Reviews I received for the Prologue: *Spoilers*
Jack Sparrow: this is jack luv great story even if you do hate me. Very good...savvy
Pillian's Reply: I don't hate you, Ovashing does. in reality, I'm quite taken with you.
PirateQueen7903 ([email protected]): I give this story an 8 1/2.
It was very good, except that at some points it was hard to understand for lack understandable language and some spelling errors. But overall I very, very much enjoyed it!
Pillian's Reply: Yay, thanx for the rating. Uh, really sorry about the grammar errors and or spelling ones, but I like to type out the chapters fast and post then quick while I have the ideas in my head. I hope to go back when the story's done and fix them all.
Jellysunshine: A morbid curiousity led me to check out this fic and reading the first chapter horrified me in more ways than you could possibly imagine. First of all what kind of a @$$hole is Ovashing? I know if I was Jack I would love my ship more than her too. Second, are you a Jack Sparrow hater? Does it make you feel special to run him down and make his door swing both ways? Last how does Ovashing sound like "who was she"? It sounds more like Ovaltine to me. What kind of a fanfic is this?_
Pillian's reply: I actually got this flame, about half way throughout writing Ovashing, and it was my first one. I was so pleased. I like getting flames because they tell you straight out what you need to improve on, and what some people don't like. I won't right the reply because I replied the person then, and can't remember what I said.
The Second Geek: oh! you have got me interested, though i really HATE to be nitpicky, you just have a few...misspellings...and...gramatical...errors...THERE I SAID IT! [shakes fist at sky]
bahahahh!
[runs away crying, only to come back if you update quick]
Pillian's Reply: This was my First every review! Alas, my grammar has changed a snitch, but oh well. Thanx for my review anyways.
PROLOGUE
My name is Ovashing. My mother said she called me that because it sounding like "Who was she?", something she said way to much to my father. It does, when you think about it, when you say it fast.
I live and grew up here, in Tortuga. I'm the daughter of Giselle and a man who cares more for his ship then he does me. I utter not his name for I care for him less then I do the Queen or King.
Last my mother saw of him he was with some boy, three or four years older then myself. Mother always said one day he's go through all the women in the world and have to swing the other way. I guess she was right. How could I have doubted her?
He never writes or visits. But news that's he's still alive and in a lot of trouble reaches us here. Never have heard him say, "Where is she, my dear Ovashing?" I know he knows I'm here, but he doesn't care.
Mother died. She died saving Little Mindy. Nigel Nine Drive had had too much to drink after sinking one of the fleet, and went after poor Mindy, who was shy and alone. Mother got to her first and stopped him, but he hit her so hard she never got up. The others shot him... never hit a woman. It's part of the code.
Poor Mother.
Poor Mindy.
Poor Me.
One might wonder why I cared about myself after the fight, after what happened to Mother and Mindy, but this whole ordeal leaves me in a tight spot.
Many men, good code following pirates as they are, have their eye on me. I'm young, smart and still a virgin to my knowing. Mother always made it clear that I was for no one. I was thankful. I only want one thing from life. Revenge on HIM. Now, with kind my strict but kind mother gone, they came by day after day. Those who were friends demanding privileges.
They don't understand.
To top it all off, a monkey has adopted me. It's dressed all up, just like one of us, and had the intelligence of several pirates. Over its shoulder hangs a bag, and in it I found a few gold pieces. On them was a skull encircled by patterns and designs. The little disk look expensive. I kept them. On it's left paw and a small tattoo. It was his name, I assumed. A four lettered name, of which sent chills down my spine..... Jack.
That name is cursed; I decided when I was very young. My curse. My curse from my father.
The monkey did not only bring this chilling bad that was his name. He brought opportunity.
The gold pieces this creature had brought are all exactly the same, down to the last scratch. I could buy myself a sword with them, and maybe some help. Find my father... revenge. Sweet, sweet, revenge. But, alas, the plot to this story of my life gets thicker. Out for a moon light stroll farther away from the village I was, when I got the greatest shock of my life.
Jack had been following me in the tree, and he jumped to my shoulder. But what jumped was not Jack. What jumped was definitely something else.
Where skin should have been, there was rotten flesh with bones showing through. Where the clothes used to be, holed-up rotten cloth hung to his distorted form. I would have screamed, but that's something a lady would have done. I am not a lady.
Then it all came flooding back to me. The tales my mother had told me, ones that she had heard from my father. Buried on an island of dead that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Eight hundred eight- two pieces of identical Aztec gold delivered to Cortés himself. A curse... any mortal... I had a plan.
I set out that night, hardly allowing time to pack. Food, water... clothes. I just had to go. Gone. My little boat.
Gone.
Jack.
Me.
