Ferrier of Souls: Master of Tides
Disclaimer: Sadly, the Pirates of the Caribbean do not belong to me; the whole franchise belongs to Disney, Ted Elliot, and Terry Rossio. Without intending any copyright infringement for any sort of profit, I am "borrowing" the characters for my little story. Please, please, please don't sue me. Thank you.
Mythology reference: Morpheus is the Greek god of dreams.
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Captain's Log
9 years, 7 months, 23 days, 10 hours
Every day is an eternity without her, but now that eternity has an end in sight.
Eight months. Eight months have passed like a dream. Eight months since my crew and my immortality was last threatened. Eight months and I haven't slept a wink until last night.
It was maddening trying to fight off the slumber, the sand man's grains of sleep. The last time I let my eyes fall closed, Sirens terrorized my ship. Yet, sleep ever remained the seductress until mine eyes shut and my mind left for the world of Morpheus. Such strange visions I had, visions I cannot seem to escape even as I perform my daily eternal duties.
On a battlefield of water, much like a maelstrom of shinning light and foam, I saw warriors fighting valiantly, dying for a cause much bigger than myself. I, myself, commanded a fleet of ships with a single gesture of my hand. People, souls, everything that touched the water heeded my orders. The very waves themselves obeyed my thoughts and all the while my scar burned like a fire poker.
My scar still sears with the residual pain.
Yet, somehow, I could sense with a profound awareness that the love of my life stood waiting on an island, waiting expectantly with a boy at her side. And I couldn't reach her. A barrier held her captive, a barrier I couldn't breach. My undead lungs do not take in oxygen in order to survive, yet I felt a suffocation invading my being every time I reached out for her.
The pain and the illusion were so real that I woke up gasping for air. I am not one who usually lays much stock in dreams, but this was no ordinary dream. This was a nightmare.
This was a nightmare that has since haunted every thought, every moment. Today as I collected three souls to ferry aboard my ship, I saw in their eyes water. In their hair, I felt the wind. As I asked if they feared death, I saw warriors dying and rising and dying again. When they said no, I saw Elizabeth behind that barrier denying me my day on land. Then, as I confirmed that their hands were as cold as ice and they were indeed dead, my scar smoldered in aches. When at last I offered them passage to the land of the dead, I could hardly catch my breath. This was a living nightmare.
If there be a heaven or if there be a hell, I want to know in which realm my vision lies. For it feels too real to merely be a dream. It feels wrong and right and my hands ache to touch something. My heart aches for I cannot determine for the undead life of me whether my hands ache for Elizabeth's cheek or the salted power of the sea.
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Author's Note: So, I guess you could say I decided to a sequel to "Ferrier of Souls". Hope ya'll like it so far and will continue reading. Like its predecessor, this story (as far I know right now) will have more of the aspects ya'll enjoyed in "Ferrier of Souls": grand adventure, epic mythology, and (obviously) captain's logs alternating with third person prose.
Past that, please review, flame, or constructively criticize. ;) You know you want to.