On a Ship Named the Huntress Collection

Written by Charli Mills

Charli Mills, a born buckaroo, makes literary art accessible at CarrotRanch.com. She writes about the veteran spouse experience and women forgotten to history.

December 3, 2023

Welcome to Carrot Ranch Literary Community where creative writers from around the world and across genres gather to write 99-word stories. A collection of prompted 99-word stories reads like literary anthropology. Diverse perspectives become part of a collaboration.

We welcome encouraging comments. You can follow writers who link their blogs or social media.

Those published at Carrot Ranch are The Congress of Rough Writers.

Pomegranate by Liz Husebye Hartmann

The Huntress’ narrow prow cuts through darkness
The only sound a plashing single paddle.
Destination known, she’s grateful to see nothing
Below the river’s surface.
Prepared, yes, but she wants to go slowly,
Like seepage down a cell wall.


The boat jerks, grabbed from beneath
By those who would steer her elsewhere.
She keeps her course.
Hours pass.


At last the shore,
A pale line of sun that never rises here.
The Huntress scrapes on black pebbles.
A skeletal hand holds out a red, tufted fruit,
Torn open, revealing its dripping scarlet interior.


Her mouth reaches, accepts its finality.


The Journey by Dianne Borowski

They came with guns during the night. We were shackled and sold to the highest bidder. I was young. They took us to a ship. It was large with six sails.

“It’s the Huntress,” mumbled an older man. It’s a slave ship.”

We were chained at the ankles to one another. Water and food were scarce. Many did not survive. Their bodies were thrown into the ocean like trash. We arrived at our destination, Jamestown, in 1619. I was purchased by a wealthy landowner and worked for many years. I still remember the Huntress and my heart’s still broken.


The Huntress by Joanne Fisher

Anne looked through her spyglass. The ship was definitely following them.

“It’s another pirate ship, and it’s stalking us.” Anne told her bosun. “I’ve seen it before in Port Royal. I think it’s The Huntress.”

“Good name for a pirate ship. Do you think they intend to attack?” The Bosun asked.

“Yes. They must have watched us attack that Spanish galleon and know our hold is now full of booty.” Anne replied.

“So what do we do, Captain?”

“Let them come and try to take it off us. I’m sure we can give them a few surprises.”

“Aye, Captain!”


Huntress at Sea by Duane L Herrmann

Huntress found her prey, a pirate, rogue, and plague of the seas. This rogue flew no flag of anyone but itself. It had no honor, no scruples recognizable to civilized persons. It took galleon Huntress years of searching and vexations before finally cornering the pirate in its lair, a secluded, hidden cove of an uninhabited island where no one sailed. Hidden beyond and inland from the bay was their place, the one they thought impenetrable and secure, but with satellite imagery and a drone the secrets were found. The intel was broadcast back centuries to the Huntress for success.


Escaping the Rat Race by Sue Spitulnik

The handsome couple took ownership of the forty-five-foot sailboat. The salesman asked, “Have you picked a name.”

The husband responded, “The Huntress.”

The wife raised an eyebrow. “I know a sailboat is a chick magnet. You better not be hunting babes with this.”

“Considering neither one of us can handle our baby alone and the decision to leave the life of schedules and live on her was a mutual dream, my sweet, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about.”

“Then what are we hunting?”

“Peace, good food, and drink at any port we dock in.”



Captain Miller by Michael Fishman

Dusk was Captain Miller’s favorite time of day. Soil and atmosphere testing completed, maintenance logged, and Earth transmissions finalized. The bridge was quiet. Gilbert was off doing whatever he did, leaving Miller alone at the Huntress’ conn watching the hypnotic, green-swirling horizon.

“What the—” Miller leaned forward focusing on the black smudge on the horizon. He increased the magnification and the smudge crystallized into what looked like a military battalion speeding toward the Huntress.

The explosion rocked the ship.

A breathless Gilbert was at his side and Miller began the launch sequence.


“Johnny? Dinnertime!”

“Be right there, mom!”


The Missing Huntress by Charli Mills

“Jim, go see about the Huntress.”

Young Jim abandoned the tally marks on his slate. “Yes, Uncle Zeb.” Grabbing his wool coat and cap, he didn’t need to be asked twice to exchange inventory in a dim cellar for the bustling activity outside. Trade had returned to Portland, Maine following the Napoleonic Wars. Excitement stirred, but a vessel was overdue.

“And, Jim, take your time. Listen.”

