Split Light #WhatPegmanSaw

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Lee was the last lighthouse keeper and that thought weighed heavy on his heart. He had been in the job for thirty-seven years and had come to the end of the era. There wasn’t much need for a beam of light to circle the bay now there was all that technology mapping on the ships.

Lee felt quite sad about that but maybe the lighthouse would get a new lease of life. There was talking about turning it into a museum and allowing the public scenic views from the top. And perhaps, he could return as a volunteer? Wouldn’t that be great to give visitors tours and share his stories.

 

(Inspired by; https://whatpegmansaw.com/2020/03/14/silver-bay-minnesota/ with thanks).

 

 

Waiting

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I couldn’t sleep, so I lit a lantern and went to the beach. The sea was calming itself down after the storm, the dwindling swell was lower on the cliffs. The sound was powerful still, reminding me of the dangerous of being here.

I walked along the edge, picking my way but my feet knew all the right places to step. I had been walking this path since birth. In the pool of light, I could see seaweed and shells on the edges of rock pools.

The lighthouse, way out in the bay was flashing it’s beam and when that light came by it helped aid me. I hoped it was aiding other people too.

Stopping, I held my lantern high and looked out as far as I could. Somewhere out on that surging sea were my husband and oldest surviving son.

Their fishing boat had been gone for over two months and I couldn’t bear the worry anymore. What could I do though? It was woman’s curse to bear this waiting, this unknowing and the grieve of loss.

The sea brushed against my bare feet. I returned home and held my other children tightly whilst I wept.

 

The Rising Sea

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Oliver peered nervously out of the window and saw a sea wave crashing over the wall and on to the road outside his house.

The white foam tops of the waves clouded the air and sea spray mingled with the falling rain. The sea roared with an untameable lust that deafened everything nearby, only challenged by booming thunder.

The weather forecast had said it was going to bad on the coasts and flooding were likely. Of course, Oliver had prepared with sandbags at the doors and low windows. Most of his furniture was stacked upstairs and his car was parked up at Raven’s Edge cliff carpark.

Oliver thought that he should have stayed with his car because it was safer but he would have been fretting too much about his house being flooded.

Listening to the sea bashing about as the wild wind stirred the waves up and rain poured down, Oliver realised it was too late to do anything else. He would just have to hope that the sea didn’t rise anymore and his house didn’t flood.

Mermaid #3LineTales

three line tales, week 212: a mermaid sitting on a rock in the ocean during golden hour

Nineve raised her face to the sunset, enjoying the last warmth.

The sea lapped around the rocky out crop she sat upon, calling her back beneath the waves where she belonged.

Nineve looked down at her fishy tail, glittering multi-coloured scales and wondered what it would be like to have legs.

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2020/02/20/three-line-tales-week-212/ with thanks).

Sand Turtles #WWP

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He did his art on the beach. Moving the sand into shapes from his imagination and memories. He liked fantasy and animal sculptures the best but sometimes he expanded out into food or historic places.

Today, he created two turtles swimming out of a small sand pile. He took a photo, a reminder not to duplicate the piece. Then he left his art behind for people to admire before the sea came to claim the sand back again.

 

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/02/15/weekend-writing-prompt-144-sculpture/

Sea Mist #FFftPP

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Cati looked for a place to sit. A soft, almost invisible drizzle was falling, masked by mist that hung above the sea and cliffs. From up here, the view was like a window onto nature.

Cati rested on a rough rock. She was wearing waterproofs and covered in beads of water. She took off the hiking bag and searched for her thermal of tea and packet of trail mix.

Having heard rustling, Teddy, a Bernese mountain dog, appeared. He was big, fluffy with a tricolour coat and looked like his name. He loved exploring and walking as much as Cati did which made them best friends.

Cati give Teddy some dried chicken and poured him a bowl of water. Then, she drank tea and ate her snack. Wondering if she should make camp early, Cati packed up. The weather didn’t seem to be clearing and cliffs, like mountains, shouldn’t be walked at night.

‘Let’s go,’ Cati said and rubbed Teddy’s head.

They continued hiking; Cati looking for a sheltered spot and Teddy tracking rabbits. Soon, she found a place under tall pine trees and the sea, rain and a campfire became the background to their evening.

 

(Inspired by; https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2020/01/24/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2020-week-04/ with thanks).

 

Bones

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Her bones lay on the beach, rusting under sun and sea. Long had she sailed across the waters until that fateful night had brought her to this grave. Wedged keel in sand, hull full of water, tilting to port side, going nowhere.

