The death of Jesse


Image : Pixabay


Others are up ahead, a clump of black silhouettes, paled by a haze of sea spray.

I check my instinct to call Jesse to heel. Stupid dog’s too far away, closer to them than me. If I call they’ll see me.

There was a storm last night. Idiot! I stumbled from the shack just as the cold sun was lifting over the bay, only half awake, unprepared. If only I’d made coffee, got the stove going, sparked some brain cells to life. But the wood store was empty, the coffee jar too.

I watch Jesse for one second, two, as he jogs towards the hunched figures, his tail swinging. Only now do I notice wreckage littering the sands – a plastic bottle, half full of  something blue (shampoo? mouthwash?): sodden paper: a splash of red cloth, bright as spilt paint. The others will have been out all night scavenging for what’s left of the boat’s crew.

One last glimpse of golden fur and I turn back, walking fast, forcing myself not to run, not wanting to draw their attention. I sink my hands deep in my pockets, feel the bag I’d brought along to collect Jesse’s morning mess – a hangover of more civilised times.

Stumbling over a silver belt buckle, a boot with no laces, I hear Jesse bark, growl, yelp.

Poor Jesse. I bite my lip hard, blink away salt water.

I determine to find more coffee.

Not sure if it’s the hunched, hooded figure in the foreground that turned my thoughts to the dark side, or just the fact that I’m a miserabilist.  What do you think of when you see this picture? Is it more cheerful than the way my tale went?

As the Valentine’s Day rush of roses and desperate paramours is upon me, I find myself absent from the screen for a few days. So here’s a tale I penned a year ago.

Apologies to all who comment in the meantime – I shall reply once the madness is over.



13 thoughts on “The death of Jesse

  1. Dark, indeed, Lynn. I felt sorry for Jesse.
    I can see why – the hooded figure and the tone of the photo may have pulled you in that direction. Would my tale have been more cheerful? I don’t know; I may have written about the hooded figure and his dog wandering on the beach contemplating life… or contemplating doing something not so nice. It’s the photo. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I suppose there was something I found mildly unsettling about the sea spray, the distant clump of people, but the hunched figure particularly. Poor man’s probably just hunkered up against the cold!
      I felt sorry for Jesse too – but he’s helped our narrator live to see another day and taught him a lesson – don’t leave home until you’re fully awake!
      Thank you for reading 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You won’t find a cat defending you in a life or death situation. It’ll be ‘zombie apocalypse? Ah, well, you deal with that, I’m just gonna sit over here, looking superior while I lick my own bits.’ 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      1. It is, isn’t it? When your eye drifts to the back, where that huddle of people are, and the hooded dog walker, the sea spray … I was looking for a prompt and that jumped out at me. Looking forward to tomorrow’s 3LT 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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