Picture courtesy of Georgia Koch
Stark picture, this boat has seen better days. I am convinced something grim happened here.
Word count: 100
The wind was at his back heading out of the bay. Coming home against the tide, every pull on the oars made his muscles burn and the relentless friction opened up his palms.
Carrying the remains of this latest plague out to sea and dumping them far from shore had to be done. And he seemed to be immune so far.
He’d thought about scuttling the boat several times and going down with the lost. His mother once called him an eternal optimist; he wished she were around to help buoy his spirits today.
Seagulls shrieked and circled overhead. Almost home.
© Erin Leary
To see other Friday Fictioneers, please visit here.