had come from the right of him; Jack glanced around to see nothing but a bare skeleton, no skin, no clothes, hardly there at all really, for it seemed as if parts of it had just wasted away. It was missing a whole arm and a few fingers off the other. The jaw bone on it was moving slightly, trying to imitate the motions of speech.
He almost felt pity for it.
"That's not much of a punishment now is it? I'm practically alive, if I could get my feet loose than I bet I could be up top enjoying some local spirits and fine company in no time. And I'd have me self a very handy new talent for breathing underwater. Indispensable for a sailor that is."
He grinned cockily and felt more himself. Unfortunately though, the others didn't seem to get the joke. Mirthless bastards.
"After you spend a while down here with us, decaying and getting nibbled on by fish, I think you'll change your mind. There is no escape and the punishment is the pain you’re going to be feeling any moment now. Death is rough on the body."
The puffy one again, Jack spared a moment to glare at it. And true to word he soon felt a sharp pain in his hand. Much to his disgust upon looking down he saw that a fish, nasty little thing with sharp teeth, had taken a bite out of the flesh atop his hand and it was coming back for more.
"What the hell!"
The creatures all snickered a bit, enjoying the confidant captains rude awaking.
"You better get used to it; there will be a lot more where that came from."
He didn't bother to pay attention to which one spoke that time; his attention had been diverted to his arms and chest. There were long thick gashes on his body, the skin raw and ragged along the meaty insides of the wounds. But the flesh was colorless, having already bled itself out. The Kraken was responsible for this; all those rows of razor sharp teeth must have torn him to bits on the way down to its stomach. Such a small thing he was in comparison to it, he thought he would have come out intact. The wounds were numb, but as he stared at them and remembered the Kraken, they begun to throb. Soon his body was filled with intense pain, the ripped flesh searing like fire.
Also, the fish was back, nibbling away.
"How do I stop this agony!?"
The creatures were silent this time, the bloated one avoiding his desperate gaze.
"You don't" it whispered and turned away.
Jack had never felt such pain before, in life he had always gotten himself drunk whenever any discomfort reared its ugly head. But that was not an option now. An eternity of this, he would go mad for sure!
"Are you hungry son? There is naught here to eat but sand. Are you thirsty? There is naught here to drink but salt. Are you tired? There is naught here but weariness. Are you in pain child? There is naught here but suffering. You will never rest, for all the ages of the earth you'll be here with us, the forgotten we are, cast aside by a cruel master. Learn to let the cold in, it helps numb the mind. And remember, no matter what madness may seize you. Don't. Look. Down."
Jack managed to listen that time; it was the old wise man who had spoken the words. Man, he had thought of the creature as a man, no different than he. It hadn't taken long at all to become one of them in the end.
As a new wave of pain wrecked his body he felt himself sway back and forth in the underwater breezes as some animal crawled its way up his pant leg.
Somehow, he had never thought Hell could be this bad.
It all felt so very pathetic, him going like this. In life he had been practically fearless and now here he was, taking his "punishment" from Davy Jones, head down like an errant school boy.
Pathetic.
No! He was going to get out of this, he was going to pull his feet free and swim back up to the surface. There was still perhaps a deal to be made.
Mind made up, he bent down and grasped his ankles, readying himself to pull. The others had told him not to look down, but Jack Sparrow had never been the type to take heed to caution, in life or in death. So he looked.
Nothing happened.
Smirking in assumed triumph he pulled his feet as hard as he could. But they wouldn't budge. He tried several times to no avail.
"Just what the hell is holding me down?" he asked in irritation.
So brushing aside the sand that covered his feet Jack saw as if through a pane of glass all the demons of Hell beneath him. With several holding him down by the feet.
"Ah, so that's what it is."
***end***
Author: ameyao_roinyi
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack Sparrow
Word Count: 1615
Warnings: Spoilers for DMC
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Disney owns all. Life is cruel.
Summary: Hell is relative.
******
It was so cold. One moment there had been teeth ripping and the roar of the beast; but now it was silent and cold. What had happened to the in-between moments? It was too jarring, going from terror to peace. He found it unsettling.
So cold. He tried to open his eyes and his eyelids felt heavy, his was vision blurry. It was dim and murky; barely enough light to discern his surroundings. Shapes in the distance and then right beside him as his vision cleared, adjusting to the pale light. He opened his mouth to speak and tasted salt.
The ocean.
The realization shocked him and sent him into a panic. He was under water, he would surely drown.
Limbs flailing, he struggled to bring himself to the surface, but his feet were stuck. They were trapped in the wreckage of his ship, no doubt.
Death.
It was a frenzied thought in a frenzied mind. To die at sea after all he'd been through these last few weeks. What an irony.
He fought to free his legs, but he was stuck tight. No longer able to hold his breath he relented with a heavy heart and let go, taking in a large lungful of sea water.
It was so very cold.
And yet, dying took much longer than it should have.
Thoughts fluttered around his brain like wounded butterflies. How to explain such a thing? He should be dying.
Dying.
Death.
Dead.
That's what it was. He was already dead.
All movement stopped and he rested perfectly still. He had squeezed his eyes shut during his realization and after a few seconds to calm himself down, he slowly opened them again.
It was not as dark as before. His vision cleared, revealing to him more of the strange landscape. He once again made out the shapes that were around him. They were man shaped and spread out across the ocean floor, their feet planted in the sandy bottom. Perhaps it was the same with him, so he began to glance down.
"Don't look down!"