Jim nodded. Uncle Zeb often said a successful merchant let others do the talking. Most folks ignored nine-year-old boys. They’d be talking at the wharves. One day, Jim vowed he’d be successful, too.


The Huntress by Ann Edall-Robson


“Yes Mazie.”

“You know those books you have, to find out stuff, because you don’t have a computer.”

“The encyclopedias are in the living room. Help yourself.”

“Umm. Lexie and I are wondering if you can help us.”
A look of excitement and mischief danced in their eyes. Pulling Gran with them into the other room, they explained about the flag and name the boys had for their raft. They wanted a girl flag and name for theirs. Their squeals said it all. The flag would have an arrow. The ship’s name, Huntress, because they were girl hunters.


Njord and Skadi by Kerry E.B. Black

Though their divergent personalities doomed their marriage, Njord held his one-time giantess bride Skadi in esteem. He couldn’t melt her cold determination and stony resolve to remain in the mountains with her craggy kin.

On a sunny shoreline, Njord encouraged his followers to craft dragon-prowed ships. He braided gold into his beard to reflect his lofty intentions. He’d lead a raiding party from his ship named for his huntress bride.

They fought and returned home, laden with riches and thrilling tales. At feasts, Vikings raised horns of mead, but Njord listened for Skadi’s wolves and longed for the impossible.


Black Friday by Hugh W. Roberts

Amidst the chaos of Black Friday, a different kind of frenzy unfolded at the bustling harbour.

The “Huntress,” a magnificent ship, emerged as the ultimate deal. Legend whispered of hidden bargains aboard, drawing crowds like magnets.

At midday, eager shoppers transformed into intrepid adventurers, storming the gangplank in pursuit of discounts and the allure of maritime mystery.

The ship creaked and groaned, a vessel caught between commerce and legend.

Black Friday bargains blended with the salty sea breeze, creating unforgettable chapters in retail history as the Huntress sailed into what remained of Black Friday, laden with goods and dreams.


Images as a Child by Mario Milizia

Growing up, Kurt had a fascination with pirate ships, building elaborate models complete with sails.

After serving on a sail training vessel the previous summer, an opening appeared for a Tall Ship named the Huntress. He applied. The ship was chartered to search the Caribbean Sea floor for ship wrecks.

The fourth day out of port, three speedboats approached firing AK-47 machineguns. With no Coast Guard around, they were boarded.

They tied up the crew and escaped with $11,000 from the ship’s safe. The Huntress returned to port. Disillusioned, Kurt quit and threw all the model pirate ships away.


Portland POV, His by D. Avery

I don’t read, but I hear this ship is called Huntress. I call my wife Huntress sometimes, our private joke. She isn’t one of the white folks in town called Huntress. She’s Penobscot, and can hunt up something to eat better than anyone.
As I roll cask after cask of molasses from the ship to the wharf my thoughts are constant as the waves lapping the pilings. I wonder What does this Huntress prey on? The auction house in Kittery is closed now. Slavery has been outlawed here. Naked Africans aren’t in the hold.

But the rum trade continues.


Portland POV, Hers by D. Avery

Neither of us had many options in this town, but he’s a good man. Though I shake my head when he says his family’s been here longer than most of the whites because his grandfather, a Cape Verdean, came with the cod fishermen; shake my head when he says he’s a free man.

Who is free when the blood and bodies of trees choke the rivers?

The trees become barrel staves, shipped to where our ancestors, his and mine, were taken, where our people are still enslaved.

His “Huntress” makes maple sugar, the cost of molasses being too dear.


Clara’s Visions (Part I) by JulesPaige

The geese that migrate could not see the haunted Huntress. Clara had inherited her Gram’s sensitivity to seeing what others could not. From the top of the lighthouse the young teen watched as the Huntress came closer to the rocky shore. And then just vanished when there should have been a horrid crash. Ever since she could walk Clara herself hunted the shoreline for artifacts. She had a secret corner in the old Victorian’s home’s basement where her grandfather had stored several empty chests. Clara had slowly filled them with her finds. Which she believed came from the ship.


Clara’s Visions (Part II) by JulesPaige

Even after the Coast Guard took over most of the lighthouse duties, Clara visited the lighthouse so often that she became a volunteer docent at 16. Being a trusted local she was given her own key and was able to visit off season pretty much whenever she wanted.

Clara searched the coast for clues. The best times were after storms. Without the gaggles of tourists that came to visit the lighthouse. Only when she had solid proof would she take her collection to the local maritime museum. The internet and local maritime museum had limited information about the Huntress.


