tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post823572641169857466..comments2023-07-06T07:33:06.262-04:00Comments on * Writers' Spark * Every story has to start somewhere *: Prompt: Some bonds are never broken Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-85813474807393046522013-03-19T19:21:17.140-04:002013-03-19T19:21:17.140-04:00Prompt: Some bonds are never broken
The wharf w...Prompt: Some bonds are never broken<br /><br /><br />The wharf was busy. Hugh knew it had been so back in his day, too, but it just seemed more frantic now. Or maybe it was because he was slower. He leaned on his cane, gathering up the energy for another burst forward. A small dog ran between his legs, followed closely by a laughing boy in a red cap.<br /><br />Hugh remembered himself at that age. He'd had a puppy, too--Grizzle. He'd never forget that name. Grizzle: like the pup's favourite scraps of dinner; like the pup's rough chin hairs that grew into a wiry mess on the adult dog; like the half-whine the dog would let loose whenever Hugh left him behind on the ship. <br /><br />Hugh shook himself out of his reverie and moved on. The ship docked at berth three was smaller than he remembered, but such was the fate of many of his childhood haunts. Unless they had built a new vessel with the old name--but no, his grandson would have told him if so.<br /><br />He made his way out to the nearest bollard and leaned against it. He closed his eyes, the squeak-squelch of wood against wood a familiar refrain. He associated it with impatience, for as a lad he always wanted to be at sea, not waiting in dock.Annenoreply@blogger.com