The loud rumbles of thunders as the lightning lit up the night sky, flashing here and there across the sky. With the sudden drop of temperature, the angry waves of the ocean started to hit the side of our ship; leaving us stumbling and struggling to stand on our own feet. The rain pattered on our wooden deck, getting louder in every second that passes as the clouds poured out its grievances on us.
And his eyes, looking for mine as he stood in front of the helm; hands were gripping tight, struggling to keep the ship sail still amidst the aggressive ocean.
That is all I can remember from the last night I have with my husband, from our peaceful dream of sailing across the sea; comes a terrifying objection of the earth.
I swallowed hard, hugging my knees as I scoot away from a man with a mug of rum on his hand. He entered my cell, eyeing me up and down as he stumble a few steps; drunken.
"What a treasure we found, a wench. Floating on the surface of the sea, crying for help." He uttered, squatting in front of me. I whinced, shutting my eyes tight as I felt his cold hand hold my chin; forcing me to let him see my face.
"Cruel Calypso. Ye face is far from her, yet she lead me to you." He hissed, kicking some buckets off of the floor. I gasped, struggling to be away from his touch as his fingers lightly grip on my chin; tilting my head as he inhaled my scent, his hot breath that lingers alcohol fanned my neck.
"A scallywag, I believe." I opened my eyes, coming face to face with a bearded guy; his eyes reflect nothing but guilt and sorrow.
"In pain, that's what you are." I mumbled with a shakey voice.
His grip on my face loosen as he stumble on the ground, sitting in front of me with his eyes looking so lost.
"Captain!" The crew went towards him but halted as he raised his hand.
"Avast ye. Give this wench and my.." He tilt his head, opening his wet vest and white ripped polo, "..some time alone."
With the hollering of the crew, I was left with him. Clutching on my dress as I tried to protect myself; Poseidon must be mad at me for punishing this way.
"Ye have been our captive for a couple of days. I'm sure ye are thirsty. Have some grog." He pulled my hair and forced me to drink; the bitterness of rum and the unexplainable aftertaste burned my throat. I coughed, wanting to vomit.
"What do you want from me?" I asked with a pang of pain on my chest.
"I need ye help." He mumbled, pulling out a knife from his side. The light from the lamp reflected the sharpness of it.
I bitterly laugh, looking at him with disgust. "You saved me from the sea, only to have me killed in your ship. You should've let me drown."
My anger was replaced with confusion as he held my hand and handed me his knife, with my fingers wrapped on the handle; he lifted it and pointed it to his bare chest.
"End this suffering." He uttered, with his eyes closed; a tear run down his cheek as he knelt in front of me. With his eyes meeting mine, a glimpse of his life flashed in my memory.
David Jones, the feared pirate ruling the seven seas with this Flying Dutchman; a ship given as a gift by the sea goddess, Calypso, whom he loves more than how much he loves the sea. With the infamous supernatural ghost ship comes a sacred task; collecting all poor souls of those who dies at sea and ferried them to the afterlife.
As the legends and the lore foretold, he was allowed only to come ashore for a day every after ten years to be with Calypso; but everytime he set his foot on the land, she was nowhere to be found. With the pain of feeling betrayed by the only person he loved, he begged in front of me; to carve his heart out— to save him from pain and wreaking havoc on the seas; he needed help, in exchange of helping me.
Flying Dutchman. David Jones. Calypso.
My mind is going wild with the things I am facing, with the darkness of the sea in front of me.
The pointed edge of his knife dug unto his skin as he gave my trembling and ice cold hand a pull towards him, a blood beaded out of his skin. I gasped, and he groaned.
"Keep my heart locked on a chest, keep it as you rule this ship when i'm gone.. it's y-yours to sail.." He mumbled, breathing hard as he choked on his own blood.
He continued to dig the knife deeper on his chest; his hand against mine were getting cold as he rollwed his eyes back, whispering with the side of his lips tugging upward for a wicked smile, ".. but you wont be free."
A tear roll down my cheek as I saw him fell on the ground, with panic drawing in my system; I dug his knife once more, carving his heart out and on my hand— comes the heart of the feared pirate.
I gathered my strength and stood up, eyes were lost with the view of David Jones lying on the floor; blood were dripping the floor. The scent of his fresh grog lingering on my cell.
"Captain.." A man uttered as he held unto the door of my cell, eyes were wandering on his dead captain and up to mine.
"Your captain is dead." I exclaimed, droplet of his blood dropping on the floor as I hold unto his heart. "You are all free."
"No.. No one is free in the Flying Dutchman." and there I stood frozen on my feet, an ice cold water splashed on my system as I felt my chest became heavy with the roaring thunders echoing. I clutched tighter on his heart..
I was cursed to be the captain.
