A random bit of fiction I wrote for a magazine which was not used

In the late 1970s, I was working as a freelance photographer and had a stint for many years touring the Pacific islands. I was working on an ill-fated photo journal of how the islands had changed since modern civilization had set on their shores. I met a lot of unforgettable characters in my travels, but nothing would compare to the feisty Queen of Pearl Island, known by some as "Pip."

Pearl Island is not on most maps, nor it is included as part of French Polynesia or any other surrounding waters. It's a small island, off the better traveled currents, with a lazy lifestyle not uncommon to such places. Most of the people there are still living off the land, but there is a place for visitors to gather known only as "the pub," or "Monkey Pub" because of a stuffed monkey near the front door. Here one could find some of the most illegal hooch and engage in barter and trade away from prying eyes of the law.

Of course, such a place would seem to be a haven for drug runners, and many have tried to take over this island and her sparse population. But the legendary island queen keeps the peace. There have been many tales of her tight rule and her amazing strength and fierce warrior nature. I had already heard a few stories about an older woman with amazing strength, red hair striped with parrot feathers, and Maori tattoos. But until I landed my sloop in the harbor of Pearl Island in the summer of 1977, I had assumed many of them were tales exaggerated at her expense.

( My first encounter was shortly after my sailboat docked in the peaceful harbor )

Last night, I wrote more for no reason than to let it out. Again, because people say not to toss such things, here's a "background story" for you to like. This will go nowhere. Reminder, this is fiction, and I have no idea where these stories come from.

( My sister-in-law's secret )