That of Which Sea Legends are Made

She traded it all for a silver kiss, the kind that legends claim arise from the bed of the sea, no less than once every century or so – and never at any other time than on a midsummer’s night under the iridescent glow of a cobalt moon as it crests the harbor’s horizon. She didn’t know all this, though, and hadn’t planned on being there for that reason at all.

She’d sat there awhile, listening to the water lapping at the rocky ledge, dreaming of her younger years when she’d played along the shoreline. The cries she’d heard thereafter were no longer the gulls that had once accompanied her from overhead. Rather, they were the resonating remnants of innocence lost…dreams forsaken…hopes drowned…love scorned.

When she’d arrived home early, she’d delighted in the idea of surprising him. The thought of sneaking up from the sandy side of their beach cottage a day earlier than he’d expected her, of slipping through the laundry door that he always forgot to latch after walking along the sea banks, of sliding her evening-cooled hands around his warm torso from behind – these had made her fantasy as rich as the day they’d first found this abandoned shack and worked together to transform it into their personal paradise. Then and there, they had determined they would forever bask in the warmth of its sun and bathe in the glow of its moonlight.

She couldn’t wait to recapture that magic.

The horror of what she’d instead encountered had been too much to take – most especially since he hadn’t bothered coming to search her out, to even try to provide some lame excuse that might persuade her to reconsider.

Entering the depths became easy after that. Too easy. Answering the siren’s call had been peaceful, like the faded cry of the gulls, her final sobs of resignation. As the last breath of air escaped her, being swept up in the tide and carried away by a son of Neptune to some distant shore had surely not been a viable expectation.

Okay, so perhaps she wasn’t actually enraptured by any legendary god-like merman from the ocean’s floor. And, quite possibly, the shore down the coastline wasn’t really all that distant, after all. But the captain of the fishing vessel, The Silver Triton, who had stayed out later than he’d intended that evening, surely got himself a better catch than he’d ever expected when he spotted and rescued her from the depths of despair on that mystically moonlit night.

Sweet dreams, -jody

________________________________________________________________________________

Roses are Red
Violets are Blue
NaPoWriMo is Over
Whatever Will I Do?

Oh, I’ve got it! I’ll stop in & drop off a little story at the Speakeasy, sans rhymes! Maybe you’ll find it to still have a little poetic justice attached.

If you’re not familiar with the Speakeasy, it comes with a picture prompt and a first line prompt (from the prior week’s winner). You can see the picture above and I’ll bet you can even guess the 1st line! “She traded it all for a silver kiss.” (by Megan, winner of thespeakeasy #106)

The rest is up to the writer’s imagination! Feel free to come join us with your own silver-tongued imaginative version in 600 words or less. 🙂  -jody

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