Wendy paddled her kayak through the harbour. She was amazed at the cotillion of boats that were docked. So much money. So much energy tied up in one spot. She shook her head at a lifestyle she couldn't understand.
She felt giddy with the relaxation she felt just paddling using her own energy. Occasionally a fish would surface near her. Otters would paddle by paying little attention to her movements. The winds aided her movements and the sun warmed her soul.
As Wendy pushed her kayak towards the shore she thought, ”This is a great life. It can’t get better.”
The young boy sat on a rock outcropping throwing stones into the water where river met sea. He faced the natural harbor, monastery to his back. Fog, thick as a wool blanket all around. Low tide, complete silence.
Then muffled splashing, groans reached him. He’d heard tales of sea monsters, but never had visioned one. An evil head appeared, then a long neck stuck out of the brume. The boy leapt up.
The serpent became what it really was. A longboat, giant men, oars, shields. Running up the cliff pathway. “Norsemen!”, came his breathless yell.
First earthquakes, then fires obliterated their homes, stripping all but their memories. Ash choked their skies, their lungs.
The rains smothered the smoldering rubble and also their dreams of rebuilding. Landslides took what the firestorms left.
They arrived, seeking safe harbor. As if the floodgates were left open, cities flooded with refugees. Desperate, scared, angry. Their numbers stretched overburdened public services to a snapping point. Riots over scarce resources—clean water, food, a safe place to sleep—stripped the last of humanity and the cities fell.
The Perses Pandemic wiped out the suffering of many. So went the Great Changes.
Electo, Megara, Tisiphone. Three ancient Greek Furies. AKA, Erinyes. Means: “I hunt down.” Avengers. Born to pursue, to follow blood smell like hound dogs. They punish crimes against DIKE(human justice). A nation HARBORING a criminal could suffer disease, famine, plague, drought. Once discovered, no prayer, sacrifice, tears, could move the Furies concerned with crimes against the gods like perjury. A curse upon a nation lasts for generations. Names change.. The Furies become the Eumenides (gracious ones). But.miasma , “ There’s something rotten in Denmark..” A ritual purification and the completion of some task assigned for atonement. Not an inauguration.
Once again, rather than looking for the obvious, I went somewhere else...
He saw the light ahead and made his way for it. His only thought was food, and maybe some rest. He wasn't looking for trouble, he had enough of that. The escape hadn't gone the way he'd hoped it would. He thought he’d get a five hour head start before they realized he was gone; he got a half hour before the sirens started.
There was a sign above the door: SAFE HARBOUR. He pushed the door open, thinking whoever was inside would be too frightened to do anything. He heard the explosion of the shotgun above the wailing sirens.
What a treat … so many amazing stories to read over the coming week … AND, a lovely surprise to see my tattoo story make the cut. Thanks so much, Miguel.Looking forward to chatting soon.
The salt-water air suffused Dune’s tongue like thick peanut butter as he watched a seagull soar through the sky with a fish in its beak. The sun reflected off the undulating waves that gently rocked Dune’s docked boat nestled between a houseboat and a yacht. The harbor was alive with chattering sailors. A soft velvet voice called Dune’s name from beyond the horizon - it sounded like his late Mercy. Soft purple noise flooded Dune's wrinkled ears as the voice sang his name. Butterscotch waves rippled through Dune’s brain. Dune untied his boat and sailed toward an archipelago of jagged boulders.
PROMPT: HARBOUR
THE HARBOUR
The harbour was very crowded, making it difficult to manoeuvre.
So we had to be cautious.
Any error of judgement could be disastrous.
But eventually, we spotted an opening, and managed to swoop down to grab some food from the unwary tourists.
Before the other seagulls even saw us coming… 😎
Thank you for including me as always!!!! 🫰🫰🫰
That was a fun one, for sure... 😺😎😺
Hehe yeah!!!
Microdosing Fiction - 100mg of a Harbour
===
They were floating elegantly on the water. Fiery eyes. Red, fierce faces.
She was standing at the harbour, taking in the scene. One by one, the paddlers stepped onboard. They haven’t noticed her, waiting on the side.
Clear blue sky. Fresh river smell. Heartbeats pulsing in her head.
She put on her fingerless gloves and stepped forward.
As she slid into the front post, fiery eyes looked back at her with pure focus and anticipation.
It’s time.
She raised her arms and forcefully hit the drum. The thundering sound sprung everything to life. Their annual dragon boat race had begun.
Thank you Miguel for another great week and the mention!
Thank you , Miguel for including me in your latest batch. I am honored to be in such good company .
