Prologue Dear Diary, Everything seems like such a dream now. I remember sitting at the window seat of my bedroom, embroidering, staring out at the open sea as the sun slowly waved goodbye. I remember Mother hitting my knuckles with her sewing ruler when she came in and saw my longing for the outside. I remember that the next time I looked outside there was a pirate ship with sails like the gold and orange sunset, bright against the now darkened sky. I remember pressing my face against the window glass in fascination, wondering if I had fallen asleep. I remember when it disappeared without a trace. Then, I remember seeing men with swords coming towards the manor. The next thing I remember is throwing open my bedroom window like a fool and jumping only a few feet down into Roberta’s perfect roses, ruining my snow-white dress. I remember grappling to my feet and running towards the men, calling out wildly for them to stop and wait. I remember them lunging forward in surprise, and I remember screaming and falling backward. I remember them taking hold of me and putting rough hands over my mouth, hissing to shut up. I remember sobbing as they bound my hands and shoved me back towards their ship, which was hidden behind the long boughs of the oak forest. I remember pleading with them to leave the manor undisturbed, and that I would do anything they needed me to as they tied me on deck. I remember looking them all in the face, though I could scarcely see, and I remember one softening. I remember that one telling the others that they should leave the house alone, if I could pay the price. I remember crying as they bargained, and I remember the kind one telling me in a surprisingly gentle voice that I was coming with them. I remember nodding but still crying, and I remember the kind one untying me. Now that I sit in the lower deck room amongst many treasures, I feel like nothing but a prize myself. They have not bound me, nor have they hurt me, but now that the ship begins to rock I know that it is moving, and I begin, yet again, to cry. I do not know what I have gotten myself into, and I am too scared for words. But at least the kind one, who I believe to be the captain, has spared me. I found this book in this room of treasures, though this does not seem like one. It is plain and brown and the pages are empty except for what I’ve written. I do wonder what they intend to use me for. Nadia White, April 10th Chapter One Ten Days Later I hear a knock on my door. “Yes?” I answer, rising to my feet eagerly. I haven’t left this accursed room all this time and I’ve had scarce to eat, and I fear I may go mad in soon time. “Are ye decent?” comes a growling type voice from outside. He sounds embarrassed to be asking such a question. I flush. “Yes, of course I am. I have no other clothes,” I say. The man walks in, and as the door opens I feel a rush of sea breeze and the smell of rum. He is big and strong looking, with only one eye and gray hair and an unshaven face. I could almost smile. He looks so like a pirate. In gloved hands he holds stained brown and green cloth. He tosses the cloth to me. I catch it with agility. He looks surprised. “Yeh’re to change to those,” he says, gesturing towards what I am unfolding. “When yeh’re done ye can come out. We’ll make ye useful, or as useful as we can,” he smiles nastily. “For a woman.” I glare at the back of his head as he turns to leave. I dislike that man. But, longing for the outside, I change into the clothes. They are scratchy and loose but I figure that I can deal with them. No worse than a corset, I muse with a slight smile. Mother would commit murder if she saw me right now. I step out of the tiny treasure room, but not before concealing the book I had written in under the brown vest I wear. A hard breeze meets me when I step outside. It tastes of salt and seaweed and makes me happy. I see men working all around the ship—one swabbing the deck, one on the top and two on bottom controlling the sails, and several others fishing and checking the food stores. None seem to notice my walking on the deck. I am not sure what kind of wood it is, but it is a beautiful reddish gold. Much of my longing for the manor is dissipating rapidly. I wander towards the three men who check the food stores, as I am quite starved. One of them is who I believe to be the kind one. I recognize him by long ebony hair and a plain silken head scarf tied around the top of his head. I smile. A pirate. As I quietly peek into the trap door I am scarce able to conceal my disgust. Pickles and oranges are all it holds, besides many giant containers of fresh water. I step back, but not before one of the men sees me. “Ah, there’s the lady!” shouts the one across from me. He is covered in filth and stinks of rum and old fish. His teeth are brown and multiple teeth are missing, and his eyes are bloodshot and mad. All of the men’s eyes turn my way when he calls it out. The kind one is the last to lift his head. He straightens, wipes his hands free of juice on his pants, and looks at me. I feel as though I am being scanned, judged, so I tilt my chin upwards and straighten myself up. I see him smile a bit when I do this. He steps forward with a golden hand extended. I shyly take it. He kisses my hand and steps back. “M’name’s Efram, and obviously ye may have met somma me crew,” he glares over at the man who shouted about me. “We welcome ye.” I flush slightly. I never knew pirates had manners. “Er….Thank you,” I say in a small voice. Although I do wonder about the welcome part, as I don’t see why someone would welcome a person they kidnapped. Efram smiles and nods, then calls out to the crew, “There’s nothing to see here, return to yer jobs!” and then enlists the other men to help him close the giant trap door. I stand and watch, unsure of what to do. As I twiddle my thumbs awkwardly, Efram finishes covering the food. “Come with me, Lady, I’ll introduce ye to the crew,” he says, and he gestures for me to follow him. After the tour, now lying on the blanket they have given me in the treasure room, I can scarce remember any of their names. I can recall Bone quite easily, as he is the man who gave me clothes this morning. I still dislike him. Then Wyclef, the one who shouted about me. I have now learned that he fell off the ship twenty years ago, and he bumped his head while going down. He’s never been the same. Oh, and I remember Abhearne. He’s a sweet young boy, looked to only be about twelve. He climbs well and therefore stands on the high part beside the sail. I cannot recall what that’s called. And of course I remember Efram. I remember his good manners and kind green eyes and sun browned skin, and long ebony hair. I miss my family, though not necessarily Mother, even though I am guilty to feel so. She never was right to me. These pirates seem well enough, and I feel very at home on the ship, but I know I should be at the manor. Shouldn’t I?
Comments
Cool....
I've only seen the first two POTC movies, so I can't really relate, but this was good...
You have to write more!!
Thanks! I love POTC :) I've
Thanks! I love POTC :) I've only seen the first, because I heard that the rest of them aren't any good. I am a pirate fan, however :D I'm glad y'all like it!
"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond
Intriguing...
If you've only seen the first potc movie, stick with that. The second two are a waste of time.
In regards to the story here, you have me intrigued - mostly because you don't see much written in second person/present tense. You're doing a good job with it so far, so I'm interested to see more!
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Brother: Your character should drive a motorcycle.
Me: He can't. He's in the wilderness.
Brother: Then make it a four-wheel-drive motorcycle!
I. LOVED. THIS. It was EPIC.
I. LOVED. THIS.
It was EPIC. And awesome. And DANG IT YOU HAD THE SAME IDEA!!!!! Lol....i just recently had an idea about pirates and basically you took it...except my story had the working title of Pirates Vs Vikings, because Vikings are crazy awesome and i wanted to see who would win, vikings or pirates, in an epic battle.
Anyway. I love it!
Mary: Ah. Sequels are rarely
Mary: Ah. Sequels are rarely as high quality as the first, as far as movies go. Why can't they get better, like books? I'm glad you like it :) I used to write in present tense often but haven't so much anymore, so I decided to give it a try again.
Clare: Oops, sorry ;) I'm glad you enjoyed though.
"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond
It sounds like a good story,
It sounds like a good story, but I can't figure out from what time the author/main character is writing. It sounds like she's writing from years in the future, except for lines like the last two.
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief
Thanks! She is writing from
Thanks! She is writing from the future (I will try to make that clearer in the next installment :-)
"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond
Cool! Reminds me of Pirates
Cool! Reminds me of Pirates of the Caribbean! Argh!