I have been rather absorbed with the Olympics over the past few weeks and also been working on editing some short stories. I haven’t really been writing anything new so keeping in trend with my editing theme, this week’s Friday Fictioneers is an edit of a longer short story I did a while ago. It was a little rushed so please forgive any glaring errors.
Today during early dawn I watched the fisherman bring in their catch. The sea waters gently rippled on the shore and the backdrop of pink sky made me linger a while. I took a deep breath as the salty breeze caressed my face. You were nowhere to be seen, but you were everywhere. I could feel you playing with my hair, taste you on my lips and hear you whisper through the breaking waves. It’s been ten years since the storm, yet the vision of your empty boat crashing to shore still haunt me every time I wake.
The chilly air forces my hands into my coat pockets and I pull out a small oyster shell. As I rubbed it between my finger tips I realized I do not need you anymore, I do not even need a photo of you. All I need is a feeling, reminding me of that day you came into my life and the day you dived back into the sea.