Disclaimer:Nope, sorry, the mouse owns PotC...
Shards of Crusty Glass:Part Three
The dark-eyed mystic's shelf never had this unrelenting darkness. During the day, sunlight snuck through the cracks in the wooden boards mingling with candlelight and when night swept in, more candles were lit, a few of the flowers encased in glass glowed, and other bottles would hum and flicker after a day of silent dimness.
The darkness of the sea chest was not kind to me. I no longer had her mutterings to console me or my ignorance to shield me. I knew so little of her, of her and the world. The dreaded fear intensified and slithered around me. After a brief glimpse of the world, was I destined to stay seated? Had I missed it? Had I missed all I would ever experience? Had I served my purpose unaware the moment had come and passed? Blast her whisperings of destiny! Without them these ideas would never have entered my consciousness. I would've been a container holding dirt, without longings, without aspirations, without the notions of greater things. I'd be safe from serpentine thoughts winding round, round, round,round—
The heavens opened with a creak and dirt smeared hands reached for me. If I'd been human I would've cried. The fob watch curled up on the stack of papers in the sea chest did not share my joy. It's been three days,ye sobbing jar.
My captain's compass was more reassuring. Be kind, fob watch, you measure time, but it hasn't been as precious to you. Remember what it was like when you were new and the world was the same. The watch's ticking did not change in tone or rhythm, but it sounded like tutting to me before it replied. Mystical objects and your romantic notions. Hah. I have a solid purpose.I don't need to fret over trifles.
My captain hoisted me into an arm and slammed the sea-chest shut drowning out the fob watch's distain. He was shaken from his confidence and ease again and held me close as we descended into the rowboat. He plopped himself down cross-legged in the bobbing rowboat. Once again, I was keenly aware of the blue, monstrous sea moving beneath the thin layer of wood we floated on.
"You're pulling too fast!"
"You're pulling too slow!"
The two talkative pirates weren't any help with their unsteady rhythm and grumbling. My thoughts towards them then were unnecessarily harsh. Everything was so urgent and all consuming for me in those days. The immense relief I felt upon reaching the shore was snatched away the instant I realized my captain was leaving me in the boat with the talkative ones. No, no, no, I want to help! How can I help if you keep running away?
The rowboat oars must have sensed my frustration. Now is the time to rest, Jar of Dirt. They will return when they have need of us.
Us? At least you know what they need you for—I don't see what good I do.The sun was white and hot and distant and I could feel my glass heating up in it's rays.
Your captain would not have brought you if he didn't want you or need you. Others may see the good you do even when you do not. My Captain hadn't given me back. The dark eyed one had said I would how? I wanted to know what good I did. I was tired. I was tired of sitting on a shelf or in a sea chest or waiting in a dinghy rowboat. I wanted to know now. The oars weren't helping at all. Neither were Wooden-eye and his friend spewing nonsense and arguing.
I was delighted when they scurried off somewhere else mumbling about removing temptation from someone's path. A while later I heard the rattle of beaded hair and my captain's voice, "Jar of dirt!"
Yes, my captain? Was it now? I was ready. I was ready to—He flipped open my lid's hinge, turned me upside down and began shaking dirt out into the rowboat interrupting my thoughts. Wha-aaa-t-ssss-hap-ap-en-ning? I was relieved when he put me right side up again…until he pulled a beating heart out of his vest.
Not his heart, mind you, but the soul-stealer's heart which had been buried under sand and wood and metal and ink-stained one who had the heart would have the proper leverage over the soul-stealer. Hopefully, my captain would be free. I still wasn't enthusiastic about where he was going to put it.
Captain, I know you can't understand me, but maybe you could sense this? I do not want a corrupted, lovesick, heart beating inside me.My captain continued scooping out dirt oblivious to my pleas. No heart, no heart, no heart, no heart- no heh-heeeelllooo, barnacled heart.
Greeting mystic jar of dirt. The fair Calypso has sent you from a far—My captain started shoving dirt back in.
