Serial # 1
By: Anne Bonny

The Iron Island

May 1^st, 1894
Anyone who’s no one knows about, and fears the Iron Island; orphans go in, but as far as we know, never come out (in most cases). And though the operative directional indicator in this context would be on, and not in, we don’t care—and yes, that’s the royal we—the royal pirate we!

Hard labor camps are one thing, but those are for criminals, evil men (the law hasn’t quite caught on to evil women yet)~!

The Iron Island is quite another prospect—a slow existence on the edge of death without all the immediate mercies of dying—that about says it.

The gender distinction doesn’t come in so much there either, although leastwise it determines the order and perpetrator of rape…and well, to be honest, the choices in that department make little difference in the end result, all of the adult inhabitants being putrifyingly ugly and rejected by the seduceable members of either sex on any and all occasions. The Iron Island, for all its other faults, is a regime and place that abuses males and females equally (this is aided and abetted by the fact that they are all children, with little brawl in their caterwaul, as it were—at least, not yet).

Have you ever lifted the same heavy object repeatedly for no apparent reason? Then you’d be accustomed to the rituals of the I.I., and if you were a grave digger, a whore or a scullery slave, you’d know the deal alright, too.

The island was an airtight operation, sanctified by a sanctified king, and thus untouchable in the political sense—but they didn’t reckon on Sally Firth, (who was another such entity, though entirely of her own choosing). Oh no, nor she on them, at first. But once she did, this legendary island lost a prime crew of insignificant rock lifters, pot scrubbers, cock suckers, and movers of earth (or more prosaically, dirt). And now Sally has 14 new children…no, not precisely. Scurvy dogs, pirates, every last one of ‘em, before a month was out—such was her power, such was her pain…yet she never sailed alone again.

This is their homage, their tale, the only legacy I could give them—I, Saboteur, first mate of the Bonny Sally, accomplice to the great escape of the most feared and wondered-at pirates of the new world seas…

I give you Sally Firth, and the former orphans of the Iron Island!

For everyone else, worry not–there’s plenty of gratuitous sex, nudity, thievery, bloody duels of rapier and pistol, roaringly drunken good times…oh, and the redeeming element of a mother’s love… for her 14 scurvy brats!

awwwww…

in the spirit of collaboration, allow me to extend an unprecedented invitation (only because, as implied, I’ve never tried it before!).  If you have a pirate character or a related personality floating around in your head, looking for a home…that’s one orphan I’d love to adopt!  if you’re determined to mine the profits, I promise to give you credit–but I’m just doing this for fun!  Send me a pirate, I’ll spin you a web…you won’t want to escape!

A.Bonny

P.S. In the spirit of old serials (which I love) I will be doling this gorgeous adventure out in pieces, just so you don’t overdose…it’s powerful stuff, you know ; )-

First installment will be soon–if the navy doesn’t catch me first (not likely!) bate your breath and wait–or don’t, but read it anyway, eh?  A good critic is a vocal one, verbalize your thoughts for me–keep in mind, ladies and gents (especially if you are indeed one of those, which I am not) this is not high brow literature…I’ve had mine lowered, it was giving me headaches!

Love you or leave you (how much rum do we have left?)

A. Bonny

wait for it….

Love

Anne Bonny’s biggest fan

-Edward Abbey

Moliere, The Misanthrope