Daughters of Davy JonesA Story by Kitalia Emme
There is a darkness that dwells within human hearts. A black mass that is hatred and revenge. It consumes you, swallows you, crushes you the light. You lose your ability to care, to love. There are those who reject this sickness, who fight against it, and there are those who fuel it and feed it.
Now the sea is an unforgiving place. She chooses who lives and who dies. She rules the hearts of those who dance upon her waves. She is cold and unforgiving. Ruled by none. But there are those who have tamed her, who have become one with her heart. Who understand her moods and sooth her tempers. And there are those who are kindred spirits, who understand her nature, who are in tune with her wrath. Those who long to escape into her depths and vanish. And it is those who have no regard for life, no reason to live other then the darkness that drives them. They see the endless water as a purgatory, a place their soul can be at peace. A kingdom that they alone can rule until the day the dark waters claim them, cleanse them, and they become one with the sea. This is the story of two hearts who lived only to rule the vast expansions of water. It begins with death. Such a dark and empty note. Death that leaves nothing but the hollow craving for a love once known. A last good bye, a final breath, and nothing but the memory of all that was lost. For some such pain is far to great to bear. And for George DeLeon this was the case. Every moment in the home he had shared with his family was wrought in excoriation. And so he did what his dark heart desired. He took his two daughters, the constant reminder of the love that now slept in the cold earth, and he sent them to the far reaches of the world. A place he would never see them. He justified, in his sickened mind, that at fifteen the girls could find their way. He sent the money he had left and determined that a school for young ladies was the only way he could be rid of his pain. He was wrong. He felt, upon the departure of their ship, that he was more alone then ever. As, in truth, he was. He walked into the sea. But this tale is not of the death of a man named DeLeon: It is of the life of the girls he sot to abandon. This is a tale of the sisters and the torture they endured, the war that they fought, and a rope. The journey was long, as all journeys are, and they clung to each other in grief and fear. They hat lost their mother, and now were spited and abandoned by their father. What else did they have but each other? However their fates were locked into a hellish ordeal that they could not have imagined in the darkest of their nightmares. It was nearly a month into their journey when the ship was taken by a storm and strayed from her course. Crippled and lost she sat atop the waves, desperately pleading for mercy. Her crew frantic as it grasped at the smallest strains of hope. Hope that would appear as a sail on the horizon. Hope that was shattered as the flag was raised. A crimson and black sign on death looming ever closer. The sailors acted in desperation, but to no avail. The ship was taken, the passengers victims to the cruelty of the vultures that prey on the weak. Pirates, cold and heartless and please with the easy mark. It was only moments before the men were banished to the depths below. An offer was made to the women, that their lives, that the lives of their children could be bought. A price many quickly paid, not realizing they were simply purchasing a slower death. The sisters had naught, as their father had entrusted what little he spared to the captain, the captain who now slumbered in the sea bed. The pirates demanded that pay be given, and when none was furnished they deemed that the sisters give their very lives. Believing that it was the cold water that awaited them they agreed, begging to stay together to the last. This was agreed upon and so the sisters willingly allowed themselves to be drug from their corner and across the deck They clung to one another, accepting the death that was sure to come. If only fate had been so kind. It was not the loss of life that these depraved souls were demanding, but it's continuation. It was the warmth and the beauty, the tender innocence that they craved. And in this way they bought their lives. Day and again. Each longing for death, each living only in the hopes that her sister would not die. Soon the fear and anguish gave way to loathing. A deep festering hate that consumed them. They had no reason to live, and yet could not die. The began to whisper curses to their captors, twisting their minds and creating distrust among the crew. Tainting the rations and dampening the powder. It was simple sabatoge, but the repercussions were great, and soon the crew began to fight amongst them selves. The sisters learned who they could trust. Who they could use. Who was their biggest threat, and soon they manipulated the crew into a mutiny. They claimed the ship as their own. Taking their vengeance on their abusers and showing no mercy to any who opposed them. Soon they had weeded the scum from the crew and found that it was all they could do to maintain the sails. Much less survive om the merciless waves, so they returned to the land, leaving the Galleon for a smaller vessel and taking to the river. They had tasted the sweet nectar of power. It was a drunken addiction, one they could not release. For seven years they preyed on the unsuspecting and weak. Slowly building a crew they could trust. A crew that was ruthless and skilled. A crew with hearts as black and the flint that rested in the chests of the sisters. They returned to the sea, christening their new galleon the Gemini. A name that was to be feared across the world. But still, they craved power. The ever deepening longing for revenge against the world that abandoned them. The burning disdain for those who created them. Disgust with what they had become. They longed for death to grant it's sweet kiss. The purity of justice to end their suffering. They had fallen into a hell they could not escape. Drowning their guilt in a sea of blood, spiraling into a violent abyss as they began to hunt larger mark, taunting the navy. Building in infamy with each new victory, and slowly watching as their souls faded into demonic reflections of their former selves. It was the slaughter of a Naval ship, one they boasted with pride, as they hung the charred heads of the officers from the bow. Flaunting to the world that they were the children of Davy Jones himself. But a life bought in blood comes a great cost. And in the darkness of the night, as the crew slept in drunken bliss having reveled in their latest victory, the navy found them. They were chained and drug before the seat of the courts, and the eyes of God. They were accused of sin and murder, accusation they accepted with pride. It had come, the time to cleanse their souls had come. They made but one request. Allow them to go together, to walk hand in hand through the gates of Hell. And so they were drug before the solemn crowd to stand upon the platform. The ropes were placed around their necks, and their last words requested. No one who was there that day will forget the chilling sight as they clasped hands and fell, dangling hand in hand, from the ends of the rope. Nor can their words be forgotten. "A man can breath, he can walk, he can kill, his heart can beat. But a man who had forgotten his reason to live is already dead. We welcome this, as out sould can finally be free." "And though we have done many things in the name of the devil that you all fear, we have been dead for all these long years. If you have a reason to live, then go forth and do it. If you have lost that reason then the sea beckons. Go forth and find your death." © 2014 Kitalia EmmeAuthor's Note
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Kitalia EmmeTXAbout***Sorry for my absence. I lost a husband, fought addiction, and came out stronger that ever. I have been sober for 10 months. I am pulling my life together and healing from my loss (No, I wasn't wi.. more..Writing
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