Time, wind, water – all enemies of a cliff like this, made of sandstone – a soft rock rife with ancient seashells. Living nearby means living a watchful life, waiting for the next big storm and wondering what will still be standing come morning.
A big thanks to Sandra Crook for her lovely photo this week!
Word count: 100
Of Sand and Civility
When had boys gotten so rude? Mabel dumped her sodden bags and shrugged off her Shetland sweater, rain drops beading up on the wool.
Once, they’d have helped her up. Kicking her groceries was brutish to say the least. The world was a different place today. Back then, they’d watch her walk by with a sparkle in their eye. Today, she was old as the hills and almost as decrepit.
The rain beat a pattern on her roof, wind kicking up along the strand. Mabel gazed wistfully at the sentinel down the beach, as she readied for the next storm.
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© Erin Leary