Captain Jack Sparrow feared nothing. Ever since he was a child, nothing had stood in his way. Jackie had splashed through turquoise seawater and trampled into murky green forests without a lick of fear. He ran everywhere under the sweltering yellow sun. The little pirate experienced the shining red of rum in a dark bar and the violet of a beautiful maidens dress swishing across the street. He watched pinpricks of white under a velvety black sky and his heart lit up with joy over the dreams of one day sailing the sea.

His first time on a ship, Jack climbed into the crow's nest and stayed there almost the entire voyage, simply watching the aquamarine water sift against the sides of the vessel. Life was full of joy. Of adventure and discovery. Jack was happy and his childhood was full of love and laughter. The water was warm and the sun was forever shining.

As Jack grew up, things became harder. Life wasn't a fairy-tale and sometimes villains did win. But Jack knew this. He had an air of uncaring and humor was his persona. Nobody could ever catch Jack Sparrow in a serious mood. Some say he used it as a cover, a shield, others infer that he is a madman with crazed laughter and an unquenchable thirst for gold. Maybe a mix of both. Only Jack Sparrow himself knows the truth. Jack Sparrow, Captain of the Black Pearl. He sailed the seas far and wide, raiding merchant ships and searching for mythical treasures. He was respected, and even feared by some. Jack had finally achieved what he wanted most, a ship of his own.

Gradually throughout his life in piracy, through many captaincies and mutinies, Jack began to learn. He met Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. Jack learned to not run away, what it was like to sacrifice what he wanted for the good of someone else. He became a better person, a better Captain. Life had been going pretty well for Captain Jack Sparrow. Then Davy Jones released the Kraken. It wouldn't have been so bad. But Elizabeth had to tie him to his ship. The last thing Jack saw was tens of sharp teeth before he felt the large mouth close down and then nothing.

The Locker was Hell. Literally. Jack couldn't find water. It was too hot and there wasn't a soul around. And Locker time wasn't the same as the real world. When they came for him, he'd already been in the Locker for years. His crew rescued him, but one girl had already condemned him to his death and Jack didn't know if he could trust again. Once they had loaded him into the Pearl to leave, they could see something wasn't right with him.

Jack tried, he really did. But after dying, not everything was the same. The colors were a little less bright. The sun didn't seem as warm and the sea a little more darker. Will and Elizabeth got married, which shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. Maybe it was because he knew that after marriage, they would soon settle down and forget about him and Jack would be alone. He would end up falling back into his old ways.

Jack would sit in the Pearl's cabin and drown himself in rum with memories of Elizabeth's laugh and Will's partnership. The rum made everything fuzzy. And suddenly the world seemed a little bit harsher. Jack noticed the screams of innocent men as their ship was raided. He noticed the sharp undertone of old blood lingering in his cabin. He heard the shrill whimpers of forgotten people lining the streets of Tortuga and the harsh set of the barmaids face as she slapped away another drunkards hand.

The Black Pearl's income began a slow decline as its Captain started to slowly crumble. Jack hadn't even attempted to search for treasure in a long time. The Fountain of Youth was all but given up on and the Cursed Treasure of Cortés was running low. There wasn't much left. The sea was always hungry for her next meal, and she swallowed the bodies of both men and ships whole. Meat rots in the belly of the Black Pearl and maggots devour the ship itself as the Captain slips further and further away, losing his grip on reality. Mind falling back into the depths of Davy Jones Locker. It's not a ship anymore. It's a floating grave.

Captain Jack Sparrow sits in the bowels of the ship, taking refuge in his cabin. His mind is still in shock from the torture of Davy Jones and it takes a toll on his already fragile mental state. Jack's persona cracks a little more.

The Black Pearl is longer the fastest ship in the ocean. She rots and cracks along with her crew. The sails are beginning to rip and the boards start to creak. The Royal Navy is hot on her tail. She is slowing down, losing speed, as is her crew. It is only days later that the Navy catch up. They board the ship and commandeer her. It's a sight to behold. One of the last great pirate ships falling under British control.

They slaughter her crew with no mercy, no sign of guilt or remorse. Jack watches as Joshamee Gibbs, a childhood friend, is forced onto his knees with a sword at his throat. Watches as the light fades from his eyes as crimson blood swirls and Gibbs is forcefully extracted from piracy. Jack himself is left as the only survivor, tied to the front mast like a sick version of a prize.

Jack looked around, eyes tired. He doesn't see the prior years of success and celebration of treasure snatching. The companionship of crew. He doesn't see the beautiful vivid colors of his childhood. Grey clouds hang overhead, reflecting down and transforming the Pearl into a darkly tinged grey. The sea laps at the sides of the ship in a sickly grey color. Jack looks up and all he sees is grey. Grey sky, grey water, grey ship, and the paling grey corpses of his former crew, his friends, family.

They arrive at Port Royal and Jack is unceremoniously dumped onto the dock. He's shoved through the streets and yanked into the gallows. Jack meets the eyes of Will and Elizabeth Turner. They are blank. The clouds overhead start to pour rain and Jack laughs as it blinds the red coats enough for him to escape. He runs through back alleys, chest burning with powerful exhales. Jack's boot slips and he skids into a mud puddle, content to rest. The sky is still grey. The buildings are grey. The streets are grey. Jack laughs as the mud oozes into his dreadlocked hair and ruins his clothes. There was a time he would've cared. But now, he simply pulls out a spare bottle of rum and lays still.

What's the point? His crew is gone. Will and Elizabeth are dead to him. The Black Pearl isn't his. She greys just like the corpses of his crew. Jack can hear the rattling of bayonets coming closer, and yet he can't bring himself to move.

The red isn't the beautiful rich color of rum anymore. The red is now thick crimson blood splattering from innocent necks and running over their purpled, bruise covered bodies. The air is thick with the stench of yellow urine from the people who are somehow forgotten even though they line the streets and cry out. The docks are overrun with the blue bodies of drowned victims crawling with maggots and thumping against the dock with the waves, as if the dead had come knocking. And the emerald forests had turned into the sickly green of drunkards vomiting their souls into the roads. It wasn't bright anymore. The colors were the harsh reality sinking in. The world might as well be grey.

Jack laughs as he is hoisted up by red coats. It's a crazy maniacal laugh. He can already feel the roughness of the noose around his neck and the heaviness of the executioners footsteps. Death is nothing to him. The footsteps stop. The executioner yanks down the lever.

These days are dangerous now, because the world has lost its color.