Ch.1 - Waiting

The water was black, sparkling with the light of a thousand stars, rippling slightly in the cool breeze. The gentle waves lapped at the side of the dinghy, causing it to bob slowly, rhythmically. William Turner leant his head back against the cool wood, staring up at the night sky, picturing a world a million miles away from the one he knew. His hand dangled lazily in the ocean, reaching down towards the murky depths. Towards his father.

William was only nine years old but already he had all the traits of a pirate, and a good one at that. He was skilled with a sword, quick on his feet and able to escape any hiding place unnoticed. This was not the first time he had snuck out of the house at night without his mother's knowledge. He knew the bay well enough to paddle out in the dark, avoiding the strong currents and finding a spot just off the coast where he could gaze at the stars, into the ocean, anything that felt like it brought him closer to his father. The father he had never met.

He had heard stories of the great pirate 'Captain Will Turner' and his crew, for as long as he could remember. Some of these had come from the mouths of school boys - tales of black flags, ghostly crews, Jack Sparrow, the mysterious Pirate King, damsels in distress and - one he did not like so much - Turner's death at the hands of Davy Jones. (One boy had even once suggested that Turner deserved death - he had lost his front teeth to William's fist. But William did not mind being sent home early and grounded by his mother - it was worth it, just to defend his name). But his mother, none the less, told the best stories.

His mother. She was so strong, yet so weak. She could fight better than any man he knew and could defend herself without any questions asked. But he had never known her truly happy. He tried to cheer her up - he'd pick her flowers, write her a story - but whilst they served to temporarily lift her mood, inevitably she would later fall back into a sad daydream. She tried to hide her melancholy from him, but he was intuitive and knew exactly what she was feeling. He missed his father too.

They would often sit together on the beach as the sun set, mother and son - him on her lap, her stroking his hair - and she would tell him of her adventures at sea. Her eyes would light up as she gave accounts of the first time she met his father, or their rushed marriage aboard the Black Pearl. And then, when a green flash appeared on the horizon she would jump up, lost in a world of her own, gazing out across the endless ocean, searching for a glimpse of the man she loved. The nights they saw the flash were always the best. They would stroll happily back up to the cottage, hand in hand. Elizabeth content that Will was still safe and her son overjoyed at having seen his father, even if he only existed for a moment, in his imagination.

They had followed this routine for as long as William could remember. Once a month, like clockwork the flash could be seen, and both knew that only one more flash remained before he would be home with them again for good. It was with that in mind that they had set off for the beach that evening, eagerly anticipating the last time they would have to wait again. One more month and it would be over.

But this night had been different. They had watched for the flash - somehow his mother always knew when it would appear . They had arrived earlier than usual with a picnic, enjoying the warmth of the summer. The bay had been as calm as a mill pond, and the sun low in the sky. They waited and they waited. The sun set and they waited still. Yet a green flash never appeared. They had both sat, baited breath for a few moments, before Elizabeth had stood up and moved to the ocean's edge. William had watched her silently, examining her every move. She looked pained, fear in her eyes. 'I don't understand' she had whispered to herself, before turning on her heel and marching back up towards the house. William had gathered the picnic blanket and galloped along behind her, following her all the way up the torch-lit beach, through the front door, into her small bedroom and towards the chest that sat on her bedside table. They both stood motionless, ears straining for a few seconds, before breathing a sigh of relief. It was still beating. William still found it astonishing that anything so cold could contain his father's heart, but he never doubted it - his mother guarded the chest as closely as she did him, never letting the key out of her sight and never leaving the chest more than 200 yards away. She sank to the bed and William rushed to her side, just in time to hear her whisper 'Where are you Will?'.

And now he was sat out at sea in the dark. He looked out towards the vast expanse of ocean before him occasionally, hoping to see the green flash, hoping to be comforted. But it never came.