The Kiss

She was a crooked little thing. Completely hideous to look at, for she seemed to have no knowledge of maintaining her appearance. She was clad in a brown, shapeless bag of a dress, and her hair was clinging to her forehead and her cheeks, all grimed with dirt and salt water. She was as unbecoming as a woman could possibly be. Her face was an endless work of wrinkles, making her look like something of an ancient dog-woman hybrid, the tanned flesh literally cascading down from her cheeks to continue into something resembling a throat. It waddled when she moved, and would cause upset stomachs to even the most disciplined of men. She sat on a simple straw mat inside the oval cavern, her legs crossed in lotus position. She wore sandals made from sea weed attached through holes on a wooden sole made out of debris from the shores. Her toes had gnarly, yellow toe nails which was crumbling away with fungus, and the knuckle on her big toes was a wisp of long, indelicate black hairs which could be seen a mile away.
Something itched, and she absentmindedly scratched between her legs, not caring who saw her. From outside came the distant call of hungry sea gulls. Only then did she lift her chin to look up for a moment, before falling back into her seemingly lethargic state.
She waited. The preparations were all done. The circle was drawn, with all its necessary symbols. The incense was burning, the candles lit and the stone floor covered with delicate furs and blankets. There was fresh food and fruits in a basket at one corner of the carpet of furs, and clean jugs stood nearby, filled with scented wine, sparkling deep red from the sparkle of a thousand candles which had been placed around on natural stone shelves in the cave.
The demons had been sent outside, and she was left alone with the chosen ones. The magic was already at work in the air, and had manifested itself as blue smoke rising from unseen origins.
She didn’t say anything. She only waited patiently until her chosen ones awoke, remaining silent until she knew she had their full attention. They both looked at her with surprise and disgust as they woke. The younger pirate came around first, then the other who was fourteen years his senior. She paid no heed to their baffled expressions as they looked bewildered about in the cave, gazing at the display of candles, the fur and the food. She ignored the elder pirate mumbling about missing his rum.

The old hag suddenly chuckled, seeing the heaving, sun-tanned chest moving beneath the shirt of the young, squirming pirate. He kept struggling to get loose, kept trying to get her attention, and when she seemingly ignored him, he got madder, kicking to rid himself of the rope around his legs and ankles. He reminded her of a proud stallion in heat.

“Squirming abou’ isn’t goin’ to help us, lad. Ye’re actin’ like a cat caught in a bag – which kind of makes sense right now…” the elder said to himself in afterthought. “It would seem we’ve been invited to a little party, ey granny?” the elder pirate chuckled, attempting to win the old woman’s favour.

“She’s not moving. Maybe she’s dead?” the younger asked, turning his head as far around as he could, addressing the other pirate. They both turned their heads to watch her intently to see if she was indeed dead.
They’d been tied back against back with the same long rope, stretching from one iron ring which had been fastened to the stone floor at Jack Sparrow’s feet, across his legs, to his hands which had been tied behind his back to Will’s wrist. Then the rope went on around Will’s legs, around his ankles before it ended in a tight knot around an iron ring at his feet similar to the one Jack had. They were practically stuck in each other.

The old wrinkled hag suddenly opened her mouth and let out a sharp howl, raising her arms into the air. It startled them both, and they kept watching as she started chanting and speaking gibberish. They understood nothing but one word: Calypso. Just as Will was about to cut her off, she began to move, suddenly speaking in broken English: “Calypso, Goddess of the Sea, you have summoned me, your humble servant, and I am ready to serve, Oh mighty Calypso! Aye, I’ve brought them to ye just like ye said I should” she nodded heavily, her head swinging up and down so violently Jack thought it might fall off. Their reward, aye, for freein’ ye, we understand tha’ we do, my Queen. The beginnin’ of the end if they don’t, aye, we get tha’, my Queen, we do”.

“Do we? I certainly can’t remember bein’ part of any rewardin—“Jack objected, “—I mean I didn’t even get to be captain of the Fly—“

“—but their heads are full of strange ideas, my Queen, especially to the youngest one, my Queen. The white foreigners, aye, my Queen. He be needin’ salvation from himself, aye, my Queen” she kept on nodding, her wrinkled, leather like arms folded across her chest all the while her upper body kept rocking back and forth. “Christianity!” she suddenly snarled contemptuously, like she’d tasted something foul in her mouth, “The Bible” she articulated the words with sarcasm, still rocking back and forth, “One God!” she laughed eerily all the while both men got chills on their back. Then she calmed herself, frowning while she croaked “the beginning of the end”, eying them both, and clearly expecting comprehension and sympathy. The pirates remained staring at her in disbelief and bewilderment. What was she talking about?

The hag smiled at them. They both saw it, and both men froze in terror, thinking the same horrendous thing about her intentions. She, an elder woman sat there with two men in their prime as her prisoners. Will could only watch in growing fear as the hag rose to stand on crispy, twig-like legs, supporting herself on a gnarly cane. He had to look away as she once again got an itch where the light very seldom shines on a woman’s body. She’d been holding a small leather bag absentmindedly in her left palm. She now reached for it, opening the band of leather around the opening.

“Will?” Jack suddenly whispered, “we’re sittin’ in a witch circle! Don't let her touch ye!"