Microfiction: On the beach

Yesterday’s Daily Post prompt that I didn’t have time to write.

Photo ©Mick Garrat

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She first saw him for what he was on the beach. Her handsome lover, the one who had wrapped his long fingers through the strings of her heart and played her such music she knew there would never be another. She watched him cross the silver sand, saw the silver glitter on the wave tips, the silver halo to his silhouette, and when he dived, it was with the slick, unthinking grace of a sea creature.

She watched until he broke water, impossibly far out, a dark head. Silence. The head dipped back into the waves and she held her breath. The ocean filled her thoughts, waves sliding like oil, bright bubbles bursting, the brilliance of coloured pebbles and the silent gems that live and lie beneath the surface of things.

She saw him, the sleek, dark length of him, twisting and dancing through the ocean currents, chasing the metal blue mackerel where the kelp curls and waves. She saw him at last for what he was, and her heart died, knowing she could never follow.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

3 thoughts on “Microfiction: On the beach”

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