The sun slowly set, casting shadows long, stretched into wicked, writhing parodies.
The sea spoke, whispering, muttering. Telling secrets, from ages long forgotten, making promises to the failing fingers of the sun.
Boulders, worn smooth by the sea’s incessant advances, worn smooth by constant flirtation. Their hard refusals will lead to soft acceptance.
The little mermaid waits, cast in bronze. Unfinished eyes glare out above the mirror of the sea, listening to the water’s ancient, unending prayer, feeling the sun’s goodnight kiss.
Eventually, she to will fall, will collapse into sea foam and wash away, torn apart, into flotsam and jetsam.
Written, a little too late, for last week’s Flash! Friday.
Comments and criticism always welcome!