Elizabeth : I hardly believe in ghost stories anymore, Captain Barbossa .
Barbossa: Aye. That’s exactly what I thought when we were first told the tale. Buried on an Island of Dead what cannot be found except for those who know where it is. Find it, we did. There be the chest. Inside be the gold. And we took ‘em all. We spent ‘em and traded ‘em and frittered ‘em away on drink and food and pleasurable company. The more we gave ‘em away, the more we came to realize…the drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths, and all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust. We are cursed men, Miss Turner .
Compelled by greed, we were, but now we are consumed by it.
We are not among the living, and so we cannot die, but neither are we dead.
For too long I’ve been parched with thirst and unable to quench it. Too long I’ve been starving to death and haven’t died. I feel nothing – not the wind on my face nor the spray of the sea, nor the warmth of a woman’s flesh.
You best start believing in ghost stories Miss Turner . You’re in one!
Bonus: How to recognize Gonzo Writing?
Think of the definition. Using an unconventional, exaggerated, and highly subjective style, often when the reporter is part of the story