She had become scrap and a new home for seagulls. Sinking further into the sand, waves rocked her still and she slept, dreaming of days out in the ocean with a crew scampering upon her decks.

Years later, she awoke to a new job; a sight-seers’ object. To be admired and wondered over. Hands touched what only the sea had done and life came back into the old bones once more.

Winter Sea

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People loved the sea and they loved coming to see it but most of them didn’t stay so only a few knew what it was like to live on the coastline during winter. And it wasn’t all just ‘look at how the sea is raging and how flooded the harbour is!’

It was a dangerous time of year and I having spent my whole life in a Cornwall fishing town knew it well. We had been flooded, power failures, cliffs had fallen to the sea, people had drowned in riptides or huge waves, boats had been dashed like rotten wood on rocks and the harbour warning bells were always ringing.

From my attic bedroom as I lay in my bed trying to sleep, I didn’t need to look out of the wind to see that a storm was beginning. I could hear the wind like the blades of a helicopter whipping everything it could pull up into a tornado. What sounded like a tree branch bumped along the roof then was gone.

The rain hammered on the slates like men breaking stones in the quarry a few miles away. The windows rattled, dripping and water stained. There was a knocking as hailstones joined in, the ice chips bouncing away as they hit.

The sea was making the most noise as if in competition with everything else. All that separated my house from the sea was a road and a wall. I could clearly hear the waves bashing the flood defences and trying to climb the wall.

Wondering if we would be flooded, I rolled over and tried to sleep again. It wasn’t the storm keeping me awake, I was use to the weather. It wasn’t the night light casting multi-coloured stars on to the ceiling and wall, that was meant to help. No, it was my phobia of the dark.

Nyctophobia, it was called. I was on a never ending cycle of things to try and help me or cure me. It came and went, some months were easier, sometimes of the week were better then other but winter was the hardest to get through. It was dark for most of the day and my mind was never at rest from the fear of what might be waiting in that darkness.

Giving up sleeping, I turned the light and read my book. It was strange but I loved horror stories and true horror things. I liked reading about the supernatural, ghosts were one of my favourite subjects – fact or fiction. Tonight, though I was reading about true witches starting from the earliest historical records to now-ish.

Of course, I realise how ironic this is because loving horror and being afraid of the dark don’t go together! Some people said that reading and watching horror themed things was the cause of my problems but there was more to it then that. It wasn’t that I believed the things in the horror books and films could be waiting in the darkness to grab me, it was more that in the dark you didn’t know what was truly there.

The dark made you think something was something else, objects had hidden depths, people looked different and sounds were also changed. I knew there were no real monsters out there, just humans who became like them. Perhaps, there were ghosts but I believed they weren’t like the fiction stories said.

I read and read, sometimes dozing off then reading back a paragraph until it grew light outside.

Free at last, I wrapped up warm and went outside, despite the storm. Everything lashed around me; the wind, the rain, the sea, it was like a surge of nature at war with just me.

I went to the wall and looked down. The sea was high, over the rock breakers and every wave was splashing over the wall top. It wouldn’t be long till sea water was pooling across the road.

Salt stung my eyes and water coated me. The wind buffeted me and I couldn’t stay long. I walked along stopping when a wave came over, not that getting wet by it would make me any drier!

My head cleared, my fears left and I felt easier. Not much was open in town partly due to it being Sunday, not tourist season and the storm. I passed a few cafes, an arcade and bingo hall, shops who’s shutters rattled like teeth. I went to the harbour and watched the boats riding the sea like a roller coaster.

 

 

Christmas Elsewhere #3LineTales

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Irene hadn’t wanted to spent a wet Christmas at home, alone and falling asleep during the Queen’s Speech.

She decided to book a holiday and go on an adventure package holiday, she was still fit enough and didn’t feel her old age, though people were referring to her as ‘old lady’ now.

The first day involved getting into a warm sea and swimming with sharks, ‘What a way to spend Christmas!’ Irene uttered as she felt a fin brush her toes.

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2019/12/19/three-line-tales-week-203/ with thanks).

Isle Of Pigs #3LineTales

three line tales, week 199: a pig swimming in the ocean

I laughed when I first heard the stories; a island full of pigs that liked to swim in the sea? It was a mad man’s fantasy!

To prove it, my husband took me out there. We sat in the boat, waiting and I giggled every now and then, of course we weren’t going to see pigs swimming in the sea, there was more chance of seeing them flying!

Then from the tree covered shore they come, down onto the yellow sand and into the blue sea, pigs of every colour and size, swimming towards us!

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2019/11/21/three-line-tales-week-199/ with thanks).

(Just in Case you don’t believe me; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pig_Beach)