(More microfiction)
NIGHT HARBOR
He's holding a lantern, with just a candle inside, and the wind makes the flame dance against the glass, blackening it with soot.
-- War is coming, he says.
I look at the stars and swirl the coffee in my mouth. He's full of it.
This year the dark came early. Down in the harbor a spattering of white light shows where Torvald's still welding.
Diesel and seawater. The stars turn.
He has to go, he says, touching my palm.
Cross my palm. Numb hands.
Damn this, damn him, damn the war. Damn all of it.
The candle gutters and goes out.
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2 comments:
I like that this gives just enough, just a few handholds from which we can climb and build the story. Whether it's good writing or good music, the very best know when to leave something out and let the reader/listener provide their own story.
Effective visualizations of images in a story are only as good as the writing. Great job!
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