Drabble: 'Pace' (Jack/Harry (OFC) - G)
I've been re-reading some of viva_gloria's 1200 word Sentences at impofperversity lately (amazing writing, I bow to her brilliance), and this 200 words drabble is composed in that style. trinityday, Drabble Mate at blackpearlsails, seems to be posting some strangely apt prompts of late, considering the recent birth of my new grandson, whose company I've been enjoying here at my daughter's home for more than a week now. Last week's prompt was 'Pace'...
Jack Sparrow generally sailed from island to island, but there was one time when he paced the distance between Martinique and Barbados, lending his laboring wife (wife: strange, that, though when Harry looked into his eyes it all fell into place - and laboring: God help them both) support and what comfort he could summon from the Reason awash in the fearful cacophony of his brain all that long day, round and round the Pearl’s Great Cabin (a decadently roomy space as befitted Captain Jack Sparrow and his Consort): one would have thought they’d have worn a path in that Turkey carpet (blood red with a chaotic pattern of black, and Jack tried not to think that an Omen), though they paused often enough, and then more as they neared their destination, or destinations really, Harry’s discomfort slipping slowly but inevitably toward pain that Jack could do little to ease and nothing to prevent, and some thought him fortunate when they finally docked at Bridgetown and that blasted obeh woman came and tossed him out of his own cabin, Come have a drink, Jack they said, all sympathy, but no, he could not, and paced on under the wheeling stars, alone.
~.~
Jack Sparrow generally sailed from island to island, but there was one time when he paced the distance between Martinique and Barbados, lending his laboring wife (wife: strange, that, though when Harry looked into his eyes it all fell into place - and laboring: God help them both) support and what comfort he could summon from the Reason awash in the fearful cacophony of his brain all that long day, round and round the Pearl’s Great Cabin (a decadently roomy space as befitted Captain Jack Sparrow and his Consort): one would have thought they’d have worn a path in that Turkey carpet (blood red with a chaotic pattern of black, and Jack tried not to think that an Omen), though they paused often enough, and then more as they neared their destination, or destinations really, Harry’s discomfort slipping slowly but inevitably toward pain that Jack could do little to ease and nothing to prevent, and some thought him fortunate when they finally docked at Bridgetown and that blasted obeh woman came and tossed him out of his own cabin, Come have a drink, Jack they said, all sympathy, but no, he could not, and paced on under the wheeling stars, alone.
~.~