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The sounds of drunken men could be heard; shouting, laughing and gunshots. The air was thick with the odor of rum, smoke and filth. The streets swarmed with drunks, the pubs were bustling and the brothels busy. Of all the brothels in Tortuga, there was one in particular that was never lacking in business. It stood in the far side of Tortuga, surrounded by the busiest pubs. The brothel was ran by ten women-whores. They called themselves Tortuga's Finest. Rosalind Reynolds hid in the back of the brothel house so she would not be seen by any men who would want to purchase her company. Her face and chest were thickly caked with powder, the makeup that had been applied to her eyes streamed down onto her reddened cheeks like blood, the powder turned to mud by the tears she had recently shed. Rosalind's red hair was piled on top of her head and tied with a red ribbon. Her white hands twisted a red, silk scarf anxiously as she peeked from behind the green curtain separating the room she was in from the rest of the house. Rosalind's emerald eyes searched the clumps of people that came through the door for Abigail, who was something of leader of Tortuga's Finest. Finally she emerged through the door, her hair had been let down and her burgundy dress was wrinkled and slipping from her shoulders: she had just finished serving a costumer. "Abigail!" Rosalind hissed from behind the curtain. "Wut?" Abigail asked, looking around. "Oh, Rosalind, me love! What're you doin' in there, huh? We got costumers waitin'!" "Abigail, I really need to talk to you." Rosalind said, stepping from behind the curtain. "Wut's wrong wit cho?" Abigail asked as she saw the state of her friend."You got yourself all in a fret!" "I hafta talk to you." Rosalind repeated. "Be a dear an' tell me about it while you help me fix meself up, eh?" With that the two women stepped into the room covered by the green curtain. Abigail took of her dress and Rosalind began tightening her corset strings for her. "So what's got yer knickers in a knot?" Abigail asked, as she looked in a mirror and bothered with her hair. "Well, you know I been feelin' a bit under the weather fer a while now... An' now I know why..." "Wut's wrong, dearie? Caught yerself a bug did ya? You know, it's not hard in our profession ta-" "Come on now!" Rosalind interrupted. "Will you hush up an' listen?" "'m sorry, go on." "I don' know how ta say it, so I best just be out with it, it's just so hard for me to say." "Out with it woman!" "Abigail, I'm with child!" Abigail gasped as if her corset strings had been tied too tight. She spun around and grabbed Rosalind by the shoulders. "Are you sure?!" Abaigail cried out, alarmed. "I'm sure... Ye know, it's another thing that's not to hard in our profession.." Rosalind's eyes began to fill with tears again. "Oh, Rosalind, this is awful! Where're ye goin' ta go?" "W-what d'ye mean? Abigail, yer not throwin' me out are ye?" Rosalind looked at Abigail pleadingly through her round, emerald eyes that were quickly filling up with tears. Abigail sighed and looked at the desperate woman before her. "Rosey, m'love, ye know I love ye like ye was me sister, but we's barely makin' it by as it is, an' we can't afford to care fer someone who can't bring in any money!" "I'll find other work! Bring in money some other way!" "Rosey, dear," Abigail said, shaking her head sadly. "There is no other work fer a woman.. Not here, not anywhere. No one will want ta hire a woman fer anything else...'specially one that's with child." "I'll cook the food! I'll clean! Anything that needs done around here, I'll do!" Rosalind pleaded. "That's all chores we split among ourselves.. It may save us the rest of us the work, but it won' bring us in any money, darling." "Then you condemn me and the child ta death!" Rosalind cried, the tears streaming down her face. "Think about it, Abigail! All we been through together! B'sides, as soon as the child is born it's off ta work with me! I promise!" "This is a sad, sad situation." Abigail said. "Tortuga ain't no place fer a baby... But 'specially not the streets of Tortuga.. O'course ye can stay, dearie." Rosalind fell sobbing into Abigail's embrace. "Thank ye," she said through wet sobs. "Ye won't regret it, thank ye so much.."
ten years later "Amy, ye rascal! Where're ye at?!" Martha, one of Tortuga's Finest shouted. "Here I am, Auntie!" Amy said, bounding out of the room she and the other women shared. When Amy was born, all of the women instantly fell in love with her and were eager to help her mother raise her. She called the nine women 'Auntie' and considered them family, the only family she had known. At a young age, they had sat Amy down and explained to her their profession. At first it had scared her, but she learned to see it as normal, as it was the only life she had ever known. All the same, it frightened her when she had to go in the back room because some man wanted to purchase the 'company' of her mother or aunties. It frightened her when they would come home with torn dresses and teary eyes because some man had taken the liberty to have his way with them without paying. It was a frightening lifestyle to be sure, but she adored her mother and aunts and they were a family.
