Flash Fiction Friday: Salt Wind and Bones

Wednesday was a holiday here in Canada, plus I got a bit distracted with the start of Camp NaNoWriMo, which is why Drabble Wednesday was absent this week. But here is Flash Fiction Friday, with a short sea tale.

Salt Wind and Bones

The frame of the small ship creaked as it tossed on the waters, salty brine splashing over its decks and through the rotten cracks of its wood. It lay heavy in the seas, its bowels drowning slowly. Wind blew the ship aimlessly, catching its sails with capricious whims, and whispering silent words to the sun-bleached skulls of the long dead crew.
A lingering sigh greeted the sea’s breeze, and a figure draped in translucent white–ethereal as the morning fog—drifted across the deck. Her black locks flowed down her back, salty and damp, and she walked from stern to bow; a sentinel forever treading her doomed fate. She clung to the world that abandoned her, drifting among the bones, keeping watch. Hoping one day, they would find home…

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