They came with the tide, as if the moon had a story to tell.
Seabirds had eaten their eyes and death stared back from the voids that were left.
They once were a family.
The female’s hands were clasped around the toddler’s body. She had once been attractive but with greyish skin and pink froth covering her lips she seemed closer to mollusk than human.
The male had an open head-wound; probably from a desperate oar or the bow of a boat.
Can you blame a desperate man?
After the hearse had left we drank the wine we had left.
I thought about the part of the beach that you see and what the sea might bring in with the tide.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly prompt and a community of bloggers under the watching eye of Rochelle who share hundred word stories on the same picture every week. Check out what others have written by going to Rochelle’s site or by clicking on the dead frog below
January 8, 2019