A wispy strangled voice croaked behind him and he turned as best he could with his feet stuck in the sand.
"It's best not to look." Another voice
"It's better to heed wise advice." Another.
"Don't look!" And Another.
They were all around him, men he did not notice before. How could he have overlooked them when their visages were pure horror?
Men, no not men, but corpses. All around him rotting corpses in various states of decay. The three in front of him were nearly all bone, a few thin pieces of flesh still stuck in the joint areas and they were adorned with a few scraps of clothing. He felt dizzy with terror when one of the creatures turned to face him, its empty bones swaying in the current and its skull rolling slowly about on its neck. It was staring at him he knew it; he could see hellfire blazing in the black sockets.
"What's going on?"
He was surprised that his voice traveled under water. He was just as surprised that his voice was steady.
He felt a pressure on his left shoulder and turned to see that another of the creatures had laid a hand upon him. This one was not like the others, it had flesh, bloated and pock marked as it was, although there were parts of it's body that white was starting to show though on. But still, no eyes.
"Calm down now there Jack, you're among friends. We're all damned down here."
It tried to smile, the water logged flesh tearing along the cheek bones. Jack felt less than reassured.
"Am I dead?" He asked, not really expecting a response.
"Of course you are." the bloated one responded.
"If I'm dead, than how is it that I can still feel my body?"
A relevant question to be sure, for he could feel it, he could feel the intense cold and he could feel the water rattling around inside his lungs. He could still taste and see and hear. He could even feel the soft brushes against the bottom of his feet...
"Don't look down!"
the shout brought his attention back to the others. Had he been looking down? He couldn't really tell; everything seemed like a dream all of a sudden.
"Yes, you're dead. You're in Davy Jones's Locker you are; that's why you can still feel your body, it's your punishment. To stay at the bottom of the sea for all eternity, your soul never finding peace."
This had come from the right of him; Jack glanced around to see nothing but a bare skeleton, no skin, no clothes, hardly there at all really, for it seemed as if parts of it had just wasted away. It was missing a whole arm and a few fingers off the other. The jaw bone on it was moving slightly, trying to imitate the motions of speech.
He almost felt pity for it.
"That's not much of a punishment now is it? I'm practically alive, if I could get my feet loose than I bet I could be up top enjoying some local spirits and fine company in no time. And I'd have me self a very handy new talent for breathing underwater. Indispensable for a sailor that is."
He grinned cockily and felt more himself. Unfortunately though, the others didn't seem to get the joke. Mirthless bastards.
"After you spend a while down here with us, decaying and getting nibbled on by fish, I think you'll change your mind. There is no escape and the punishment is the pain you’re going to be feeling any moment now. Death is rough on the body."
The puffy one again, Jack spared a moment to glare at it. And true to word he soon felt a sharp pain in his hand. Much to his disgust upon looking down he saw that a fish, nasty little thing with sharp teeth, had taken a bite out of the flesh atop his hand and it was coming back for more.
"What the hell!"
The creatures all snickered a bit, enjoying the confidant captains rude awaking.
"You better get used to it; there will be a lot more where that came from."
He didn't bother to pay attention to which one spoke that time; his attention had been diverted to his arms and chest. There were long thick gashes on his body, the skin raw and ragged along the meaty insides of the wounds. But the flesh was colorless, having already bled itself out. The Kraken was responsible for this; all those rows of razor sharp teeth must have torn him to bits on the way down to its stomach. Such a small thing he was in comparison to it, he thought he would have come out intact. The wounds were numb, but as he stared at them and remembered the Kraken, they begun to throb. Soon his body was filled with intense pain, the ripped flesh searing like fire.
Also, the fish was back, nibbling away.
"How do I stop this agony!?"
The creatures were silent this time, the bloated one avoiding his desperate gaze.
"You don't" it whispered and turned away.
Jack had never felt such pain before, in life he had always gotten himself drunk whenever any discomfort reared its ugly head. But that was not an option now. An eternity of this, he would go mad for sure!
"Are you hungry son? There is naught here to eat but sand. Are you thirsty? There is naught here to drink but salt. Are you tired? There is naught here but weariness. Are you in pain child? There is naught here but suffering. You will never rest, for all the ages of the earth you'll be here with us, the forgotten we are, cast aside by a cruel master. Learn to let the cold in, it helps numb the mind. And remember, no matter what madness may seize you. Don't. Look. Down."
Jack managed to listen that time; it was the old wise man who had spoken the words. Man, he had thought of the creature as a man, no different than he. It hadn't taken long at all to become one of them in the end.
As a new wave of pain wrecked his body he felt himself sway back and forth in the underwater breezes as some animal crawled its way up his pant leg.
Somehow, he had never thought Hell could be this bad.
It all felt so very pathetic, him going like this. In life he had been practically fearless and now here he was, taking his "punishment" from Davy Jones, head down like an errant school boy.
Pathetic.
No! He was going to get out of this, he was going to pull his feet free and swim back up to the surface. There was still perhaps a deal to be made.
Mind made up, he bent down and grasped his ankles, readying himself to pull. The others had told him not to look down, but Jack Sparrow had never been the type to take heed to caution, in life or in death. So he looked.
Nothing happened.
Smirking in assumed triumph he pulled his feet as hard as he could. But they wouldn't budge. He tried several times to no avail.
"Just what the hell is holding me down?" he asked in irritation.
So brushing aside the sand that covered his feet Jack saw as if through a pane of glass all the demons of Hell beneath him. With several holding him down by the feet.
"Ah, so that's what it is."
***end***