Dear Grover Hunter,
Well, I guess I'd better introduce myself... this being my story and all. Oh, and an interesting one it is too. Right now I'm sitting here, looking at the ol' tank across from my desk. Writing my memoirs and all. So much has changed! I'm not even halfway through my life, and already, memoir-writing! Isn't that just great? Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. So. My name is Sadie Ella Ward, though nobody calls me Sadie... Mostly I'm called Bibsy. Why? Really, I don't know. My guess is that I can thank Bethany for that one.
(Bethany is my older sister. Older by two years. I guess her little two-year-old mouth couldn't pronounce Sadie, so she stuck to Bibsy. And ever since, I've been lumbered with the name of a three-year-old. Life just isn't fair, is it? And anyway, who cares about Bethany? This is my story, as in Sadie, as in Bibsy.)
I'm seventeen years old. (Nearly) (Very nearly)
And something I'm well-known for is, well, being a bit of a liar, y'know... Sometimes people call me Fibsy. Yeah I know, like, laaame. But they do anyway. Sometimes. And seriously, I don't lie, like ever. Well, um, I do, but so does everyone. And I, more like... exaggerate things a bit, bend the truth here and there, pick out words carefully, you know? Nothing too serious. And trust me, this story is as true as true can be. Really. And if you don't believe me, then... so's your face.
1) Pancreas-deep
So there I was, right? All innocent-like, not at all aware that I was about to be victimized in a terrible series of events that would change my life for ever and ever and ever. Well, perhaps life wouldn't be the right word to describe it...
I was happy, because I'd found a New Place. Right, so you might think (SO VERY NEARLY) seventeen is a bit old to go gallivanting off onto the rocks and cliff-face around the beach on the cove I live on, but really I needed some plain old alone-time because there was this mega-drama going on with, what, my old (ex) best friend Kimmy totally snogging my (ex? I don't know) boyfriend because he was totally drunk and the party was like, oh my god. And it turned out this guy called George was bi and... There's just all this stuff, right?
Hmm. It all seems little now.
Where was I before I rudely interrupted myself? Oh yeah, I'd found this cave in the cliffside. Totally amazing place. I used the torch in my mobile phone to see in, though there was quite a lot of light from the entrance... I'd never seen this place before. And when I got to the back of the cave, I made myself comfy, turned off the torch, and just sat chilling in the half-darkness. A little bit of light was filtering from the front of the cave, and slimy seaweed was glistening on rocks around me, though the one I was half-sat, half-lying on was sea-weed free, I'd checked.
The smell of the sea was intense in there. There was a sort of line on the wall – well, not really a line. The bottom half was this weird dark grey, and had seaweed and barnacles all over it, and the top half was normal rock-coloured. I guess when the tide was high, it came in here; but seeing as there was hours left before the tide came in, I had plenty of time to just relax. It felt like all of my senses were heightened in that cave... The smell was sharp, strong, overpowering, and I could almost see it clouding in the air. And I could hear the roar and tumble of the sea, even though it was far away. I could see the tunnel mouth ahead of me – and, just about, see the thin blue line of the horizon, curving gently, the shape of the globe.
I tried to get myself all peaceful and comfortable, but the rock I was lounging about on was sharp and pointy in all the wrong places (I know, typical. Just typical of the stupid, selfish rock.) and I just couldn't get myself right. I started 'exploring', you know, feeling around on the walls, jumping up to try and touch the roof of the cavern, shouting stuff like, "Halt, fiend!" and stamping my feet to hear the echoes, and general stupid kid-cave-type stuff.
An odd thing about the cave was the lack of vandalism. I mean, I was expecting beer-bottles, cigarette ends, tin foil, half a toy frisbee, that sort of thing. At least a crisp-packet. But no... this place was Untouched by Humanity. Which I thought was sort of cool. Apart from this bottle in the darkness by my feet; but I didn't even bother looking at that. Ha.
