The Pilot


The storm settled during the night. The pale morning light revealed a thin layer of ice in the barrel. Woolen socks, warm jacket, he decided. Breakfast was coffee and salted dry herring.

His wife’s belly pushing the blanket up like a hill. She would nag at him for letting her sleep. Mother would taunt her. But he could not find in his heart to wake her.

Behind the squeaking door he could hear her call his name. Across the yard his mother served breakfast. He shivered, put his cap on and walked up the steep path to the little pilot house.

Advertisements

I really challenged myself with a hundred word story in my second language, English. Hope it makes sense. The picture shows the small pilot house on top of a rock that inspired the story. Taken with the zoom lens I borrowed from my father-in-law. Like, subscribe and please comment.

Categories: WritingTags: , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: