“Get moving ye land lovers,” the pirate barks from the bow of the ship.
The salty sea air blows through his long brown hair. He resonates freedom like a frequency dancing through the air and picked up by everyone in his presence. He tosses a can of coca cola over the side into the foamy sea and turns, stumbling, as a wave crashes up against the side of the ship. Correcting his stance he heads below. The crew follow shortly after.
He assumes his position in the captain's chair, flicks a couple of switches and punches a button gripping his microphone, his eye twinkling with rebellion.
The satellite dish groans as it adjusts its position and the large antenna fixed to the crows nest buzzes to life. The lights in the recording room flicker on and the captain speaks into the microphone.
“This is Pirate Radio, 1967. Happy New Year to all you scallawags. Here's the best tunes across the seven seas."
The crew start to play. They strum, drum and sing in perfect sync producing song after song, each one better than the last.
Then, over the radar, the pirate captain spots a flashing red dot approaching. He finishes the broadcast and grabs a phone. He shouts over the intercom, “The enforcers are coming for our gear! Put on your disguises and hide the equipment. If we do-” but it is already too late.
The Enforcers pilot their ship up next to the pirates' ship and drop their gangplank.
“Put your hands in the air!” orders the first enforcer.
“Do not move!” shouts the second.
They wear navy blue shirts, dark blue pants and shiny black leather shoes. Each enforcer has slicked-down hair.
“Did you have to ruin our fun?” jokes the captain.
“Stop right now!” commands the second enforcer.
The enforcers draw their guns. The crew draw their instruments.
“I heard rock music melts your brain!” warns the third enforcer.
“It's devil’s music!” agrees the second.
The music begins. It is so loud and obscene that the enforcers are forced back to their ship and they quickly speed away.
But, just as the enforcers are pulling away, the captain notices one of the younger enforcers throwing back his hair and tapping his foot with a twinkle in his eye. Barely noticeable from a distance but it was there. He’d caught the bug.
By Oscar P, Mt Pleasant School
This clever story was Highly Commended in the Year 5&6 section of our "What Year is It?" competition for Write On Issue 55: Time Travel.
NB: Oscar gave permission for some small edits.
Copyright: Oscar P and Write On 2020