From Nowhere

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


The second short story based on the same cover picture.

Submitted: September 26, 2017

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Submitted: September 26, 2017

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From Nowhere

It was wet, drizzly, when he set out. But when was it not? There always seemed to be a damp mist if not a full drizzle. No point in worrying about it; get kitted out against the elements and set off out to sea.

Not too far out but far enough to be able to get some good fishing in. It seemed that with each passing year he had to sail out that bit further to get any kind of catch at all. It was not any easy life for a solo fisherman now, but his needs were few and he’d get by.

The mist and rain carried on, drenching him through to the skin in spite of his waterproof clothing. Maybe the cold kept him distracted or maybe it really did suddenly roll in. The sky was black, full of the thundercloud that turned everything a threatening purple hue. The waves started to lift and drop, churning and chopping, making it hard for him to maintain any control over his course.

Within minutes the rain started to pour from the sky and the wind whipped and buffeted. The first roll of thunder and he gritted his teeth. The lightning split the sky and hit the sea, but it was a good way further out. If he could just keep sailing steadily forward he’d beat it to dry land; but the churning tide was doing everything in its power to hold him back from reaching that shore.

The rain lashed against him, feeling unseasonably cold, like shards of ice. He could barely feel his fingers now and winter was still several months away. Maybe it was time to quit, give up the waves and the freedom of the sea. She was becoming too cruel a mistress and he was not sure he had the strength to cope with the tempestuousness of her temper any longer.

Louder still, the thunder boomed. He could almost see where the lightning hit the water’s surface. The sea itself seemed to sizzle and hiss as it splashed in to his small boat and out the other side. It was getting lower in the water now, his boat. How long before he’d have to start bailing out, or worse still, abandon ship and strike out for shore, just himself and the sea.

Off course a bit, the cliffs with the new house come into view. Nowhere to land there but if he can just head a bit to the left he’ll make land, just about. At least it gives him some hope, with it’s lights shining out like some welcoming beacon. If he can just hang on that small bit longer....

The waves crash against the rocks of the cliff, sending up spray to join the lashing rain and to soak him even more. He can feel the water trickling down his skin as it makes its way inside his clothes. A vision of his boat splintering as it is bashed against that wall of rock flashes before his eyes, making him catch his breath. But it’s alright, the sea will not take him, not tonight.

The boat is in shallow water now. Somehow he manages to find the energy to jump out, thigh deep into the sea, and pull the boat up to the small piece of dryish ground still left. He’ll have to tie it to the mooring post. His fingers fumble with the rope, becoming entangled with each other as he tries to force the rope up, through and around, making it somehow secure.

A few minutes of stumbling and he’s at his door, then indoors. There is no fire, should be no need for one yet, but he’ll turn on the electric heater. The water will take a while to get hot enough for a bath but getting out of his sodden clothes will help. Pulling on dry pants, a dry sweater, he sits by the heater and waits. He listens to the storm, now fading in to the distance, and ponders on whether he’ll venture out to sea again.


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