Fleet ‘The Broken Sea’
Tales from the edge of the morning sky
English - August 24, 2023 16:00 - 1 minute - 1.14 MBBooks Arts nature environment sustsainabilty earth seasons poetry pagan Homepage Download Apple Podcasts Google Podcasts Overcast Castro Pocket Casts RSS feed
‘John, John,’ she whispered again, ‘Are we there yet?’
He turned and looked out across the fleet, beyond the skies and to the edge of his world. Quietly he whispered back
‘Almost my love, almost, take me back, take me back to the storm once again.
And all at once, the sky seemed to seethe and darken.
As if the world had been shaken, held in the grasp of ferocious hands, the view shattered into thunderous rain. There was no difference between the clash and roar of the bar of rounded stones and the hardness of pebbles, as the sea mightily pounded in gusts of grey and steel against the broken beach.
He held her tight. Gasping for breath as she tried to free herself from him, break free and run. Run madly, crazily, into the wind that threatened to hurl them both like rag dolls into the open jaws of a screaming sky.
They could both see it. Against the horizon.Like a splattered fly against the glass. A ship leaning over. Sails torn and flapping. Figures like ants struggling to right the ship that was threatening to capsize as it rolled down and along great walls of waves and sinking reflections of a raging, simmering, sky.
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