“Lorna, we need firewood tonight, go gathering for driftwood, girl.”
Lorna, faces her father, fists clenched.
“I have this washing first, the calico you brought last week has to be sold”
“Lorna, I saw sails at the horizon, another ship will seek shelter at our shore tonight”
“I don’t want to live like this any longer”, Lorna meets his gaze.
Tom, as so many times before, takes a few steps closer, fists prepared for persuasion, but Lorna isn’t unprepared.
“No more sailor’s death or pillaged goods”, a knife protruding from her father’s ribcage.
“Tonight, only lighthouses will guide the sailors”
A place reminds me of the fine tradition of wrecking, to light misleading lights on high places, luring ships ashore, killing the sailors for the goods. I think Lorna is fed up with this, and wants to be an actress instead.
Friday Fictioneers is a group of bloggers writing stories to the same pictures every week under the firm rule of the our mariner sweetheart Rochelle, come and join us, and skip the turkey indigestion.
November 25, 2015