Horrified, Juker peeled back the corner of the eye. Johnny's face spasmed, blinking out sunlight. Juker pawed at the glinting metal. The hook nestled, like an anchor, on a red seabed of tissue.
Juker's cast fishing line had sent Johnny's craic packing. The silence was shock.
Juker's cast fishing line had sent Johnny's craic packing. The silence was shock.
His fingernail plucked more blood into Johnny's crusted eyelashes, until fear whispered "get him home".
Their catch of trout left open-mouthed in the sand by the loch.
Right hand guiding Johnny's footsteps, he led him up.
The fishing line in his left hand joined Juker to his brother, their connection going deeper than before.
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| photo copyright: http://tombradley.wordpress.com/2009/10/ |
A perfect little story.
ReplyDeletePearl
Thanks Pearl.
ReplyDeleteIt's based on something that happened around 90 years ago. The two guys are based on two of my grandmother's brothers George (Juker) and Johnny.
Will check out your page soon,
David
Ouch. Just ouch. Cleverly written - conveying all sorts of pain and connection in so few words. Nice
ReplyDeleteThanks for that Sharon. Very kind of you.
ReplyDeleteI tried the 100 word idea because I think it fits with the fact that stories like this, that my gran told me, are so old and passed on about people I never met. I'm quite vague about the details but at least the memory of the people and events can be preserved somehow without getting too many details wrong!
David