Time and Time Again
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
4,191
Reviews:
57
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
17
Views:
4,191
Reviews:
57
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 1 - Che Cave
Time and Time Again, by Hellborne (the_ferret_mom@yahoo.com)
Pirates of the Caribbean – PG-13
Copyright. Characters, not mine. See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.
Typing convention: / is used for thoughts. * - * - * is used for scene changes and passages of time.
Summary: It’s the year 2001. Will Turner, descendent of a particular blacksmith, has been left a journal and a scarf...leading him to a particular cave.
Beta: The great BetaGoddess Pendragginink. She’s fantastic! And way too modest for her own good!
NOTE: I live for reviews. No reviews, the muses go out gambling (we DO live in Las Vegas, after all) and I can’t get any writing done. Can’t figure out if anyone likes it if they don’t review. So REVIEW! PLEEEEEEZE???
* - * - * - * - * - * - * - *
Chapter 1 – The Cave
The splendor of the yacht still impressed him; he couldn’t believe he’d actually won the Powerball on his twenty-first birthday! He even forgave his father for losing the family fortune on a bad business deal when he was a baby. Will Turner studied the cave entrance as he looked again at all of the notes he’d made from the small parchment journal he’d found at the bottom of the chest of antiques he’d inherited as a small boy.
His father finally let Will open it three years before, on his eighteenth birthday, though the journal and an odd, dirty red cotton scarf were all that held his interest for any length of time. He didn’t know why, but he kept the scarf with him at all times, hiding it from curious eyes and the elements alike. The journal was plain brown, rather nondescript leather, six inches by eight inches and about two inches thick. Inside were drawings, maps, notes, and other scribblings of a long-dead ancestor that he’d been told was a blacksmith. From what he had read in that journal, however, he was sure that his ancestor was much, much more.
He looked at his notes again. He studied the drawing of the cave before him and nodded. /This has to be the place./ He dropped the anchor and lowered the little motorboat into the water.
* - * - *
Coins glinted off the beam of the flashlight as Will eased the motorboat into the small beach area of the cave. He couldn’t believe his luck; it didn’t appear to have been touched since his ancestor described it almost three hundred years before.
“August 6th, 1721. As the two small boats float through the darkness toward the treasure room, I cannot keep myself from admiring the way that the others can just ignore the coins that fairly line the small waterway; any handful of which could pay for food, lodging, and even entertainment for a year or more.”
He hopped out and dragged the boat up onto the beach, walking toward the interior, flashlight in hand. As he walked farther into the cave, he noticed beams of sunlight streaming down to bring his attention to various piles of treasure along the way. He turned into one of the many side rooms and started fumbling through the treasure there, his mind in a whirl at the sheer amount of treasure in just this small anteroom.
He stayed there for what felt like hours, and indeed, as he departed the small side cave, he saw that the shafts of golden sunlight had been replaced by the supernatural silver of the moon. As his flashlight began to dim, he hurriedly changed the batteries; not that he was superstitious or afraid of the dark, oh no...but some of the writings in the journal about this cave were eerie to say the least. He supposed that his namesake had been on drugs or something, but the earnestness and clarity of the writings belied that idea.
Once the flashlight shone nice and bright again, he proceeded into what he could only imagine was the main cave. But it was FAR different than the journal had described. He imagined that the volcanic region would have sent tremors through the area, settling the treasure. Where the journal had described heaps of gold so high it took effort to climb them, Will saw a field of gold coins and objects appearing to be the soil for two huge trees with a single skeleton lying next to them, its left hand absorbed by one of the trees as it had expanded through the years. He carefully made his way to the skeleton. Though the moonlight was fully lighting it despite the two trees, it was obvious that this skeleton was not animate like the ones in the journal. He shined the flashlight into the trees: apples.
He chuckled. “Ah, then this must have been the man referred to as ‘Barbossa’ in the journal.” He noticed that one of the trees had green apples; the other had golden yellow apples growing on it. Will looked between the trees and did see a single hill of gold with a stone chest atop it, fully in moonlight. As he reached the chest, he saw that it had been chained shut, the chains locking into manacles on another skeleton stretched out on the box on its back, then finally coming together locked around the blade of a sword that had been pushed through the side of the poor bastard’s head. This skeleton looked much fresher, complete with hair and clothes that had not crumbled into dust through time. It also appeared to have glass eyes, as Will couldn’t imagine them being real. Still...he had a spooky feeling that they were watching him. “Yeah, right. I’ve just been reading too much Stephen King.” He found an ancient leather tricorn hat lying next to the chest and picked it up, putting it on the skeleton’s head covering the eyes.
Will looked around for something to use to cut the chains; he found a key next to the chest. “A skeleton key. It figures.” He tried the key in the lock around the sword and it came free. He tried it in the manacles. /Don’t want to disturb the dead any more than I have to./ “I’ll be sure to bury you both when I’m done.” He took hold of the sword and tried to pry it out of the stone chest’s lid through the skull, but had no luck.
“Maybe with the right leverage...” He climbed onto the chest, making sure not to disturb the skeleton, braced his feet on the lid with his legs spread, and pulled at the sword. It started to come free of the stone lid, but the skull was coming up with it. Sighing, he put his foot on the skull, pushing it down against the lid, hoping he didn’t crush it with his foot. He pulled again, the sword coming free of the lid and the skull, toppling both Will and the sword backward, landing on his arse and rolling down the hill. It must have jerked the skeleton a different direction, for as he looked up at the chest, he no longer saw it.
Will climbed the hill of gold and looked around the chest; no skeleton. He assumed it rolled down the other way, and reached to open the lid.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
* - * - *
TBC
A/N: Hey, This was the very first fic idea I ever had, but it's been fleshing out since the original movie first came out...Tell me what you think of it. Hit the REVIEW button and let me know, ok?
