Villainous, Infamous

APRIL 2025

The moonless sky is littered with stars. They reflect upon the surface of the sea, illuminating the calm waters. Boats and ships sit silently at the docks, unoccupied. No sails can be seen on the dark horizon, the sea at peace on the surface.

A silhouette of a woman is barely visible, standing at the end of the docks, looking out towards the waters. It is unknown how long she’s been standing there.

Seconds pass.

Minutes pass.

The silhouette moves, heading back towards the land. And, soon, the light of the lamp posts shine down upon her.

Ornate medieval gothic clothing coats her lean body. Bouncy curls reach her shoulders, the color of red-brown. Her pale cheeks are littered in freckles. Red stains her lips. Piercing green eyes stare forward, her walk feminine and full of confidence.

She approaches the late-night bar, echoes of the excitement inside subtly entering her ears.

Her expression smug and a smirk slowly forming, she strolls in like she owns the place.

Although the building is completely modernized on the outside, its interior design resembles a medieval tavern. The spacious room is filled with occupied tables, the roars of the celebrating men drowning out the voices of the waitresses attending to them.

Everyone is dressed similarly to her, albeit more simple; Amazon quality compared to her self-made attire.

While the men remain hollering as they drink their beer varieties, they’ve set their sights on her, the only woman who has come here to enjoy herself instead of serving the very men ogling her.

Because even in this century, women still undergo unwanted gazes.

With a roll of her eyes, she heads for the back where the few vacant seats remain. As she passes by, numerous men catcall her, as expected from all the previous leering. She ignores them to the best of her ability.

Once seated, she glimpses through the menu and immediately picks out everything she wants; finger foods, like bread and cheese, and red wine. She may or may not flirtatiously winked at the waitress taking her order, who may or may not have returned said wink with a radiant smile.

Lord, help her; women are beautiful creatures.

For a hot minute, everything goes well as she awaits the arrival of her meal and alcoholic beverage. But, of course, given where she’s at, it had only been a matter of time before things soured.

And they certainly have become sour.

A few of the men leering earlier on have approached her table to continue the ogling. And then some.

Unfortunately, with dressing like pirates (medieval, actually, but all of them look more like they should be sailing the seas, herself included) comes talking like one. Stereotypically.

“Avast, me beauty of a booty!”

Perhaps worse than the stereotypical phrases is the mildly degrading pick-up lines.

“I’d love to drop anchor in your lagoon.”

“Would ya mind if I fired me cannon through your porthole?”

“Blow me down?”

She waits for them to finish firing their crappy words of sexual harassment before finally speaking.

“I see you’ve all been on talklikeapirate.com,” she comments, looking smug when they briefly show shame in their expressions. “How unoriginal of you.”

“Ye aren’t talking sense, lass.”

“Aye, this be why no woman sails our seas.”

She rolls her eyes. “Typical.” She leans against the table, planting her elbows and resting her chin on her fists. “That’s how pirates talk in Hollywood. News flash, it’s a made-up stereotype to make films more interesting. In reality, they talk no differently than we do.” She eyes them up and down. “Outside of cliché costumes, at least.”

“...Really?”

“Really. And I hate to burst your bubbles, but women did, in fact, sail the seas. Men like Blackbeard aren’t the only pirate legends,” she continues.

All of the men scoff, not believing her.

“Oh, that’s just sad. And you call yourselves pirates,” she sarcastically pouts. “Grace O'Malley. Zheng Yi Sao. Mary Read." She does a little smirk, twisting one of her curls. "Anne Bonny. I believe the legend of her is told the most out of them all."

“Who?”

From the corner of her eye, she sees her waitress approaching slowly, only for her to stop nearby to eavesdrop. In her grasp is bread, cheese, and wine; the order.

She tsks, leaning back against her chair. “Anne Bonny. A she-wolf who reigned in the Caribbean Sea with her cutlass and pistol.” She tells the tale summarized, deciding these men didn’t deserve the full story. “She fell in love with a pirate. They loved each other in secret for nearly a year.” She smirks to herself at the thought. “The crew learnt the truth, eventually, but all ended well for the lovely Anne Bonny.”

Surprisingly, the men look slightly intrigued.

“Then, Mary Read, a female pirate I mentioned before, joined their crew. Together, they terrorised the sea, a buccaneering team,” she continues. “Unfortunately, Anne was only a pirate for roughly two years, as towards the end of 1720, the crew was captured and sentenced to be hanged. All but Anne perished. No one knows what became of her; she was never hanged. Legend says she escaped and lived well into her eighties, something quite unheard of for pirates.”

The men stay quiet as the tale ends. She expects rude remarks, angry retorts, denial of the girl bosses. She gets none of it.

Instead, something a bit weird happens.

They hit each other on the arm, uttering words she cannot hear. As they walk away, at least they have the decency to look ashamed of themselves to some degree. She must’ve embarrassed them with her knowledge of female pirates. There’s no other explanation.

With the men gone, the waitress finally steps forward with the meal, placing it on the table.

“Thank you, dearie,” she says to the woman, winking flirtatiously. “Did you enjoy the tale?”

The waitress blushes. “Is it true? Were they real?”

“Very much so,” she answers truthfully. “And there’s likely a few I failed to outright name.”

“That’s amazing. It’s a shame it was such a short tale, though,” the waitress comments. “But I suppose that’s normal when it’s about a woman, especially from way back when.”

“While that tends to be the case, there’s more but those naughty bastards didn’t deserve to hear it,” she says with a smug smile. “If you wish to know the story to its fullest, the tale of the villainous, infamous pirate queen, you may join me.”

The waitress looks excited. “My shift ends soon, so I just might take you up on that offer.”

“How delightful.”

She smiles to herself as the waitress walks away, subtly checking her out. Shortly thereafter, within fifteen minutes, the waitress returns.

And so begins the retelling of “The Legend of Anne Bonny”.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way the story is written doesn’t matter. Professional, simple, perfect, sloppy. What matters most is that the story is being retold again for those who may have never heard of her.

Plus, Karliene is a lovely singer who deserves some more subscribers. She didn’t/doesn’t just write/sing songs for/about Anne Bonny. She also has songs about witches, middle-earth, Anne Boleyn, and others.

I hope you stay tuned for the parts to come. This is going to be quite the experience.