Pirates Of The Caribbean: Bootstrap Bill Mini

Sinking

Down, down, down. Deeper and deeper into the black abyss he sank. Cold. Crushing. Suffocating. The weight of the icy depths pushing in on him. He couldn't breathe. He wanted to scream, to cry out for mercy, but it was impossible. This vast expanse of black, cold, nothingness, that should have been his watery grave was now an inescapable prison.

He could still see their faces dancing before his eyes, laughing as they carried out the captain's orders. "Send him to meet Davy Jones," had been the order. It didn't matter how it was done; only that he had to be disposed of. They said he must be punished for what he did. He had to pay for trapping them all like this, in their cursed form.

What had he done to deserve this? He was just an innocent man, wasn't he? No, he knew what he had done and he had done it on purpose, and given the chance, damn it, he would do it again. He had sent that coin, that Aztec gold, the final piece, he had sent it with the intent of leaving them this way. They were cursed and they deserved to remain cursed, so he had sent the gold to the boy.

William, the son he left behind. What had become of the spirited little boy with the lively dark eyes? How had he grown and changed without his father's observation? Did the boy still bare the striking resemblance to him that he had or was he growing up to look more like his mother?

What he was even more curious about however was the question of what sort of personality his namesake was developing as he grew. Had William retained the spirited and curious attitude so similar to his own or had he become more quiet and thoughtful under the watchful eye of his mother? Who was the boy now and who would he become in the future?

Guilt swept over him as he realized that even if he could see his son at this very moment it was likely he wouldn't even be able to recognize the child. He had left England while William was only two years old, only a baby. He doubted that the boy would have recognized him either, which pained him slightly.

Yet, in a way, he was glad. He would never wish his only child to see him this way, to see what he had become. He was nothing more than an animal, doing only as he pleased and caring not a whit for anyone who might get hurt in the process. Yes, he had become just what the others were. He was a pirate, a cursed pirate who was cold and black like the sea!

The sea, ah yes, the sea, icy, dark, immense, and silent. The pressure of her weight against him was nigh unbearable now, made worse with the knowledge that because of the curse he could not die and if he could not die then that meant he was trapped with this pain, this iciness, this silence, for all eternity!

Surely he would go mad, perhaps he already was. His mind was beginning to feel numb from all of the fear and pain. All he knew for certain was that at precisely the moment he was sure that he could stand it no longer, that he was going to lose his mind; the silence was shattered at last. It was then that he heard the voice, that voice that somehow seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, a voice that he would never be able to forget. "William Turner, do ye fear death?"