Smoke

Chapter 1 Most

The sun began to rise over the small town on the coast of Maine. The sea water crashed against the shore, and the air filled with the scent of salt, and dew over the rising fog. 

It's very early on the spring morning, the town is silent. The center building of town, the library, has a clock at the top that stands still, at 8:15. 

Along the shore, he walks. A man visually in his thirties, his dark hair quaffed in style, breathing in the sea air into his lungs. 

His stature is more intimidating with a confident walk, despite wearing regular black shoes, he still walks as if the train of his coat is heavy and the boots go up high. He's formal, partly. 

A white button up shirt, and fitted blue blazer that matches his eyes, and his black dress pants are what he wears now. His scruff is neat, but the age in his eyes is far more than thirties. 

Walking towards the main street, the businesses begin to open. Like clockwork, despite the town clock not moving. 

A diner, with the scent of burnt coffee and bacon cooking this early. Granny's. She puts a wooden sign out in front signaling open for the day. 

Her precocious adult granddaughter, in red shorts, helps her lift each shade one by one in the small town diner. 

A yellow food truck parks not far away, with the scent of fresh dough and sugar, Sabine's beignets. 

The police station, not quite active at this early hour, remains dark, as he walks by it. 

His destination is his office, at town hall, first he stops, ringing the bell into the diner as he enters. 

"Well Good morning Mayor," the waitress greets him. "Morning," he says with an accent, of Northern Britain. 

"The usual to go?" Granny calls out. "Yes," he says flatly. 

"Sorry I'm late," a brunette woman enters the door. Her hair is shoulder length, she's dressed in grey slacks, a button up top and a long grey coat. She displays a badge on her hip. 

"Sheriff Mills," he grins at her. "Well Mayor Jones, spying on us this morning?" She snarks. "Don't I always? And here you are late again," he muses. 

"Well, I don't think the town will suffer much waiting on my coffee before opening the station, given the worst crimes we see are some gravity on the school," she comments. 

He doesn't disagree, and nods his head the opposite direction. 

A few other townspeople enter the diner at this early hour, getting breakfast, and the town begins to wake up, sort of. 

Between the Mayor and Sheriff, the town didn't see much activity in the area of trouble. Both had a personality that most of the town didn't care to mess with. 

"Well, I'll tend my business, and let others tend to theirs," the Mayor mused, looking over the Sheriff in a wolf's way. 

She winces a fake smile at him, as he leaves, backing out of the door to flash a smile. 

Ruby, the waitress and Granny stare at the Sheriff. "What?" She gasps. "Oh Regina, come on," Ruby scoffs.

"What?" She repeats. "Are you two?" Ruby implies. "Wha--? I have to go," Regina shakes her head, and takes her bag of breakfast. 

"Me and Mayor Killian Jones, of all nonsense," She scoffs and walks out of the diner. 

As the Mayor, Killian Jones, makes his way to his office, he passes by townspeople, who always greet him.

David Nolan, the town animal shelter attendant. Mary Margaret, one of the school teachers, Archie, their town psychologist and his dog Pongo. 

Killian Jones heads into his marble floored office. It's ship shape, pristine, and has a fireplace. Upon the mantle is a ship in a bottle. He admires this everyday, tracing his fingers along the glass. 

He sits down, and folds his hands on his desk. Stretching his left fingers, flexing them, still as if it's foreign. 

In his corner he has a green safe. The walls are plastered with a wallpaper mimicking wooden planks, the furniture is a dark wood, matching the floors. Hanging on the wall is a wooden helm. The wheel of a ship. 

This is how every day for the past fifteen years has gone, almost the same day repeated for everyone else, only Killian Jones knows how long it's been. 

There are several questionable things in the Mayor's office. 

Being a little too picturesque, as if out of a storybook, to the average eye, the town has a magical force around it to keep anyone out. 

Storybrooke, a most curious name that Killian came up with upon his creation of the town. He stares out his office window looking at his creation, and feeling a sense of pride that he accomplished such a grand spell. 

Clasping keys from his pocket, he takes a gold one and opens the locked drawer on his desk. Inside, a black leather box lays. Pressing on the lid, it opens, revealing a shining hook, encased in red velvet. 

Killian's head tips up, almost pridefully, as he takes the hook out of the box. Turning it the other way, he places it against the lock of the safe. The end of the base being, a key. 

The safe opens, and he reaches his hand inside to clasp one of his most prized possessions. Rather, one of his most important. A squiggly shining sword. It's a bit more than a foot long with a handle resembling the 17th century. 

Upon the shining blade is engraved his name, Killian Jones. 

As his eyes gaze over his tether, they flick with an almost twitch. The town however, has no magic to be used, for now. 

The darkest curse that had been known was cast by the dark one, Killian Jones. Once Captain Hook, events of his life lead up to the dark deed of his, making him now a two handed Mayor in a small town. 

Those inhabitants had no idea who they really were or where they came from. 

For fifteen years, the people lived their lives, unknowing they were cursed there by a powerful villain. 

As the clock remained still, it symbolized that his curse was still in tact. Time moved everywhere else, and they remained frozen in time. 

In order to cast the Dark Curse, as it was called, the castor needed to kill the thing they loved most. 

For Killian Jones, however, the thing he loved most was the reason he cast the curse in the first place. The dark one was clever enough to have someone help him with this dark deed. 

As he returns the shining dagger back into the safe, he takes out a small wooden chess piece. A rook. 

He holds it between his fingers, closing his eyes, and presses it gently against his lips to kiss. 

Who was it to help the Captain to cast this dark deed? And did they know? Or were they also under his spell?