As The Crow Flies


Image result for Mackinac Island

Mackinac Island; http://www.cityofmi.org/

 

“Thar she is,” the captain pointed.

She stared at the lighthouse across a desert of stacked ice shards and patches of wet cold.

“How far are we?”

The grizzled man lifted a hand against the horizon as if measuring. “Ah, ’bout a mile, as the crow flies.”

Might as well be ten thousand, she thought. Years, too.

He’d left the engines idling but refused to get her any closer. Would not lend her a kayak, either.Β “Too chocked up,” he’d said.

She reiterated her urgency but still he would not be swayed.

“She’d give up her ice soon,” he nodded at the lake. His attempt at kindness.

Soon would be too late. She swallowed bitterness. The estate was scheduled to be liquidated the next morning. Without photo proof of her early childhood scrawls in the lighthouse’s attic, she’d lose the inheritance. Illegitimate in a whole new way.

 

For What Pegman Saw

 

 

26 thoughts on “As The Crow Flies

  1. You tell this story fluently, and where you use description you pick out the most important details. For example, “a desert of stacked ice shards and patches of wet cold” tells us why she can’t cross the ice to the lighthouse. ‘Grizzled’ is an excellent summing up of both the appearance and the manner of the sailor.
    Good story, Na’ama

  2. Echoing the comments above. I especially liked your description of the ice shards. The captain is also drawn very nicely. I wonder if on “childhood’s” you might want to leave out the ‘s ? The tension is very high in this piece. Well done!

    • Thank you! Yes, I had debated that possessive ‘s’ with myself … and what it does to the sentence (the scrawls do ‘belong’ to her childhood, but perhaps the attribution of possession is understood and not totally necessary in this particular sentence …). So, I think you might be right about it being a tad over possessive after all … πŸ˜‰

    • Thank you, Dale! πŸ™‚
      I hope she finds a way, too. … All is possible. You never know. A glider hero passes by and plucks her up? A stranger back in town offers a helicopter ride? A woman at the town’s diner remembers she has photos of her as a child at the lighthouse? All is possible …

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