This week’s photo prompt is provided by Barb CT of the blog, Gallimaufry. Thank you Barb!
The waters lie still as a pond. The skelton of a whale – sunbleached, picked clean of meat – hangs from a worm-eaten pier, the wind sighing low and woody between the ribs. The splash of oars echoes from dock to hills, across the open sea.
‘This was a bad idea,’ whispers Con.
Jesse puts a finger to his lips. Soon they’ll be safely out the other side.
The boat rocks. Then again, harder this time, throwing Con off his seat, the oar from his hand which slips away, almost out of reach, heading for the deep black. He lunges, scrabbles, catches it with his fingertips.
A smile splits his face. ‘Always lucky – ‘
The water cracks in two, the prow of the dinghy tipping into the abyss. Con claws at the wood, ropes tangled round his legs, tying him to the boat. Jesse grabs for him, Con’s fingers slipping through his.
A deafening roar.
The waters lie still as a pond.