The clocks are not moving, the sky is always the same color, and I have begun to doubt more than just my eyes. Today I've begun to doubt the unraveling handhold of hope that has kept me and the rest of the crew alive. I cannot tell you how long we have been on this fate-forsaken island. Have we been dead all this time? Am I being punished for the misdeeds of my past? While I can see nothing clearly, I know that I am the only one left on the ship with the last of my wits. Our alliance with the aborigines is tenuous, we are never sure if we will live through the night, and Captain Hook grows madder and more hostile with each day.
As the rubber yellow sun dunks slowly through the grayish, haze of a sky, I indulge in a moment of recollection. I can recall the exact moment when things went wrong and how oblivious I was to it all. I pride myself on my ability of foresight, you have to understand. I've always been able to take a situation for all it is worth. It came to my attention early on that nothing would be handed to me. My mother had little money during my childhood. A simple, plain woman, she got us through my early years by baking pies with scraps of fruit or meat and sell them on the street. The stink of meat pies to this day makes my stomach twist and cramp with disgust. As soon as I was old enough, I recognized the situation, took calculated risks, and ensured our wealth and comfort. As my mother worked as a servant for the obscenely rich yet kind Friderwater family, I made sure that I was seen walking proudly through those noisy, iron gates to the family's estate. Later, my schoolmates were immediately impressed by my apparent intelligence and worldly knowledge. I am right glad that Mother cannot see what I have become. After she spent every spare coin giving me the opportunity to claim the greatness I knew was mine, my fate has been thrown in with a band of cursed pirates.
My life with the queen's navy had been good to me. I' risen slowly through the ranks, making midshipman in only four years. That's not bad considering that the boys whos fathers helped them through the ranks always got promoted first. I'd worked hard to get where I was. And then there was the time off. We had quite a few respites ashore and it was our chance to enjoy the local color of the little port towns where we stopped. Usually I stuck with Christophel, a fellow midshipmen, during our time ashore. He attracted the right kind of attention. The air had smelled like whiskey and thick, dusty fog that night. I remember the distinct way he fiddled with the ruby ring on his left hand when he said, "Really, Shamir, we mustn't ogle. It's bad form," using his usual admonishment.
"I wasn't ogling," I said. "Only admiring." The redhead across the room pretended not to notice me and giggled. She turned quickly to the slender girl sitting with her, telling a bawdy joke as the girl shrunk silently into her oversized dress.
As the rubber yellow sun dunks slowly through the grayish, haze of a sky, I indulge in a moment of recollection. I can recall the exact moment when things went wrong and how oblivious I was to it all. I pride myself on my ability of foresight, you have to understand. I've always been able to take a situation for all it is worth. It came to my attention early on that nothing would be handed to me. My mother had little money during my childhood. A simple, plain woman, she got us through my early years by baking pies with scraps of fruit or meat and sell them on the street. The stink of meat pies to this day makes my stomach twist and cramp with disgust. As soon as I was old enough, I recognized the situation, took calculated risks, and ensured our wealth and comfort. As my mother worked as a servant for the obscenely rich yet kind Friderwater family, I made sure that I was seen walking proudly through those noisy, iron gates to the family's estate. Later, my schoolmates were immediately impressed by my apparent intelligence and worldly knowledge. I am right glad that Mother cannot see what I have become. After she spent every spare coin giving me the opportunity to claim the greatness I knew was mine, my fate has been thrown in with a band of cursed pirates.
My life with the queen's navy had been good to me. I' risen slowly through the ranks, making midshipman in only four years. That's not bad considering that the boys whos fathers helped them through the ranks always got promoted first. I'd worked hard to get where I was. And then there was the time off. We had quite a few respites ashore and it was our chance to enjoy the local color of the little port towns where we stopped. Usually I stuck with Christophel, a fellow midshipmen, during our time ashore. He attracted the right kind of attention. The air had smelled like whiskey and thick, dusty fog that night. I remember the distinct way he fiddled with the ruby ring on his left hand when he said, "Really, Shamir, we mustn't ogle. It's bad form," using his usual admonishment.
"I wasn't ogling," I said. "Only admiring." The redhead across the room pretended not to notice me and giggled. She turned quickly to the slender girl sitting with her, telling a bawdy joke as the girl shrunk silently into her oversized dress.
