The young woman stood barefoot in the sand, watching the approaching ship with horror. It was a large, creaky, terrifying vessel, and although the young woman couldn’t read, she did know what the flag meant. The black flag, with its tattered skull and crossbones, whipped violently in the hot summer wind.

Behind her, meticulously digging for roots at the base of a tree, were two parrots—identical bright green and yellow parrots the girl had seen born eight months earlier. They both momentarily glanced at the ship, unconcerned, and continued their quest for the juicy root.

The ship was far enough away that the young woman couldn’t yet hear the voices—but she felt the danger as the ship glided closer to shore.

In an instant, her paralysis broke, and she turned to the huts behind her and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Pirates!!”

Then, even louder, she croaked out a warning as she sprinted toward the huts.

“Run for your lives!!”

Like a cluster of army ants, the people in the huts began to scurry, carrying with them food and water and all their prized possessions. Shouts and curses and panic mingled together as the entire village disappeared into the jungle, as far away as they could from the dreaded pirate ship.

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**********

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The rain came to the Island early in the morning—a quick, nuclear blast of sleet and howling wind. The palm trees that lined the beach bended in protest, but when the storm was over they rose gallant and proud like they always did. The few beachcombers who had braved the wind and the early hour went scurrying for the safety of the cabanas; the young boys mending the sailboats chattered and laughed as lightning bolts shattered the stillness of the bay. Anxious crabs tap-danced across the cabana floor.

The rain crashed down upon the beach—and then, like a yo-yo yanked upwards by an eager child, it stopped. The clouds parted like a vaudeville dancer separating her fans, and the beach was once again bathed in sunlight.

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