Pirates of the Caribbean – PG-13
Copyright. Characters, not mine. See the Mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.
Typing convention: / is used for thoughts. * - * - * is used for scene changes and passages of time.
Summary: It’s the year 2001. Will Turner, descendent of a particular blacksmith, has been left a journal and a scarf...leading him to a particular cave.
Beta: The great BetaGoddess Pendragginink. She’s fantastic! And way too modest for her own good!
NOTE: I live for reviews. No reviews, the muses go out gambling (we DO live in Las Vegas, after all) and I can’t get any writing done. Can’t figure out if anyone likes it if they don’t review. So REVIEW! PLEEEEEEZE???
* - * - * - * - * - * - * - *
Chapter 1 – The Cave
The splendor of the yacht still impressed him; he couldn’t believe he’d actually won the Powerball on his twenty-first birthday! He even forgave his father for losing the family fortune on a bad business deal when he was a baby. Will Turner studied the cave entrance as he looked again at all of the notes he’d made from the small parchment journal he’d found at the bottom of the chest of antiques he’d inherited as a small boy.
His father finally let Will open it three years before, on his eighteenth birthday, though the journal and an odd, dirty red cotton scarf were all that held his interest for any length of time. He didn’t know why, but he kept the scarf with him at all times, hiding it from curious eyes and the elements alike. The journal was plain brown, rather nondescript leather, six inches by eight inches and about two inches thick. Inside were drawings, maps, notes, and other scribblings of a long-dead ancestor that he’d been told was a blacksmith. From what he had read in that journal, however, he was sure that his ancestor was much, much more.
He looked at his notes again. He studied the drawing of the cave before him and nodded. /This has to be the place./ He dropped the anchor and lowered the little motorboat into the water.
* - * - *
Coins glinted off the beam of the flashlight as Will eased the motorboat into the small beach area of the cave. He couldn’t believe his luck; it didn’t appear to have been touched since his ancestor described it almost three hundred years before.
“August 6th, 1721. As the two small boats float through the darkness toward the treasure room, I cannot keep myself from admiring the way that the others can just ignore the coins that fairly line the small waterway; any handful of which could pay for food, lodging, and even entertainment for a year or more.”
He hopped out and dragged the boat up onto the beach, walking toward the interior, flashlight in hand. As he walked farther into the cave, he noticed beams of sunlight streaming down to bring his attention to various piles of treasure along the way. He turned into one of the many side rooms and started fumbling through the treasure there, his mind in a whirl at the sheer amount of treasure in just this small anteroom.
He stayed there for what felt like hours, and indeed, as he departed the small side cave, he saw that the shafts of golden sunlight had been replaced by the supernatural silver of the moon. As his flashlight began to dim, he hurriedly changed the batteries; not that he was superstitious or afraid of the dark, oh no...but some of the writings in the journal about this cave were eerie to say the least. He supposed that his namesake had been on drugs or something, but the earnestness and clarity of the writings belied that idea.
Once the flashlight shone nice and bright again, he proceeded into what he could only imagine was the main cave. But it was FAR different than the journal had described. He imagined that the volcanic region would have sent tremors through the area, settling the treasure. Where the journal had described heaps of gold so high it took effort to climb them, Will saw a field of gold coins and objects appearing to be the soil for two huge trees with a single skeleton lying next to them, its left hand absorbed by one of the trees as it had expanded through the years. He carefully made his way to the skeleton. Though the moonlight was fully lighting it despite the two trees, it was obvious that this skeleton was not animate like the ones in the journal. He shined the flashlight into the trees: apples.
He chuckled. “Ah, then this must have been the man referred to as ‘Barbossa’ in the journal.” He noticed that one of the trees had green apples; the other had golden yellow apples growing on it. Will looked between the trees and did see a single hill of gold with a stone chest atop it, fully in moonlight. As he reached the chest, he saw that it had been chained shut, the chains locking into manacles on another skeleton stretched out on the box on its back, then finally coming together locked around the blade of a sword that had been pushed through the side of the poor bastard’s head. This skeleton looked much fresher, complete with hair and clothes that had not crumbled into dust through time. It also appeared to have glass eyes, as Will couldn’t imagine them being real. Still...he had a spooky feeling that they were watching him. “Yeah, right. I’ve just been reading too much Stephen King.” He found an ancient leather tricorn hat lying next to the chest and picked it up, putting it on the skeleton’s head covering the eyes.
Will looked around for something to use to cut the chains; he found a key next to the chest. “A skeleton key. It figures.” He tried the key in the lock around the sword and it came free. He tried it in the manacles. /Don’t want to disturb the dead any more than I have to./ “I’ll be sure to bury you both when I’m done.” He took hold of the sword and tried to pry it out of the stone chest’s lid through the skull, but had no luck.
“Maybe with the right leverage...” He climbed onto the chest, making sure not to disturb the skeleton, braced his feet on the lid with his legs spread, and pulled at the sword. It started to come free of the stone lid, but the skull was coming up with it. Sighing, he put his foot on the skull, pushing it down against the lid, hoping he didn’t crush it with his foot. He pulled again, the sword coming free of the lid and the skull, toppling both Will and the sword backward, landing on his arse and rolling down the hill. It must have jerked the skeleton a different direction, for as he looked up at the chest, he no longer saw it.
Will climbed the hill of gold and looked around the chest; no skeleton. He assumed it rolled down the other way, and reached to open the lid.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
* - * - *
TBC
A/N: Hey, This was the very first fic idea I ever had, but it's been fleshing out since the original movie first came out...Tell me what you think of it. Hit the REVIEW button and let me know, ok?