Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 1) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #7.
Today I’m featuring contributions from entry 1) Gerry McCullough and 2) by Christine Bailczak. Tomorrow Part 2 entries from John Howell and my own contribution will be featured, with further entries on Saturday.
Last week I set the following Challenge:
Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing. Maximum word count: 750 words.
Here is the image prompt.
1) Contributed by Gerry McCullough:
The sun shone into my eyes, blinding me to everything else. The ominous darkness of the clouds issued a stern warning. Worst of all, the lighthouse looming over me ruthlessly insisted that it wasn’t there for fun. There were rocks, dangerous rocks, not very far away.
The boat drifted helplessly on. I hadn’t much idea where it was heading. I had a broken right arm which made it difficult to steer. (I’ve never been good with my left hand.) I still had the remains of concussion from the accident when the boom had swung over and crashed into me. I had been intending to change course, trying to catch the wind in my sail. The heavy boom had broken my arm, and whacked my head. I hadn’t managed to duck out of its way.
I could see the wind had died down, and the sea was fairly calm, in comparison to the monstrous waves which had thumped and bumped me about a short while before. If only my head were clearer and I could see where I was going.
One thing was obvious. I needed to head away from the lighthouse and the rocks. I had no memory of where I was or where I was supposed to be going. I stood hanging on one-handed to the steering wheel and tried through the blur in my eyes to read the compass. I thought I could make out that I was steering west. I twisted the wheel with what strength I had in my left arm, and saw the compass needle swing round. The lighthouse disappeared behind me, no longer sternly rebuking my foolishness. The sun had stopped glaring into my face.
But was I steering further out to sea now?
I looked round me desperately. Sea on all sides. Then I looked at the boat, which had felt so unfamiliar to me since this blankness had lodged in my memory. There was a short companionway to the right of the wheel, leading down to a cabin. I could see a made up bunk bed, a small fold down table with charts spread out over it, and, oh joy, was that a wireless hanging above it attached to the side of the cabin?
I staggered down the steps, almost screaming with pain as my broken arm jerked about. I grabbed the wireless, and somehow got connected to the nearest coastguard station.
I had managed to get through and was giving my message when I realised that the boat, left to itself while I sent out my SOS, had turned back round and was aiming again for the blinding sun and the lighthouse.
‘I have to get the wheel,’ I gasped. ‘I’ve told you everything I can.’
I dived back up from the cabin and took hold of the wheel again with my good arm.
The sun was beginning to go down. Darkness was descending. I clung desperately to the wheel, praying that my SOS would bring help. There was nothing else I could do now. My head was spinning, and I was terrified of falling asleep and drifting back to the rocks.
I think I did sleep, but standing upright, clinging to the wheel. At least, when I jerked awake the compass was still showing the boat’s direction as north. I giggled foolishly. I’d dreamt that I’d landed on a south sea island, with golden sand and cocoanuts, and a handsome captain who rescued me in his white ship.
There was no desert island. But there was a ship. Or, at least, a yacht. It was coming closer. As I waved frantically in intervals of holding on to the wheel, and called out, I knew, thankfully, that it had seen me.
‘Thank you, God!’ I shouted aloud. ‘Oh, thank you!’
Contact Gerry Here …
2) Contributed by Christine Bialczak.
Just beyond the clouds
Slightly over the horizon
I will be waiting there
For the day that I will see you
©2020 CBialczak Poetry
Contact Christine here …
Thanks so much for stopping by. Tomorrow I’ll be Featuring Part 2 entry 3)by John Howell and 4) My own contribution.
Further entries will follow on Saturday.
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