DRIFT countdown – 10 days.


Hey internet. So I just found out yesterday about Glimmer Glass’s June Open Fiction Contest, which closes on June 30th, and I decided, yesterday, to enter the contest with a story I haven’t actually written yet.

So in honor of my temporary insanity, this blog will be dedicated to the story I’m writing, working title Drift, until the 30th, because frankly I don’t have time to write a story and a blog post at the same time.

I’m just going to post sections of the thing, unedited and in random order, and when it’s done I’ll post the polished version.

Deal with it.

***

The day that Connor proposed was hot for May, and as we walked along the shoreline the foaming waves rubbed against our ankles like well-worn lace. The sensation was welcoming nudging the soft sand in between our toes as it came and pulling the ground away from us as it went. Connor was my anchor, calm, quiet, accepting of the pull of my hand as the water pulled at me. He always walked just above the waterline – I always had my feet in the ocean, no matter how cold.

“The tourist season will come early this year,” he remarked, as we climbed the steps to the pier. It had become a tradition of ours to picnic on the first nice weekend of the spring.

I nodded, stepping lightly down onto the floating docks right at the end of the pier. It was reserved for incoming boaters who pulled up to take lunch in the few restaurants that dotted the shoreline, and although it was a nice day, the dock was empty.

“I already have tour groups booked through June and into July. Looks like paddle boarding is finally going mainstream,” I replied.

“You don’t say?”

“I do say. I might even turn a profit this year.”

Connor chuckled, taking off his backpack and sitting down at the edge of the dock. I joined him, dangling my feet off the edge so my legs were splashed by the salt spray dashed against the hard wooden edge of the structure. My feet, already numbed by the cold, looked bleach white under the water, rippled by the currents forming around my ankles in the gentle tide. The dock rose and fell gently, and I felt Connor’s arm reach around me to brace against the movement. I snuggled into him, and we watched the seagulls wheeling in the distance.

“I do think your new Paddlebrew tour is going to be a huge hit,” Connor said to fill the silence.

“If they don’t end up getting too drunk to paddle home,” I laughed.

“Well, that’s why you’re dating a boat captain,” he joked, “I can come pick you up.”

“You’d put ten inebriated strangers on The Lochness for me?” I smirked.

“I’d do a lot of things for you,” Connor said, suddenly serious. His eyes searched for mine and I met his gaze.

“If you let me, I’ll keep doing things for you as long as I’m able to. I love you, Sarah.”

Just like that, the ring was in his hands, a flashing sapphire in a sea of diamonds perched on a thin silver band. I felt the dock underneath me buoyed up on a great wave as I inhaled.

“Oh,” I exclaimed, out of surprise. Connor raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, yes,” I exclaimed, as the dock gently floated back down, rattling against it’s metal mooring.

“Yes,” I added, although somehow the ring was already on my finger, and he was kissing me, and far above us, the wheeling seagulls were crying out.

Yes? a little voice inside me whispered as my heart started to beat faster, but the sea kept flowing beneath me, and the dock kept rising and falling, and Connor kept his arms around me until the high tide came and went.

 

 

10 comments

  1. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – 9 days | her name was cassandra
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  3. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – 7 days. | her name was cassandra
  4. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – 6 days. | her name was cassandra
  5. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – 5 days. | her name was cassandra
  6. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – 4 days | her name was cassandra
  7. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – 2 days. | her name was cassandra
  8. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – 1 day. | her name was cassandra
  9. Pingback: DRIFT countdown – Conclusion? | her name was cassandra
  10. Pingback: Fiction Friday #26 – Drift, revised. | her name was cassandra

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