This week’s prompt: ‘Tomorrow when the sun will rise, who knows what the tide could bring.’
TREASURE FROM THE TIDE
Each morning eight-year-old Aran, his mahogany skin warmed by the sun, trekked to the shore to greet his best friend. The brilliant blue of the water delighted him, and as the waves danced and frolicked on their way to the beach, Aran waited eagerly for them to spill onto the sand at his feet so that he could dance with them.
After splashing in the tide to his heart’s content, he then hurried to the small cave set into the rocky cliff overlooking the beach, where he kept his stash of sea-polished rocks. Daily, he scoured the beach, collecting new ones, always anticipating some special treasure that he was sure, one day, would be deposited on this tiny island by this best of friends, the ocean.
Today he’d found that gift. But what was it? Coral? It didn’t feel like coral. It wasn’t quite hard enough. He examined it closely, his nimble fingers tracing the scores of tiny hollows that formed a pattern and offered a mystery.
He carried it home at lunch time to show his mom and Grandfather. “What is it, Poppy?” he’d asked Grandfather. He knew Poppy had traveled to distant lands many years ago, and he would surely know what this beautiful treasure was.
“It’s a wasps’ nest,” was the rep!y, and then, because the island had no wasps, Poppy had to explain about the insects and how they built their homes.
Fascinated by Poppy’s words, Aran held the delicate structure close. Here it was! His anticipated treasure from another world! His connection with people and adventures that were beyond his ocean! He would treasure this gift … keep it safe … and some day … some day he would set off from this tiny island that had been his home for eight years, and – carried in the arms of his best friend – he would discover the rest of the world for himself.
I wish I could stand right now at the edge of the sea,
It’s salty breath a warm caress,
It’s rhythmic waves – roll on roll –
That surge my way, then break abruptly,
Tame and playful, licking my feet.
The sight, the sound, the scent – they beckon me:
I wish I could stand right now at the edge of the sea.
(Thanks to my sister Brenda Calvert for the great photo.
To be completely honest, I dislike orange very much. But it is, after all, a legitimate color, and I found loads of it in my photos just waiting for its share of attention. So here’s my offering.
Well, I guess orange is okay — as long as it’s in small doses.
I have met several poets in the WordPress community who are masters at haiku. Gilly Goldsworthy at Lucid Gypsy is one of those people. And Dennis Lange, The Bard on the Hill, has created his own unique version of haiku and does beautiful work with it. The form has never been one of my strong points, but I do really enjoy experimenting with it. I got lots of fun out of this assignment, partly because once I got started thinking about all the different kinds of water, I couldn’t decide which kind to write about. So I just posted three totally different takes on the subject. Hope my visitors enjoy them.
I am a raindrop.
Sea mist rising gave me birth.
Now I’m headed home.
Beck’ning mud puddle:
As magnet’s force compels iron,
So it draws children.
(I can’t decide which of the two versions I like better, so I’ll let readers decide for themselves)
SEA OF LOVE
Well it does feel good to get back in the saddle with Friday Fictioneers. I have been a little swamped with other work the past couple months and have missed out on the fun. But this week I am going to have even more fun than usual because not only have I written a story in response to the challenge, but I have also invited the students in my current creative writing class to participate along with me.
Unfortunately, most of those students have not had the time to submit something for this week’s prompt (I keep them too busy writing for the class), but two students have joined me. The first submission is a 100-word story from Jo Boester, who is a new blogger here on WordPress. (You will find her blog at this link: http://jboester.wordpress.com/).
The second submission is a 100-word poem from Erin Campbell. Now, Erin actually submitted this poem for another challenge we took part in, but when I looked at the picture for this week and saw the connection with the ocean, I took it upon myself to encourage her to let her poem apply to FF’s as well. She writes of tide and time from a unique perspective, and I think it’s a fitting response to the challenge.
I’m very proud of both of these writers and look forward to seeing them pursue their writing goals and publish more of their work in the near future.
