Jack Sparrow Can’t Escape the Classics
By William Reed
Jack Sparrow was flung into the center of the cell, landing on his back. The dark bluish gray studs scraped his backside. He propped himself up in time to see the bar doors slam shut. A throaty laugh issued from a silhouetted figure standing in one corner of the poorly lit cell.
“So, the Imperials found themselves a sea rat,” remarked the shadow.
Jack shook his hair out of his face. In a slurred voice he said, “I’ll have you know mate, I resemble that remark.”
The shadow chortled louder. Stepping from the dark recesses, the man revealed himself. A large bicorne hat with skull and crossbones sat upon the man’s head. He wore a patch over one eye and his beard was the color of blood. His left hand was nothing more than a wickedly sharp hook. The rough cadence of his walk betrayed his wooden peg leg.
Putting his face next to Jack’s, the man grinned. “Why, I do believe you’re right.” His fowl warm breath crawled across Jack’s skin.
Jack briefly considered changing his expression to his scared face.
Opening his mouth, the cliché pirate barked with more laughter. “The name’s Captain Red Beard.”
“Your pleasure I’m sure. And it looks as though they closed the cage on you before you were completely in.” Jack smirked as he hopped to his feet. “But let it never be said that Captain Jack Sparrow would not help the disabled.”
Red Beard shook his head. “No need my boy.” With his hook he pointed behind Jack.
Spinning around, Jack found himself face to face with a void. Where a wall should be was empty space.
From behind, Red Beard commented, “Great pirate hunters these Imperial dogs may be. But they make awful prisons.”
“It’s probably for playability,” Jack muttered.
Word Count: 299
Edited by blackpyre, 07 July 2011 - 06:10 PM.