Art:Author's Author Deathmatch/Shorts winners

(Almost) Any Pirate Captain ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
As the Dread Pirate Captain Bartholemew le Blood stumped on his pegleg across the battered and bloody wooden deck of his sloop "Dead Men's Fortune's," casually stepping over the moaning piles of wounded sailors, nodding in approval at the burning hulk of the plundered Spanish plate galleon sinking behind them in their wake, watching the sweaty, unwashed pirates still alive and able after the battle wrestling the heavy chests of Spanish gold and jewels down into the hold (stopping occasionally to say "Arrr!" or pay their respects to the Captain and his green parrot, Polly Want Gold), and inspecting the rows of iron cannon that not an hour ago had battered their prey into submission, the Captain finally decided what the source of his irritation and lack of satisfaction was: he was a stereotype.

A Familiar Dilemma ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Death came in the guise of a parrot.

A Light Snack ~ Nanofiction
It was a clear day at sea when I spied my captain scurrying along the rails of our sloop, wildly chattering "Albatross, albatross! Lucky day!" towards the empty blue. The first mate sidled up to me, scritching his head. "Wotcher think, Stu?" he squeaked, pulling contemplatively on his months-long growth of whiskers. Just then an enormous bird swooped down and snapped up the captain in one gulp, and was gone again before we could blink. "I think," I said, pulling my long tail out of the albatross' sight, "Cheddar factory foremouse sounds good right about now!"

A Pirate's Heart For Me ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
The problem with falling in love with a pirate, thought Jim, is that your life expectancy takes a dramatic hit, not simply for the association with bloodthirsty vagabonds, but from the cutlass that accompanies her vicious mood swings.

A Pointed Situation ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Captain Larson dared not even swallow, for fear the movement of his muscles might dislodge the saber pressed to his throat.

Aboard the Crimson Corsair ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
I still feel a cold shiver run along my spine when my thoughts stray to the moment I first laid eyes on the Crimson Raider – straining at her mooring ropes as if anxious to seek adventure, sails rustling in the salty breeze, stately masts lifted high toward the heavens, brass gleaming in the radiant morning light; her crew scurrying about singing merrily as they worked, as if she were something other than some old funeral barge shrouded in decay, waiting to ferry her ghastly crew on their final voyage; but I get ahead of myself – that was before I’d secured a berth amongst her buccaneering crew, before I’d met captain Baltizar, before I’d discovered the truth she was hiding.

Angels Fall ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
The lights of Tortuga shone down upon one of the most dazzling, deadly pirates to curse the Spanish Main, Marie LaSalle; daughter of a French Baron and siren of Port Royal, the russet-haired scourge who roamed the high seas seducing privateers, sinking galleons, slaughtering many a seaman, now hanging limp and lifeless from the weathered wooden gibbet.

Chapter One: A Disconcerting Afternoon ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
"Doesn't it just figure," thought Varekai as she slogged through waist-deep bile and bits of discarded bulwhark, scimitar held aloft, "we can map the seven seas, but no one's yet charted the fourth stomach of a Kraken."

Checkmate ~ Nanofiction
Ajax watched as his captain’s bishop slashed through his defenses. “Traps within traps, my boy, that’s how it’s done,” the ancient pirate crowed, quaffing the drink that a trembling cabin boy presented. The ship rocked, shaking the ivory pieces on the board slightly as Ajax intently studied the board. “You forgot something, old man. Checkmate.” His adversary paused, the smug grin on his complexion giving way to a confused frown. Reaching for his king, he managed a “No it isn—“ before he slumped, succumbing to his drink’s poison.

Darkness Falls ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
It was a dark and stormy night, and out of the darkness a small, creaky ship sailed, riddled with holes; its mast creaking, and the soft drone of a sea shanty coming out of the belly of the vessel.

Dead in the Water ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Dammit, the cabin boy was right.

DeathMatch! ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
A battered frigate limped around the rocky headland, sails in tatters, sides gaping with holes, and every pirate on her yearning for a swig of rum.

Different from the other bots ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Lazy Kari had questioned her motives many times before (being a bot with all able stats had given her plenty of time to think), and always came back to the same conclusion : she put up with the numerous puzzle challenges at the Multiplicative Tables Inn just so she could watch how the other bots behaved (it didn't hurt that Happy Robert was quite the looker).