Gone.
I was gone.
Jack Sparrow: this is jack luv great story even if you do hate me. Very good...savvy
Pillian's Reply: I don't hate you, Ovashing does. in reality, I'm quite taken with you.
PirateQueen7903 ([email protected]): I give this story an 8 1/2.
It was very good, except that at some points it was hard to understand for lack understandable language and some spelling errors. But overall I very, very much enjoyed it!
Pillian's Reply: Yay, thanx for the rating. Uh, really sorry about the grammar errors and or spelling ones, but I like to type out the chapters fast and post then quick while I have the ideas in my head. I hope to go back when the story's done and fix them all.
Jellysunshine: A morbid curiousity led me to check out this fic and reading the first chapter horrified me in more ways than you could possibly imagine. First of all what kind of a @$$hole is Ovashing? I know if I was Jack I would love my ship more than her too. Second, are you a Jack Sparrow hater? Does it make you feel special to run him down and make his door swing both ways? Last how does Ovashing sound like "who was she"? It sounds more like Ovaltine to me. What kind of a fanfic is this?_
Pillian's reply: I actually got this flame, about half way throughout writing Ovashing, and it was my first one. I was so pleased. I like getting flames because they tell you straight out what you need to improve on, and what some people don't like. I won't right the reply because I replied the person then, and can't remember what I said.
The Second Geek: oh! you have got me interested, though i really HATE to be nitpicky, you just have a few...misspellings...and...gramatical...errors...THERE I SAID IT! [shakes fist at sky]
bahahahh!
[runs away crying, only to come back if you update quick]
Pillian's Reply: This was my First every review! Alas, my grammar has changed a snitch, but oh well. Thanx for my review anyways.
PROLOGUE
My name is Ovashing. My mother said she called me that because it sounding like "Who was she?", something she said way to much to my father. It does, when you think about it, when you say it fast.
I live and grew up here, in Tortuga. I'm the daughter of Giselle and a man who cares more for his ship then he does me. I utter not his name for I care for him less then I do the Queen or King.
Last my mother saw of him he was with some boy, three or four years older then myself. Mother always said one day he's go through all the women in the world and have to swing the other way. I guess she was right. How could I have doubted her?
He never writes or visits. But news that's he's still alive and in a lot of trouble reaches us here. Never have heard him say, "Where is she, my dear Ovashing?" I know he knows I'm here, but he doesn't care.
Mother died. She died saving Little Mindy. Nigel Nine Drive had had too much to drink after sinking one of the fleet, and went after poor Mindy, who was shy and alone. Mother got to her first and stopped him, but he hit her so hard she never got up. The others shot him... never hit a woman. It's part of the code.
Poor Mother.
Poor Mindy.
Poor Me.
One might wonder why I cared about myself after the fight, after what happened to Mother and Mindy, but this whole ordeal leaves me in a tight spot.
Many men, good code following pirates as they are, have their eye on me. I'm young, smart and still a virgin to my knowing. Mother always made it clear that I was for no one. I was thankful. I only want one thing from life. Revenge on HIM. Now, with kind my strict but kind mother gone, they came by day after day. Those who were friends demanding privileges.
They don't understand.
To top it all off, a monkey has adopted me. It's dressed all up, just like one of us, and had the intelligence of several pirates. Over its shoulder hangs a bag, and in it I found a few gold pieces. On them was a skull encircled by patterns and designs. The little disk look expensive. I kept them. On it's left paw and a small tattoo. It was his name, I assumed. A four lettered name, of which sent chills down my spine..... Jack.
That name is cursed; I decided when I was very young. My curse. My curse from my father.
The monkey did not only bring this chilling bad that was his name. He brought opportunity.
The gold pieces this creature had brought are all exactly the same, down to the last scratch. I could buy myself a sword with them, and maybe some help. Find my father... revenge. Sweet, sweet, revenge. But, alas, the plot to this story of my life gets thicker. Out for a moon light stroll farther away from the village I was, when I got the greatest shock of my life.
Jack had been following me in the tree, and he jumped to my shoulder. But what jumped was not Jack. What jumped was definitely something else.
Where skin should have been, there was rotten flesh with bones showing through. Where the clothes used to be, holed-up rotten cloth hung to his distorted form. I would have screamed, but that's something a lady would have done. I am not a lady.
Then it all came flooding back to me. The tales my mother had told me, ones that she had heard from my father. Buried on an island of dead that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Eight hundred eight- two pieces of identical Aztec gold delivered to Cortés himself. A curse... any mortal... I had a plan.
I set out that night, hardly allowing time to pack. Food, water... clothes. I just had to go. Gone. My little boat.
Gone.
Jack.
Me.
Gone.
I was gone.