She longed. He grabbed his bow and arrow, glanced at her, smiling worried. He left her again, bent forward as if he was trying to break the dark winter day, heading for the winter hunt.
She lay down among the furs to wait. She held tightly around a fur, pretending it was a living being to comfort herself. She closed her eyes and felt the longing. Suddenly she knew why. It was not here on the plateau she belonged, she was homesick. Her anchor was at sea. She should have married a fisherman.
Submitted to Friday Fictioneers.
Based on the following photo prop:
Kind of sad that she’s not longing for him, but for the sea. I like the image of him bent over trying to break the day.
Yes, it is sad. Thank you for your comment.
Dear Heidi,
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers.
Your story is stunning, filled with longing, feeling and imagery that will linger in my mind. I hope we’ll be reading more from you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you, and what a joy to be a part of it!
………but fish skins aren’t near so warm to cuddle into.
Ha ha brilliant.
For some, the sea calls to them. Nice piece.
Thank you Amy.
Sea has its own call – as has the mountain; there are only a few handful – who hears them both !
Thank you for Your beautiful comment!
Nice. I really admire storitellers who can weave such short stories.