fic: From the Mouths of Fools
Another little fic, based on the latest prompt at 15minuteficlets.
Prompt: #189
Title: bah, I suck at titles, so it's another "Untitled" until I think of something. :P From the Mouths of Fools
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean - post CotBP, AU to DMC.
Rating: PG for pirates, but no piratical activities.
Wordcount: 343
Disclaimer: PotC is not mine.
Of all the enemies of the crown, many were deranged, drunk, and foolhardy.
Jack Sparrow was no fool, he knew. An arrogant, quick-witted, sharp tongued pirate, but if there was something that Sparrow wasn't, it was a fool.
A fool wouldn't have gotten as far as Jack Sparrow had. A fool wouldn't have outwitted the King's navy, running circles around the soldiers in Port Royal.
But a fool might leave with a catty grin and a wink, a tip of his hat as he rounded the corner, swaying through the streets and the back alleys. A fool might come back. A fool might hide out in the smithy, and try to sneak out through the back door when the patrol came knocking.
When he tells Sparrow he's bound for the gallows, the pirate responds with naught but a curt nod, though the glint in his eyes say something more like "we'll see, mate".
"There's no Turner here to help you break away this time, Sparrow. "
The whispers in the street say he's set for a private execution, quick and unceremonious. One or two officers, at the most. The whispers say that he's going to make another miraculous, ridiculous escape. The whispers say Jack Sparrow will survive, somehow.
The whispers drive him mad.
He expects the cell to be empty when he goes to retrieve Sparrow at dawn. Everyone is surprised when he says he found the pirate exactly where they left him, dozing with his hat over his eyes.
"I expected more from you," he says as they walk to the awaiting noose, and for a bit, his only reply is the jangling of heavy chains plodding along behind him.
"Well," Sparrow says finally, "what's death, eh?"
He turns to reply, and the man is gone, his shackles in a pile on the ground.
And so James Norrington was stuck again, befuddled by the only man that could seem to keep his head straight when he was about to lose it.
They say that the wisest words often come from the mouths of fools.
Prompt: #189
Title: bah, I suck at titles, so it's another "Untitled" until I think of something. :P From the Mouths of Fools
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean - post CotBP, AU to DMC.
Rating: PG for pirates, but no piratical activities.
Wordcount: 343
Disclaimer: PotC is not mine.
Of all the enemies of the crown, many were deranged, drunk, and foolhardy.
Jack Sparrow was no fool, he knew. An arrogant, quick-witted, sharp tongued pirate, but if there was something that Sparrow wasn't, it was a fool.
A fool wouldn't have gotten as far as Jack Sparrow had. A fool wouldn't have outwitted the King's navy, running circles around the soldiers in Port Royal.
But a fool might leave with a catty grin and a wink, a tip of his hat as he rounded the corner, swaying through the streets and the back alleys. A fool might come back. A fool might hide out in the smithy, and try to sneak out through the back door when the patrol came knocking.
When he tells Sparrow he's bound for the gallows, the pirate responds with naught but a curt nod, though the glint in his eyes say something more like "we'll see, mate".
"There's no Turner here to help you break away this time, Sparrow. "
The whispers in the street say he's set for a private execution, quick and unceremonious. One or two officers, at the most. The whispers say that he's going to make another miraculous, ridiculous escape. The whispers say Jack Sparrow will survive, somehow.
The whispers drive him mad.
He expects the cell to be empty when he goes to retrieve Sparrow at dawn. Everyone is surprised when he says he found the pirate exactly where they left him, dozing with his hat over his eyes.
"I expected more from you," he says as they walk to the awaiting noose, and for a bit, his only reply is the jangling of heavy chains plodding along behind him.
"Well," Sparrow says finally, "what's death, eh?"
He turns to reply, and the man is gone, his shackles in a pile on the ground.
And so James Norrington was stuck again, befuddled by the only man that could seem to keep his head straight when he was about to lose it.
They say that the wisest words often come from the mouths of fools.