PHOTO CREDIT - G.L. MacMillan
PHOTO CREDIT – G.L. MacMillan
Since he was a child, Damon spent his summers at the cottage wading along the surf, collecting bottles washed up on shore. He wrote elaborate chronicles of their journey, instilled in them a history to dignify their existence as cast-offs. 

“I kept every story,” Myriam said, weeping.

“They became increasingly sullen over the years,” whispered Harold.

The opening lines from their son’s final story, published posthumously after his death by suicide:

A boy, cast away at sea like an empty bottle, drifted for years in search of land. He became a man among the lonely depths; the darkness having claimed his life before his weathered body was found.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This has been an installment of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. If you would like to give the challenge a try, start at Rochelle’s Purple Blog and join the fun.

Here’s the concept: A weekly picture is posted, and the writer is challenged to produce one-hundred (more or less) words of some sort of fiction with a complete plot (beginning, middle and end).

5 comments on “A Life at Sea

  1. Kind of grim. Good story.

  2. And did he cast those parables back out to sea in the bottles too for another to find? Nicely put together. You’ll find my contribution here: http://womanontheedgeofreality.com/2015/08/02/friday-fictioneers-ten-green-bottles/

  3. Dear Edmund,

    Poignant story. Nicely done.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

  4. Very sad. Maybe he called for help, but no one understood.

  5. micklively

    Clever analogy.

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