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Got this peculiar idea whilst watching the very end scene of AWE. Anyways, it'll be my second PotC fanfic thingy. It takes place many many years after the end of AWE. If you have any questions about it, feel free to ask.
Chapter One: Elizabeth.
Elizabeth Turner sat in her chair, watching the fire in the grate burn low, the fire reflecting in her deep brown eyes. Her once soft golden-brown hair had gone steel grey. it lay in soft waves about her shoulders, a thin shawl was wrapped about her thin shoulders.
She looked up to the mantle piece above the fire grate. Five small portraits sat there, the first one was of Will, her friend, mate and husband. He had passed on earlier that year, after he had given up the command of the Dutchman to his father, he has spent the remainder of his 80 years with Elizabeth. The next was of Jack, their only child, he had grown up and was living with his wife, Rosaline, in a house on the shore of the sea. The next three were of Elizabeth's grandchildren, Tia, Hector and Davy, they all had wavy brown or blonde hair, with dark brown eyes.
Hector Barbossa had passed away several years before, dieing in a skirmish between him and a French navy man. The rest of the crew had soon followed, dieing in the battle as well. Jack Sparrow had floated away on a small ship, several years before that, and they had never seen him again. No one knew where he went, some said he died, other say he found the Fountain of Youth, and lived out his days around it, fawning over women and drink.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, and breathed her last breath. Her Spirit exited her frail body with that last breath, it floated up, out of her small boat, and out across the ocean, as the sun set. a green flash illuminated the sky as her Spirit crossed to the other side. Elizabeth's spirit saw on the endless horizon, a pale ship, floating in the darkness, which really wasn't dark. Hundreds of thousands of souls lit up the water with their deathly light. stars, mimicking the dead lit up the night. But there was no moon.
The Dutchman and her crew were taking a rest, as the dead swirled around her, waiting to really cross over. The Spirit passed over the ship, small men swarmed over the rigging, several were resting, waiting to continue their job. A strange call came from the ocean, all of the Spirits stopped moving, and listened to the strange call again.
"Elizabeth..." The voice crooned over and over again. Elizabeth's spirit stopped, the shadowy head turning to face the voice.
"Will?" The Spirit's voice was soft, almost in audible. "Is that you?" Her Spirit floated down, down to the wailing spirit.
"Elizabeth..." A pale face watched her, it was not the youthful face of her husband, but the year worn face, of James Norrington.
Last edited by Dark, Queen of Angmar on July 3rd, 2007, 10:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
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