It was also dryer in here then it was outside. Seeing as this was good ole England, and it was a beach, it was obvious the weather was going to drizzle in a manner that was simply beyond the Vale of Crappiness, and more in the Lost City of Shitlike. (NB: I'm allowed to say that, 'cause I live in England, and am English. So blah.)
So this was where things started going weird. First, there was this sort of magical holy breeze thing, like in movies, and the wind is like rippling all around and lifting up the clothes and hair a bit, and the person experiencing the magical holy breeze generally stands there looking as agog as several gogs, which I think I managed to do quite well. And remember this was in a cave, so, well, that just multiplied the magical mysticalness of it all.
(Cheesy? Well, I didn't ask for it to happen, did I?)
And suddenly there was this weirdest feeling ever, like going up in an elevator really really fast so your stomach goes gloooomph and your brain feels smushed, and the feeling of being watched but not, and a feeling like you're floating slightly, and dizziness like someone just used your head as a basketball, and suchlike. Seriously weird. Also, it was like when you get this really bad headache, and you get up too fast, and suddenly all of these little white sparkly dots appear, usually from the top-left corner first, and sort of spread out over your vision so you can barely see.
And my ears popped.
And then...
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It was like being in a car that was racing along at a zillion krillion miles an hour, and then suddenly, WHAM! It just stops, just like that, making you jolt forwards, and nearly get whiplash. And it was like being in someone's mouth, and suddenly being spat out. It was like something mad had been happening, and everything gets incredibly madder for just a second, and then – splat. It's gone. Dead.
All of my senses rushed to me, in a really inane way. I couldn't see, and then suddenly, I could see everything much too clearly. And I was up to, well, about my pancreas in water. Huh? Maybe I'd passed out, or whatever. I don't know, but standing here still looking agog wasn't going to help me out, so I just ran for the entrance of the cave. The tide was coming in! Or maybe it was going out...? No, the walls were still dry, and so was I above the bottom-chest-type-area, and I was also alive.
The water was cold and sticky, and it seemed determined to cling to me in a really uncomfortable way, making my skinny-jeans stick to me, and my bright green converses were like... ruined. But no time for a valley-girl like explosion of mourning for my clothes now, and I crashed out of the cave with a huge spray of water around me, and glanced around.
The water was still knee-height right up to the cliff-face! Damn, I'd better get out of here... I also noticed that it was pretty dark, and I turned towards the sea, and saw that the sun was in the process of setting. Gads, how long had I been in that cave?! My mother dearest was going to go spare! Oh well, I'd think up some explanation on the way home. I waded across the beach, until... Um...
Cliff.
Where were the stairs?
Where in the name of pantyhose were the stairs?
Those lovely concrete stairs with the painted-white iron handlebar, rusty in some places, with that absolutely gorgeous sign about no dog 'fouling' on this beach, and the lovely, attractive, amazingly sexy EXIT? Where?
I'll tell you where...
...Err, not here.
(Okay, so I didn't, in fact, tell you where. Well I didn't know where, okay?)
The tide was coming in. Even though the sea seems to move at a quite a slow pace, it seemed to be racing up the beach now, devouring the sand greedily. No way up, no way out, I was stuck here; trapped. I had no idea what to do. There was nothing to do.
Oh my giddy god's g-string!
NB: I'm touching up on the story, to make it better. Basically, this story takes place about fifteen-fourteen years before the movies happened, about one year before Jack Sparrow came on board the Dutchman and made the deal with Davy Jones to raise the Pearl for him. Yes, it is a girl-gets-sucked-back-in-time fiction - I am aware there are rather a lot of those - and it does involve Davy Jones and the crew. But it is not a hideous DavyxOC story, and I tried keeping them all in character; no sudden softness and terrible OOC-ness that makes me want to cringe!
So, disclaimer; I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, in fact, the only thing about this story I do own is probably the rather ultra-crazy and slightly dim-witted Bibsy.