Dream Deferred ~ Nanofiction
He surveyed the deck, a tremble in his hand. “We had such grand plans,” he whispered to the evening air. The mainmast was shattered, the sail torn to ribbons, flapping endlessly in the breeze. “But what will happen to them now?” A creak rang out from behind him, and he spun around, heart pounding. Slowly, painfully, another man dragged himself across the deck, sword still in hand. “You’ve killed our plans, captain. It’s all over. But me, I’ve got one more plan…”

Four and Twenty Blackbeards ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Captain Quagmire wasn't bothered by the pink color of the rum or the giant squid sitting on the foredeck, but when he heard the entire crew singing "Sing a Song of Six-Pence" in unison, he knew that this was going to be a rough voyage.

He caught my hand in a vice-like grip, inches away... ~ Nanofiction
He caught my hand in a vice-like grip, inches away from his purse. I looked up, startled. I’m very good at my trade - this situation was entirely new to me. “I’m hiring for the Farquestor, and need someone with your… skills. Unless you’d prefer being handed over to the Watch?” I shook my head mutely. “I thought not,” he said. “There’s one thing, might change your mind… we fly the Jolly Roger.” The blood drained from my face as I stared up at him. He smiled slowly, and the light glinted off a gold tooth. “Pirates!” I gasped.

Menacing Storm ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
To the crew on deck, the thick fog drifting in was tranquil and serene, but to Captain Abaco it was the misty head of a monster whose eyes flashed danger, whose breath bore the acrid stench of death, and whose voice whispered "you're next."

Mutiny! ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
I took a deep breath and offered up prayers to Poseidon as I heard the captain shout, "Haul away!" and the rope jerked taut around my ankles, plunging me into the briney deep, bumping me along the bottom of the ship.

Needlepoint ~ Nanofiction
Eyes burning, Jack launched himself at the giant of a man directing their foes. The lumbering bear and the lithe cat soon moved like dancers through the melee, their blades flashing in an intricate choreography. But Jack’s footwork eventually faltered, and he found himself looking at his death. Suddenly a knife materialized in his adversary’s stomach, leaving little time for wonderment before being joined by one in the heart and another in the neck. Leaping to his feet, Jack raised his sword in a silent salute to where his captain stood, his belt of knives three short.

Octopi ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
"I've never seen anyone do that with an octopus," said the first-mate.

Piracy and Pink Lipstick ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Most who think about the golden age of piracy might bring to mind images of men with wooden legs or eye patches, holding parrots aboard sailing ships flying black flags, but for myself, the thought of pirates leads me on a reminiscent journey to a picture of a slightly dented '53 Chevy wagon and a girl with hot pink lipstick and a contagious laugh, which just might have never stuck in my mind had I not been to the end of the world and back with her.

Pirates! ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Through the gathering gloom of a late-October afternoon, along the greasy, cracked paving-stones slick from the sputum of the sky, Stanley wearily trudged up the hill from the cemetery where his wife, sister, brother, and three children were all buried, and forced open the door of his decaying shack, blissfully unaware of the catastrophe that was soon to devastate his life.

Safe Haven ~ Nanofiction
The sky was dark, and the water darker, as the lone boat slowly headed to port. It had been an exhausting day, with many battles fought, but now only one pair of eyes wearily searched for a safe haven. Only one heartbeat sounded. The boat, (battered and beaten much like its captain) was riding low on the water, weighed down by its heavy burden. Both man and boat seemed to sigh as the solitary dock finally came into view. Carefully picking his way across the deck littered with bodies, the fisherman knew this was his best catch yet.

Scurvy's Cure ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
It was a time when great sailing ships ruled the high seas -- frigates and brigs as grand and massive as islands in their own right, with crews so diverse as to seem like mini cities upon these islands, ruled by learned captains who frequently disputed how best to equip their ships for many months spent at sea, among the most pitched arguments being whether straight rum, grog, or swill most efficiently kept the unruly crews happy, and which of these complemented that happiness with health -- for everyone knew that the dread disease scurvy might be but an ill wind away, and that what was found in a ship's wooden casks might mean the difference between a successful pirate pillage and a miserable puke-fest, and arguments such as "rum is the best -- it goes straight to the bloodstream" fell on deaf ears to those who believed "grog has the highest concentration of vitamin C," which was further set aside by the inevitable clincher, "swill is the cheapest;" thus the debate raged on, through blockades and brigands and kraken attacks and sword fights, until one man stepped forward with an idea that was to forever alter the nature of these arguments -- nay, indeed, the nature of pirating itself.