Who?I was unprepared for such warm greetings and the sensation of a twitchy, slimy, heart rattling around my jar.
Why the most alluring and captivating of all creatures, though once she could transform with ease between many forms! The heart began to beat faster in its excitement. Calypso, the mysterious one of great power, she who drove my captain to much grief and despair when he feared her love had wavered—
My captain snapped the lid shut. A howl sounded behind him. I slipped from his fingers. He swerved avoiding a sword swing and snatched up an oar to defend himself. The thumping heart continued his explanation.
Calypso, she who must have another name in her current corporeal form, but in my captain's letters he described with fine words the hints of sea salt tinged magic that emanated from her creations. I sense such magic lending you a sentience similar to mine.
The dark-eyed, mystical one is Davy Jones' love? I'd always had the greatest respect for her, but was it possible I had neglected to show her the proper amount? Why hadn't anyone told me? Why hadn't she told us? Was the world always so unpredictable and-
You are quiet. I apologize for my wordiness, mystic jar.
The memories of my prejudgments stirred in the back of my mind and I wished I could bury them. The heart was quite polite. Perhaps the notorious Davy Jones hadn't always been the tortured, sadistic, soul of lore. No, I apologize.I-I-was just surprised.I didn't know.
Know what,mystic jar?The sounds of swords clanging,boots stomping in the water, and shouts made my concerns seem small. It doesn't matter…don't you hear what's happening? I don't want to miss it! Miss what? Miss my moment! And spend an eternity wondering what it was or could have been locked in a chest somewhere, useless. You speak as if life only ever holds one moment where you are valuable.
I do. But something is troubling you.
But if I'm locked up again— It will not be the end of you unless you let it be! He thought I, the heart, was what held love—what he believed was destroying him—and ripped me out of him, locking me away with their letters of affection. I listened to the whispers of the letters, the stories they told, the adventures at land and sea, the sights and sounds, ports and people, and the love he had for all Her forms. Her power gave me sentience and life, but it was through their love that I learned how to live. I vowed that when I reunite with my captain to remind him who he truly is—whether it would be through him coming to reclaim me or in the next life when we are one again. Let go of your fear, mystic jar. Learn from every won't regret it. How can you be sure?You've just been freed.
I can't, but today has been glorious! I was unearthed as a treasure, fought over, pursued, and hidden near a pirate's sea is clear, the sand is white and warm, and I have met you, mystic jar. Who knows what else I will meet? This one day has been more than I imagined.
A rumbling noise shook the air, whatever objects made it sloshed into sea, before toppling over with a greater crash and splash. Moments later, the green-eyed man, Norrington, from the Pearl appeared. I remembered him because he didn't fit. He didn't want to be on the Pearl, but he had come anyway. He wasn't among the usual grumblers of the crew. The glares directed at my captain seemed to be about something more than having to scrub the deck. He seemed capable of much more than that. When my captain wasn't looking, I'd seen Norrington retie some other crewman's clumsy knot or correct one of the ancient crewmember's steering. He once slipped into the captain's cabin when my captain was asleep searching for something. He didn't find whatever it was, but before leaving he couldn't help looking at the navigational charts on the desk.
And there he was, sopping wet, standing over the rowboat while Davy Jones' men battled around us and against my captain. Norrington leaned over the rowboat,grabbed my captain's jacket, and shook out the letter of marque. He spotted the loose dirt in the rowboat and looked at me. He knew. My captain needed the heart. Norrington could keep the letter. I had to do something. Stop thumping. He'll feel it when he picks me up.
Norrington looked away. Was it to see if my captain would spot him?
A heart thumps, mystic jar, I can't stop nor would I if I could. Norrington reached out a hand.
Wait, my captain needs you! I need you. Norrington lifted the lid and spied the thumping heart. I was struck by a sickening realization. I did.I needed the heart. This is what I had to do. This was why my captain needed me. I was suppose to protect the heart. I was suppose to keep it safe. And I was failing.