Finish the Fiction Story Contest - Week #35 - @bananafish

Pirate Hunters
by @theironfelix

Boots calmly walked towards an open window-hatch, a bottle of rum is lowered down onto the sill. Upon the placement, the pirate places his scarred-induced hands on his wailing back and pushes.

“Argh! Me back be free of this wretched ache! Well, guess I learned a lesson: take a break when the Cap’n says so. Welp, time to rest...”

Taking his cue, the sill creaked in annoyance as the pirate’s body self-inquired the best resting position while perched on a sill. With a hairy arm supporting his night-colored beard, he spent his leisure-time mentally capturing the seas itself. There the familiar specs of white dots danced about the blue sky; he gasped before slowly releasing the captured air, he remembered how deep in the seven seas the ship was. With the mind returning to boredom, his eyes scanned under the blue sky.

“Ah poor ship, how these blue, blue, waves harass yah. I can hear yer wails, but I judge not. And even when the harassment be over, the aches only then take over; yet only can I respond with ‘such is life’... Huh, what be a ship in these waters be doing here? Where’s me spotting scope!”

The boots thus began a chaotic dance recital; the arms took the center stage as it flailed around to uncover the hidden telescope. As the telescope may have enjoyed the scene, it soon squeaked loud upon the firm clasp on its metallic skin. The pirate returned to the window-hatch and his arms stretched the telescope wide-wards. Eyeing in on the odd element, his eyes darted around to find any friendly symbol but soon froze.

“Oh me Flyin’ Dutchman! We’ve been tracked! Hey ho! Sound the alarm, pirate hunters come and in full-mast they set sail towards us!”

Whatever wail the ship can ever muster, the cacophonies of a hundred bodies darting around alone had easily drowned out such sorrows. The pirate unsheathed his sword, the sun’s naïve light touched and bounced off the sword. Sheathing his sword, he unholstered his flintlocks and his arms helped his eyes scan such. Cocking and holstering them, his body emerged from his room and joined in the traffic of the workplace as pirate bodies shuffled and kicked around to ready on their position. Albeit the humidity would’ve granted a hasty rest through stroke, the adrenalin surging about the bodies had protected them from unwanted advances of humidity.

Finally getting to the deck, he about-faced and attempted advancing towards the Captain’s spot. However, the Captain echoed:

“Brace!”

And the pirate mass dropped dead and clung hard to any support they could find; as soon the ship screeched thanks the holes formed from the steel cannon-shots who mercilessly ripped through her. With that, the pirate mass resumed its circuitry and soon he met with the Captain; he screamed:

“Madame! I’m here, let me take over the steering and yah the commandin’!”

“Finally yer here, Wither! Please, they be gainin’ too much ground. So steer us towards oure enemy! And when we get close, steer us parallel to their starboard side and avoid portside! Today, I must accept my bounty and let them hath none of it!”

“Cap’n oh Cap’n! Are yah mad?”

“Mad? No! Blimey, avoid their hull Wither!”

My Entry:

Wither took control of the wheel doing as commanded.

The Captain courageously marched toward the bow of the ship.

All the pirates aboard knew what to do in this situation. They were salty veterans who viewed Davy Jones’ Locker as a place in Heaven.

The Captain raised her sword, pointing it at the Flying Dutchman and the setting sun on the horizon beyond it. A sea mist accompanied with a strong wind highlighted her feminine features; her beauty the charm that dazzled all gazing upon her spectacle.

Wither shook the spell of the Captain, remaining loyal to the order for mortal combat with those that wished to cage them.

The Flying Dutchman, filled with sailors faithful to Jesus and the rigors of the sea, had not seen a lady for many moons. Her crew paralyzed by the sight of the Captain possessing all the top qualities of her gender.

Even the Admiral of The Flying Dutchman found himself ill prepared for his encounter with the first female Captain, and stood with his mouth agape, holding his tea with pinky finger raised over a China saucer.

And as the Pirate Ship, and her crew, came abreast the starboard side of The Flying Dutchman, the Captain lowered her sword in a slicing motion yelling:

“Argh, let em ‘ave it scallywags!”

The Pirate Ship unleashed a broadside cutting through the hull of The Flying Dutchman, and as the two ships continued to pass each other, the mighty pirate hunters began to sink to their watery grave.

“We did it Cap’n!” Excalimed Wither from the wheel of the Pirate Ship that now cruised along the clear blue sea safe from danger.

All the pirates erupted in cheer.

“All right mates. We’ve had oure fun fer today. We now sail on fer thar’s loot on th’ dawn o’ a new day!” The Captain announced raising her sword again, pointing it at the sky.

“Argh Cap’n. We sail on wit’ ye. Fer if we find death then we die. Only if we find booty thar remains th’ hope o’ rum ‘n a beach nearby.” Wither said to himself turning the ship around to resume their earlier course.

Thank you,
Cyrus Emerson

Red Roses the audiobook for your consideration at the Voice Arts Awards (NYC), and the Grammys (LA). https://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Red-Roses-Audiobook/B07F2LWHPN

Red Roses narrated by Kira Omans
www.kiraomans.com

Red Roses music by Rike Luxx
www.rikeluxxbeats.com

Red Roses sound by Pond5
www.pond5.com

Also, available from The Author:

Fear and Loathing in the State of Jefferson - ebook
https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B079R5KLPN&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_GsURAbAVDYNEM

Lost Angel – Introduction with Ray Manzarek of The Doors
https://www.downpour.com/lost-angel?sp=249812