Fleet ‘Focus’
Tales from the edge of the morning sky
English - September 08, 2023 04:00 - 1 minute - 1 MBBooks Arts nature environment sustsainabilty earth seasons poetry pagan Homepage Download Apple Podcasts Google Podcasts Overcast Castro Pocket Casts RSS feed
She turned and for what seemed like an eternity she looked through him, the ghost of himself, back to the other place and time from where he thought he was from.
He could feel her bringing him into focus. He gaze like a lens bringing firmness and purpose to his own. Slowly, so slowly it seemed, her eyes recognised him. The distance of place and time fell away.
He was with her.At last by her side.
She beckoned to him. Her face turning from recognition, to hope, then madness, just as the storm itself. He lifted his eyes with hers, followed her pointing arm, beyond the thrashing waves and the wild frothing mouths of horses and out to the torn and broken sea.
With a great lurch and crash of timbers, a ripping and tearing of what seemed the very fabric of place and time, the ship crashed, rolled and roared, resting amongst the gales and scream of tide and wind upon the ragged rocks.
They held each other as the sailors jumped into the teeth of drowning waves and turmoil.
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