Last of all, you will find my story. I was just in the mood for romance this week, and although seagulls seem to be the main focus of the photo, my mind and heart were captured by the beach itself and the romantic interlude it inspired. Hope you enjoy what we have to offer.
Here’s the photo prompt, which comes to us from E. A. Wicklund at http://momusnews.wordpress.com/
THE LONELY SEAGULL
by Jo Boester
As I walked on the beach early one morning, I spied a seagull ahead of me, sluggishly wading in the water. The closer I came to him the more I could sense his loneliness. When I drew closer, I saw another seagull circling overhead.
The seagull in flight was slowly closing the gap between them, and as he swooped down, they both spread their wings wide in greeting. Some observers might have thought this was an act of aggression, but I believe it was a way of avoiding being alone for another long day. I wondered: “Do the birds, as well as man, desire companionship?”
© 2013 Jo Boester
by Erin Campbell
A rock is my island.
The rock is my throne,
where I sat and watched
as the world turned to dust.
A thousand years of progress
swirls around me like
a cloak around my shoulders.
It caresses my cheek and settles in
my eyes and hair like a crown
as the wind bellows at its loss.
Tides rise and wash the ages onto
sallow shores, leaving broken shell
memories behind in their wake.
I am the only one to keep them close.
The island grows as I grow.
Loved and feared by nothing.
A ruler of ashes, I command ghosts.
© 2013 Erin Campbell
by Sandra Conner
They sauntered along the isolated beach, shoes in hand, just as the sun slipped into the ocean.
Stopping at an outcropping of rocks, Jonah leaned against the rockface, pulling Valentina against him. Her eyes sought his, instantly identifying the fire that turned them to wine. “I thought I’d never get you to myself,” he growled softly as her arms encircled his back.
He tightened his hold, burrowing his right hand in her hair, pulling her closer. Nibbling and teasing her lips, he finally possessed them with a hunger she’d come to crave. She felt the melting begin and eagerly surrendered.
Join the fun. Get the details over at Rochelle’s place:
When I think of the sea, I think of how it seems to call me, and how I could literally sit for hours and hours on end watching it and feeling one with it.
Beguiles me so:
Its hue, its scent, its song,
Its movements that caress my soul.
© 2013 Sandra Conner
Take part in the fun. Get the directions HERE.
When I think of the sea, I think of my novel Racing Toward the Light, primarily because it was a painting of the sea by internationally renowned artist Steven Sundram that inspired the story. A print of his painting was a gift to me from some friends, and the very day I received it, I was so drawn into the aura and mystery of that painting that I couldn’t resist putting my feelings into words. Those words became the setting for the novel, and I virtually lived in that painting for the whole three months that it took to write the book.
Steven’s painting is the focus of both the front and back covers of the book. You can find many more examples of his excellent and inspiring work on his website.
You can find the book at the publisher’s website: St. Ellen Press.
Take part in the fun. Get directions HERE.
Well, Friday Fictioneers is rapidly becoming a habit. There are such wonderful writers out there who take part in this challenge. It’s an honor to be able to work with them on the same material each week, and it’s a privilege to see how wide and far-reaching the creativity can be when so many talented people look at the same photograph and set their imaginations free.
Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields is the hostess of this challenge, and if you’d like to join in the fun, you can find out all about it at her site: http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/25-january-2013/
Now on to the challenge for this week: The photo is the work of Renee Homan Heath and is copyrighted to her. You will find my story below the photo.
A PLACE THAT KNEW HIM
This weathered boardwalk felt familiar to him. So familiar that his feet tread the boards firmly and deliberately, as if they knew exactly where he was going and what he’d find at the end.
Yes … he definitely felt he was headed for a place he knew – a place that knew him.
He stopped beneath the palm, scanning the white beach, enjoying the way the turquoise waves teasingly caressed it. Yes … familiar ….
Just a dozen more steps now … and he would remember. He knew it. All the memories he’d been futilely chasing since the accident would coalesce at this shoreline.
He would remember!
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