Five years later Amy was no longer allowed to leave the house. Not for a moment could she step outside her brothel of a home to purchase something, to gaze at the sea, to take a breath of fresh air. She hadn't been allowed to do this in a very long time, not since she had made the transition from child to young woman. Her mother and aunts told her it wasn't safe. Most of the time she was kept in the back room like a caged bird. She would stare disdainfully at the green curtain that covered the door as she listened to the sounds of the buyers enjoying their purchases, her family. It was a haunting thing; it frightened her, it angered her, but most of all it disgusted her. Many a time Amy had begged her mother and aunties to stop what they did, surely there could be another way to make a living. They regretfully told her there was not. This was the only place for a woman. Somewhere across seas women did not have to do such things, those women were ladies. They married and were cared for by a gentleman, they lived a life of luxury. Somewhere across seas, there were women who never sold their bodies, women who never had a shilling roughly stuffed into the top of their bodice by a drunk pirate, breathing raggedly in their face. Somewhere across seas... Amy had long since stopped believing in fairy tales.
four years later Now at the age of 19, Amy had grown into a beautiful young woman. She had long, reddish brown hair that flowed like silk past her shoulders. She had piercing blue eyes, that were soft and suspicious all at the same time, when she was angry they flashed like lightening. Her skin was fair and pale, probably from staying inside all of the time. At the moment, Amy was in the back room, lying on her back on the floor where she slept. The green curtain swished as it was pushed aside. Amy looked up to see her mother. Amy loved her so, but to see her sickened you. She was dressed for work. She was powdered from chest to face, her hair done in a way that the men found desirable, the neckline of her red dress plunged low, exposing massive amounts of cleavage. Amy's mother was holding what seemed to be another dress over her arm; she had a disgruntled look on her pale face and looked as if she had been crying. "Mum," Amy said sitting up. "What's wrong, mum? Are you hurt?" Amy was getting angered by the conclusions she was automatically jumping to. "Did one of those dogs hurt you? I swear one of these days I'm gong to-" "Amy." her mother interrupted. "Quiet. You and I need to talk." Amy's mother sat down next to her on the blankets. "What is it, mum?" Amy said softly. "Amy, m'love.. You know we've been having money problems.. We've had less food.. No money for nothing.. It's more than me and yer aunties can handle... Amy.. Yer a young woman now.." "What are you saying?" Amy asked, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "You knew you would hafta do it eventually.. You know there's nothing else for us.. Oh, Amy don't cry.." "I won't do it!" Amy shouted through sobs. "I'm not going to do it!" "Amy, we have no choice! This is all we have to live by! This is all we can do ta survive!" "I won't do it!" Amy cried again, she closed her eyes so she didn't have to look at her mother, the woman asking her to sell her body. "I won't do it! I'm not a whore!" Amy's mother pulled back and slapped her daughter. Amy opened her eyes in shock; neither her mother nor her aunts had ever slapped her. "Amy, you may think you're better than this, but you're not! You're a b*****d child, the daughter of a whore! You'll do this or you'll starve! We is whores, Amy, and whores is all we'll ever be!"
Meanwhile, a large ship was crashing majestically over the dark blue waves. Her black sails were fat with the blowing wind. "We’ll be docking in Tortuga, Cap'n?" a squat man asked his captain, a man with dark, dreadlocked hair with a variety of things beaded into it. His dark brown eyes were smudged with black kohl, the wind whipped is long coat and hair back and a dirty tricorn sat upon his head. "Aye, Gibbs." the man said. "Just like I promised the crew.. Am I not a man of me word?" Gibbs chuckled. "That ye are, Jack, that ye are... I'll be wantin' ta hit the pubs.. An' maybe pay a visit to Tortuga's Finest as well.." Jack grinned, flashing his golden teeth. "Aye... Great is the glory that is Tortuga... And her finest."
0undiscovered_talent0 · Thu Jun 21, 2007 @ 03:17am · 0 Comments |