Clara’s Visions (Part III) by JulesPaige

Clara hoped to find some remnant with initials that belonged to Edward T. Shearman who had mastered the Huntress. Or even something from one of the owners George Shearman who was killed by a whale on June 22, 1845. Clara imagined meeting up with George… walking in the sand and having his ghost point out where to dig. That would really be helpful. Just give up one pocket watch, would you please; ocean!

keeping their distance
the ghosts of the Huntress were
still drawn to the light

that beacon from the lighthouse
tried to guide those lost souls home


Planning For Growth by Geoff Le Pard

Little Tittweaking is the only place in the UK currently without planning laws. This is not to stimulate growth but to encourage eccentricity. Abe Elsemen, for instance has recently finished his conversion of 24 Railway Cuttings from a two up, two down mid-terrace peddle-dash, into a fully rigged three masted Man o’war. The chatterati wonder why Abe has named his house-warship ‘Huntress’. The reason becomes clear when Abe reveals the figurehead – a blonde, be-pigtailed Brunhild – and changes the name to Hun-Tress.

Little Tittweaking’s Prussian Embassy has launched a protest; as the figure has two plaits, it should be Hun-Tressess.


Depth of Wisdom by Reena Saxena

Unusual is the ship without a destination. But her name is Huntress, and her tracks will change along with her prey.

The treasures that lie in unreachable depths of the ocean mock her bravado.

You are only imagining what lies here. You know nothing about underwater life.

“I’m on a mission to know”.

Brace yourself for unfathomable secrets, for parallels do not exist in your world. If you are an aspiring visitor, not willing to migrate -I urge you to go back. The depths of wisdom have swallowed intellectuals on a quest, for it made their starting point irrelevant.


What The Squirrel and I Witnessed by Bill Engleson

The park trail leads to a pond.

As usual I am deep in thought.

Worldly thoughts.

I live on the other side of the park ? the twenty-second floor.

No balcony.

The windows do not open

The park is my salvation.

My bench is empty.

A squirrel is hunkered down on one end.

My squirrel.

He seems to be watching the boy.

Five, maybe six.

There’s an adult eagle-eyed on the child.

The boy pushes his replica ship away from shore.

“Don’t let the Huntress slip away, Willie. I’m not getting wet.”

Unfortunately, that small, tall ship has sailed.


H&H’s Bounty by D. Avery

“Hundred? Shorty fin’ly give us one more word?”

“Pal, ya gotta git yer hearin looked at.”


“Said, Huntress! Not hundred.”

“Jeez. Ain’t gotta yell, Kid.”

“An it’s gotta have a ship!”

“Now yer swearin? Course I give a sh*t, Kid, but figger ya could use better language.”

“See ya, Pal. I’d slam the door but ya wouldn’t hear it.

“Why, who’s that a-kayakin on the beaver pond? Helga and Hess!

“Hey! Haw ya doin?”

“We set sail!”

“For Carrot Ranch!”

“In our double kayak.”

“Called The Huntress.”

“Watcha huntin?”


“Reckon they’s plenny here ta float yer boat.”


Thank you to all our writers who contributed to this week’s collection!

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  1. D. Avery @shiftnshake

    Good stuff! I like how you gave Jim Mills a plausible voice, Charli. Bravo to all who sailed with this challenging prompt, into all the directions it led. It has made for good reading!

    Charli, I thought I’d submitted this one from some old friends, but it is entirely possible that I did not. I didn’t post it at my site, but this follows a flash in the once upon a time collection.

    Call Her Ilene by D. Avery

    “No way, Ilene! You never fished more than me.”
    “Oh, yeah, Marge. Loved fishing. There was a beaver pond I’d go to, wasn’t very big or deep, but a great fishing spot. Great, except for the Huntress.”
    “The Huntress?”
    “The biggest, meanest snapping turtle you never want to meet. One time she rammed my rowboat, knocking me into the water. I’d almost hauled myself back in when, Chomp! She bit my leg off. After recuperating and getting fit with a prosthetic I foolishly went back.”
    “Did the Huntress attack you again?”
    “Beaver. My first prosthetic was a wooden peg-leg.”

    • Liz H-H

      There ya go…there’s always something. ????

  2. Mr. Ohh's Sideways View

    These got a lot of insperation I like them ????????????

  3. Jules

    Oh, boy….I came huntin’ stories and found a bunch to hoot about!
    Enchanting, engaging, and entertaining.

    Thanks everyone!!

  4. Charli Mills

    Thanks for sharing!


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