Prison of the Mind

Et Mali Tenebrae

He no longer had any desire to open his eyes. The black kohl had since smeared away from the countless times that he had run his hands over his face, trying to erase his memories, this place, his life. It was now replaced by the weight of the knowledge that nothing was going to make this hell cease to exist, and he was going to be trapped, floating in oblivion forever, haunted by scenes from his mind's sick play that recounted every memory in his mind that he wanted to forget.

His consciousness fading in and out. He vaguely felt long fingers of cold crawl over his arm, then his shoulder, and finally to his face. Somewhere in the chasm of his mind, he registered that he wasn't supposed to feel cold. He couldn't feel anything anymore.

"Jack Sparrow."

Every hair on his body stood up, and he shivered. Voices belonged to bodies.

There was someone here with him.

Coaxing his legs into working, he slowly stood up. His taunting hallucinations, and the harsh pierce of reality were starting to overlap. He wondered if he was finally going insane.

"Jack?"

The voice was quiet, but the way the deep timbre held no kind of uncertainty or fear or anything but peace spoke of a very old soul.

Peering into the darkness, trying to locate the voice's possessor, he suddenly heard it chiding itself.

"Oh, excuse me. It may help if there was light, as much as I loathe to have it around."

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the change in the room before him. Torches now lined what appeared to be a circular room with a round table.

Standing on the opposite side of the table from him was a figure hidden behind a black hooded cloak.

The time, if it existed here, ticked by at a slow creep, as Jack waited. Finally, he decided to speak first.

"What's wrong with having light around?" Jack eyed the figure warily, making sure it knew that if it was here to manipulate him, it was a lost cause.

Its head tilted. "Brings back bad memories."

Bad memories were the only thing Jack had at this point.

The chair the figure was standing next to scraped across the stone floor as the figure pulled it out to sit, motioning for him to do the same.

Stepping forward, Jack watched his shadow bounce and sway across the stone walls. When he reached the chair, he did not sit down right away.

"Are you another hallucination?"

"Oh no, Captain Sparrow, far from it."

Dark kohl-colored eyes watched hidden ones.

"Then who exactly are you?"

A ghostly pale hand extended towards Jack's chair.

"Sit, please."

Finding no reason to challenge it for now, he sat.

"I am going to venture a guess and say that you are not considering the idea of removing your hood. I prefer to see the people I talk to, if you are a person."

The figure seemed to think for a moment.

"If that is what you wish, than I shall comply Captain Sparrow."

Until then, the firelight had seemed to lick at what was hidden underneath the black shadow-like fabric of the cloak. Now, as every inch of black fabric was pulled back, the Captain sat there, shocked.