Thursday, September 26, 2013

Prompt: sleep, rocking, water

Sarah lay in the hammock, too weak to lift her head when the boat rocked suddenly, side to side. It was different than the steady rocking of the waves flowing underneath, the soft slap against the hull. Then she heard a footstep thud on the deck. She rolled her head to the side and licked her lips, trying to speak. She might have whispered, “Jared?”

More steps along the deck. More than one person. Not Jared. She sank back, her flare of hope dying. She closed her eyes and waited. It didn’t matter anymore. The sounds faded away. There might have been voices calling out, talking to her. They were so far away, she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

There might have been hands touching her, shocking against her damaged skin. She couldn’t lift her own hands to push them away. There might have been fingers, gentle and warm, but burning with the slightest touch, opening her eyes and feeling for a pulse on her neck.

Would they leave her like Jared had? She called on energy reserves she didn’t know she still had and moaned, shifting her head a little. The hands flew off her as if she had hurt them. Funny, that. I wouldn’t. She thought. So tired. I couldn’t. Please. Don’t leave me. “Please…”

She must have said it aloud. The hands returned, one under her head, one holding water to her lips. She swallowed once, twice…

“More,” she croaked.

“Slowly, ma’am. A little at a time.”

The hand under her head lifted her again for another drink. She took two more gulps and dropped her head back. She felt an eerie sense of déjà vu, and her eyes snapped open.

The young man drew back, bright green eyes widening in surprise. He ran fingers through his shock of blond hair. Then he smiled. The smile she knew so well. The smile she loved.

“Ma’am, just lie still. We’re getting a stretcher down here for you.”

Déjà vu.

“Name…”she whispered.

He frowned with concentration, two fine lines between his brows that she had traced so many times. “Oh, My name is Jared Winters, ma’am. Can you tell me yours?”

He didn’t know her. It was all still to come. Again. Could she change it this time? Could she save him? Should she let him go? Could she break the cycle? The questions roared in her ears, swam before her eyes, weighted her head against the hammock so she could not move.

Could she free them both?

Dogs in house

Analekta: Classical Gems

Time writing:
~25 minutes

September word count:

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