HARBOR
I miss the harbor lights I used to see
When I lived where I wanted to be
Now I live in the mountains
And one thing I was certain
Was that no Hurricane
would ever cause me any pain
But to my great surprise
And before my very eyes
Helene came and did her damage
As the Nolichucky did ravage
And laid waste to a fertile land
And piled up loads of sand
People lost their homes and souls
And bridges washed away like ghouls
Took a giant hand and
Created chaos where ever they can
Downed trees and clothes caught
Up where God never wrought
Shock and awe took a hold of us
As full lives turned to dust
So I dream of harbor lights
And the days that were so bright
When I was a child of the sea
That is how I remember me .
Thank you , Jeannine for the like!
Thank you, Miguel, for including me in today's post. It is an honour to be in the company of such accomplished writers.
Wendy paddled her kayak through the harbour. She was amazed at the cotillion of boats that were docked. So much money. So much energy tied up in one spot. She shook her head at a lifestyle she couldn't understand.
She felt giddy with the relaxation she felt just paddling using her own energy. Occasionally a fish would surface near her. Otters would paddle by paying little attention to her movements. The winds aided her movements and the sun warmed her soul.
As Wendy pushed her kayak towards the shore she thought, ”This is a great life. It can’t get better.”
Harbor / 100 Words
The young boy sat on a rock outcropping throwing stones into the water where river met sea. He faced the natural harbor, monastery to his back. Fog, thick as a wool blanket all around. Low tide, complete silence.
Then muffled splashing, groans reached him. He’d heard tales of sea monsters, but never had visioned one. An evil head appeared, then a long neck stuck out of the brume. The boy leapt up.
The serpent became what it really was. A longboat, giant men, oars, shields. Running up the cliff pathway. “Norsemen!”, came his breathless yell.
Yells became shrill screams, “Norsemen!”
𝗠𝗶𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗱𝗼𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 Miguel S.| 100 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 | 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗕𝗢𝗥
First earthquakes, then fires obliterated their homes, stripping all but their memories. Ash choked their skies, their lungs.
The rains smothered the smoldering rubble and also their dreams of rebuilding. Landslides took what the firestorms left.
They arrived, seeking safe harbor. As if the floodgates were left open, cities flooded with refugees. Desperate, scared, angry. Their numbers stretched overburdened public services to a snapping point. Riots over scarce resources—clean water, food, a safe place to sleep—stripped the last of humanity and the cities fell.
The Perses Pandemic wiped out the suffering of many. So went the Great Changes.
_____
World-building for the Forged series.
I appreciate the nod on my "Bundle" story. What a wonderful addiction this is turning out to be.
"HARBOR"
The couple stood together on their deck, surrounded by the breathtaking beauty that lured them there every summer.
A classic Maine lighthouse jutted out from the quiet harbor.
An early morning sky bathed them in color as the sun pierced the horizon.
They stared straight out, unable to look down at the dark rocks below.
The pain was too new, too raw, the specter of their sweet dog lying there. Found after a frantic night of searching.
The ocean had taken her away, but mercifully brought her home again.
The couple turned, knowing they would never return.
Loved this so much
100 words Harbor.
Electo, Megara, Tisiphone. Three ancient Greek Furies. AKA, Erinyes. Means: “I hunt down.” Avengers. Born to pursue, to follow blood smell like hound dogs. They punish crimes against DIKE(human justice). A nation HARBORING a criminal could suffer disease, famine, plague, drought. Once discovered, no prayer, sacrifice, tears, could move the Furies concerned with crimes against the gods like perjury. A curse upon a nation lasts for generations. Names change.. The Furies become the Eumenides (gracious ones). But.miasma , “ There’s something rotten in Denmark..” A ritual purification and the completion of some task assigned for atonement. Not an inauguration.
Once again, rather than looking for the obvious, I went somewhere else...
He saw the light ahead and made his way for it. His only thought was food, and maybe some rest. He wasn't looking for trouble, he had enough of that. The escape hadn't gone the way he'd hoped it would. He thought he’d get a five hour head start before they realized he was gone; he got a half hour before the sirens started.
There was a sign above the door: SAFE HARBOUR. He pushed the door open, thinking whoever was inside would be too frightened to do anything. He heard the explosion of the shotgun above the wailing sirens.
What a treat … so many amazing stories to read over the coming week … AND, a lovely surprise to see my tattoo story make the cut. Thanks so much, Miguel.Looking forward to chatting soon.
“Siren”
The salt-water air suffused Dune’s tongue like thick peanut butter as he watched a seagull soar through the sky with a fish in its beak. The sun reflected off the undulating waves that gently rocked Dune’s docked boat nestled between a houseboat and a yacht. The harbor was alive with chattering sailors. A soft velvet voice called Dune’s name from beyond the horizon - it sounded like his late Mercy. Soft purple noise flooded Dune's wrinkled ears as the voice sang his name. Butterscotch waves rippled through Dune’s brain. Dune untied his boat and sailed toward an archipelago of jagged boulders.
As usual, wonderful but sad writing...
Another great batch of micros! Thank you for mentioning my Lucky cow story. 😊