By DocDreamUK
November winds churned the wild sea as Dave yanked at the rope. He shivered, though not because of the cold. He was remembering a time when the mast broke, causing the ship to flounder. All on board were drowned.
His father became a ghost of a man, haunting the cellars at Widow Mercer’s. The skipper, Scotty Grimes, left a wife and two kids.
Dave yanked at the rope again but it refused to give. Through the lashing rain, ghostly shadows were approaching. Floating on the waves.
Scotty Grimes held out his hand. “Come on lad, it’s time to go,” he said.
Makes me think the sea always does take back its own.
Chilling piece Doc
Wonderful! I could almost feel the lashing rain.
i felt the storm. regret & impending doom. powerful
Nice one Jo, sounds very Cornwall (which is now an adjective).
Thank you all for your kind comments – much appreciated x x
Excellent!