Traveler

Traveler

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Houses:

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy

Houses:

Summary

Beginning of a short story I'm working on.
Share :
Twitter

Summary

Beginning of a short story I'm working on.

Content

Submitted: February 12, 2017

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: February 12, 2017

A A A

A A A


Traveler
 

Those who had birthed with him, called him Marcel. Those who had known him young, called him Skip. But those who truly knew him, called him Traveler.


 

Out in the middle of the greatest ocean of them all, was a pearl necklace of islands. It used to be one big landmass. As big as a continent. But one day, long, long ago the giant volcano erupted in a catastrophic explosion. A massive crater was created, and the waters came to spill over the wreckage and save as much of the land that could be saved.

Hidden in a small cove, amid sparkling cool blue water, hunched a man fishing, his rolled up sleeves were still getting wet as he sifted around in the sands. Off in the distance a large black and white dog splashed away. The man pawed in the soft sand, tossing away the odd rock that he came upon. He straightened out, cracking his back with his arms and let the mid morning sun wash over him.

The man took a good long look around and began to walk closer to the shore where it was shallower. He kept his hands in his pockets, rummaging around with his feet instead. It felt very soothing on the bottom of his feet, and this man knew something about taking care of his transportation.

He moved along the shoreline, past the large cliff, he crossed over the small canal leading to a sand shoal, and meandered through the shallows on the other side. Still searching with his feet, the man stopped suddenly when it struck something promising. There was always a feeling of certainty when the man stumbled across what he was looking for, and this was it.

Uncaring for the damp sleeves, the man plunged his chest and knees into the water and began trying to roll a fairly sized stone. At last he heaved and the stone tumbled free, he wiped his head and noticed his friend had come over. The dog sat on the edge of the shoal happily panting. Returning to his task, the man clawed the sand away underneath the small crater until at last his hands sought the prize.

His’s hands broke the shining water and held forth a blue stone, blue as the deepest ocean water. But it wasn’t just deep blue, it seemed to move with the shallows themselves and specks of light floated across. Running past his dog, the man sprinted as fast as he could back to the main beach, all along clutching the blue stone in his hands, not even noticing his water logged clothes. At last he reached the beach and his few belongings; A pack to be carried on his back filled with all his necessities, his travel pouch, a waterskin, boots, well worn, but still sturdy, and of course his driftwood walking stick.

Grabbing the staff, the man placed the deep blue stone in a hollow in the top. The staff curled upwards like a twisted hand and cupped the blue stone securely. With a great big laugh the man sprang back out into the shallows, dragging his driftwood staff through the water beside him. When the water reached his shins, the man twirled around and swung the rosewood staff in a circle.

Dipping down, the dark hand pulled the water with it leaving a stream of liquid running all around the man. Bright blue streaks of water flashed all around him and sparkled in the morning sun. Ribbons that played on his every whim formed a globe of rushing water.

“Rufus!” The Traveler called. “Come here boy! I found another!”

The Traveler laughed and laughed, letting the water rush over him, while he danced in circles with Rufus, his white and black dog.


 


© Copyright 2017 Jacob Harroway. All rights reserved.

Booksie Spring 2017 Flash Fiction Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Jacob Harroway

Popular Tags