My Queen

      The waves crashed along the shore of the deserted beach. Slamming into the rotting wood of a ship stranded in the sand. It was long since deserted, seaweed hanging off the bow, the green lichen and the khaki sand sticking to the vessel. The sun was high, and the clouds were scarce to none.

           The only sounds came from the sea and the sky. The crashing of waves and the call of birds. And farther up the beach, the sounds of a jungle. Iguanas scurrying away, a jaguar on the prowl for its next meal, the boars fighting one another for food. But that was all so distant. So far away.

           “How long since…”

           Two women, nothing amongst the forces of the beach, made their way from the jungle down to the sand.

           “Well,” said the other, “over three decades. At least.”

           “Three decades?”

           “Aye.”

           One of the women stared out at the shipwrecked vessel, memories flowing back of a hectic time. A dangerous time. Her youth. She carefully navigated herself down the slope and onto the beach to get a closer look. Her lover following close behind, her breath seeming so loud. “It was a shame that he-”

           “Aye,” her lover cut her off, then passed her so she was in front. “But I’d rather have him at the bottom of the sea than walk amongst the living.”

           “Aye…” For a moment, the women stood still, and she admired the woman in front of her. Her short greying hair gently swaying thanks to the sea, the scars on the back of her neck from countless brawls, both drunk and sober. How, even though she no longer had to, she wore men’s clothing, worn and patterns faded through time.

           She placed a gentle hand on her lovers’ shoulder, getting a good look at her aging face. “How did I ever mistake you for a man, Harper?”

           Harper laughed, and the woman almost pulled her hand away, if not for her lovers relaxed muscles. “I managed to trick Captain Fisc, his crew, those inbred kings...” Harper looked at the source of her desires. “You.”

           At that deadpan she shoved her aging lover. “You almost killed me!”

           But Harper was quick, despite her age and caught herself before she could take a tumble. “You were the one who challenged me, my dear.”

She scoffed and smiled. “Who else would defend poor Radcliff’s honor?”

“Anne Keats would.”

“Ack-”

She remembered that day. When Harper insulted Radcliff so badly that the poor lad could no longer speak. But that was a long time ago, when they were young, when they forced themselves to believe they were men. She challenged Harper to a duel, and just before either of them pulled the trigger on their pistols they saw the truth.

The memory of that day would replay in Anne’s mind for the rest of her life. How business as usual turned into a realization and gaining a new friend. They were teenagers back then, young things, pretty things. Deadly things. Pirates who went around, taking what they want, when they wanted it. The only man they respected, Captain Fisc, was still healthy then.

Harper adjusted her waistcoat and turned away from the wreck and the sea. “Come Anne, let’s go back.”

Before Anne could argue Harper was making her way back up the dune and into the jungle. Anne lifted the bottom of her dress and followed her lady love back to their home. Through the jungle they retreaded, careful of any stalking predators or possible invader. Even after all this time, Anne still carried a pair of pistols on her everywhere she went. While citizens may forget, governments do not forget. Pirates do not forget.

Through bush and past waterfall, they traveled. Holding out their hands to one another as they walk atop boulders in rivers. Quickly paying respects to Radcliff as they passed his jungle grave. And as they emerged to the other side, it felt as though they hadn’t woken up before dawn to see the shipwreck. The village before them, if one could call it a village, was bustling with pirates. Old comrades and new ones, sharpening swords and cleaning their pistols. Moving crates of stolen sugar and drinking so much that their bodies were run by alcohol.

Anne took the lead, strutting as she walked down the dirt path. Most ignoring the old woman and her flowing grey hair. The women from the brothel saying hello to the older woman in red. All turning away from Harpers deadly glare. Harper sped up and slipped her hand into Anne’s, holding on like her love would disappear if she let go.

The long-haired woman didn’t stop but shot a confused glance. “What is it?”

“A woman cannot hold another woman’s hand?”

“You never hold my hand,” Anne deadpanned, making a left.

But Harpers grip held firm. “I have and I do.”

“Aye.” Anne nodded. “When we are alone.”

The couple passed a few more buildings before they came across a stone pathway. With no thought to it they went up the path, shadows of the trees going on and off their faces. The further up the path they went the better they saw it, the estate that marks the island as their own. And as they approached the archway that marked the beginning of the property, they saw a group of young pirates messing around, but scattered as soon as the older couple caught their keen eyes.

           Passing underneath the archway Harper pulled forwards, almost dragging her love behind her. Entering the one floor building and slamming the door behind them, and everything was quiet. Truly quiet. Not like the beach where the sounds of waves and wind echoed in their minds. No, this was true silence. Still and dead. The dust blown by the door slamming shut danced in the rays of sunlight cascaded through the windows.

           Hands still locked together the former pirates entered their home, stolen, like everything else they owned. “When Fisc lost his mind,” Harper started as they entered their former base of operations, “we all started grabbing at whatever we could get our hands on. Tessie and the Reverend took Stormbreaker, Foster took all of Fisc’s clothes, while Charlie and Willis took control of the fleet.”

           As they entered, they were greeted with a portrait on the wall in the very end of the room. They looked so young then, when Anne's hair was still blond and beautiful and Harpers scars were still fresh on her skin. “But I,” Harper continued, stopping and taking both of her love’s hands in her own, “took this island. A place of our own, here, where we rule.”

           For a moment Anne swore she saw a flash of a young Harper. Like they had this conversation many years before in the exact same place when they were only teenagers. It made her feel like she never aged a day. “Of course, my queen.”