Shattered Peace ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Moonlight sparkled from the waves that rippled around a small sloop swaying gently at anchor in a quiet, peaceful harbour... a peace that was broken by the metallic sound of swords being drawn, the shattering of a cabin door, and the roar of a gloating voice shouting, "Ye'll not take another cargo from me, Garrison, ye thievin' bilge rat!"

Shipwrecked in No Man's Land ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
A cannon flared on the opposing ship, and I scarcely had time to throw myself on the deck before a kettle lodged itself in our mast.

Six Pounds to Glory ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
It was bitter cold, the wind like a driven nail, as the mighty ship pierced the blanket of fog, her crew anticipating the crack of cannon fire that would signal the arrival of war.

Sweet and Salty Victory! ~ Nanofiction
It was Dan's tenth straight attempt in the Jorvik Annual Husband-Wife Sloop Race. Though always in the top five, he never won and Rose made sure he remained painfully aware. Dan promised himself that this time would be different. As he and the other leaders rocketed past the final league point, Dan dropped just a bit of ballast to get the necessary speed to snatch the lead and victory. Winner at last! Now he need only go back and fish Rose out of the water.

The Captain has the helm. ~ Nanofiction
The Captain surveyed his ship, battered hat crusted with salty sea spray and eyes harshed into a narrow squint by years of brutal sunlight. He shook his stiff blue jacket and thud-clanked his wooden leg along the desk, followed by the reverent attention of the crew. He had decades of experience, an all-encompassing knowledge of the sea, and the respect and loyalty of all who sailed beneath him. Despite all this, as he took command of the helm he just couldn’t help humming the theme from “Popeye the Sailor Man”.

The Crimson Crew ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
The flaming sloop came careening down the side of the furious volcano pursued by a torrent of blazing hellfire...

The Hardest Lesson ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
Of all the lessons I've learned in life, the hardest had to be, "Never paint a ship yellow."

The Inheritance ~ Nanofiction
He was sad to learn that the Chest of Doubloons his pillaging father had left him was not, in fact, a pile of gold coins, but a disreputable inn. The only other part of his legacy was a parchment found on his father’s body when it washed ashore. He first thought it was a sailing chart until, looking closer, he saw it was a recipe. Fortunately, he soon realized that the combination of flat bread, tangy sauce, and sliced meat, while not resulting in mounds of doubloons, would instead mean he was destined to make many pizzas of fate.

The Naked Captain ~ Nanofiction
There was no particular reason why the captain was naked, at least no more than normal. Perhaps he enjoyed the sun on his bountiful piratey chest hair, perhaps it was the feeling of the breeze wrapping around his ankles, or, more than likely, the effect it had on the morale of our prey. There was something terrifying at the sight of a semi naked man wielding a cutless with abandon. There was also something deeply philosophical about it, but we forgot what that was.

The Smuggler ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
I glared at the hangman, eyes narrowed against the setting sun’s light, as he read aloud my sentence, but my mind could not focus on his words; instead, I was forced to relive the ultimate humiliation of the crime for which I had finally been brought to the gallows: smuggling bananas.

Today's New Hand Is Tomorrow's Old Salt ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
The newest officer begged for the twenty-seventh time to be allowed to navigate during the blockade and was rewarded with the admiral's bellow to put him in the brig, but his sudden elation only served to whet the keen edge of disappointment when he realized that his superior was referring, not to a ship of war, but to a small room and an iron lock.

“Murderous,” she whispered as she wept... ~ Bulwer-Lyttony
“Murderous,” she whispered as she wept, her voice lost by the howling wind carrying her words into the wailing storm, and it was so; the metal of her trembling hook was a rain-polished argent, a shimmering silver contrast against the clean whiteness of her richly heaving alabaster bosom and the welling crimson blood (drawn from the wicked uncaring tip of her hook drawing thin angles as jagged as her soul) which intermingled with her tears and the wind and rain and fell, spiraling, towards the deep dark ocean far below.