The Waiting Water
As day wanes the ocean turns black. The brackish foam boils on the rocks. The sun sinks and its crimson rays leak from the horizon as from a wound.
There is something appalling about the sea. About its mystery. I believe it is evil.
My friends drink and laugh. They sunbathe. They sleep with each other and collect designer labels. They forget the waiting water.
I can no longer abide this. There are things one needs to understand.
I free my line. I push off. The blood is drained from the sky and the ocean takes me.
This is my response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt (for the uninitiated, the prompt is the photo up top). Check out the Fictioneers and a lot of great fiction at Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s blog — you won’t be disappointed!
Comments and criticism are welcome (along with links to your stories if you have them) below. (The inspiration for this, along with the idea of the ocean as “appalling” comes to you via Moby Dick, so let credit be given where credit is due).
Happy weekend everyone!