Writing For G.O.T

The Fog -- (Writing Challenge- Week 5, Prompt 1)

742 words

“That ship is not gonna make it!”

Harvey squinted to get a clear view across the darkened horizon. A thick fog had obliterated the sun while slipping threats at the glassy water,

“It’s just the fog,” said Brad, “Nothing to worry. That’s a big liner, out there. Just needs to open up and away.I guess we should row back to land before it gets any worse.”

“Yeah,” Harvey nodded and began pulling on the oars. “No fish is biting today, anyway.”

The boat rocked. A loon warbled from somewhere, its cry like a hysterical giggle. Brad shivered, his teeth chattering.

Harvey stopped rowing and reached to the stern side, into the storage box. When he pulled his hand back, he was holding a sweatshirt. It was too big for Brad, but it would do.

He handed it to the smaller man, his hand touching Brad’s during the exchange.

“Whoa, Brad, your hands are like ice! I shouldn’t let you come today.”

Brad drew the sweatshirt over his head and put his arms through the sleeves.

“Better?”

“Yup, thanks.”

“I’ll row to the shore; the motor’s been acting sick.”

“What shore?”

The land had disappeared. Harvey set the oars in the boat, water dripping from the paddles, pooling below, as the fog enveloped the boat.

“Let’s wait it out till it clears. You sure you’ll be fine?” A flicker of fear passed through Harvey.

Brad shrugged. “What else to do?”

“It’s just that you’ve been under the weather for a while, there.” He didn’t want to say pneumonia. That word sounded like a bad omen, especially today. He shouldn’t let Brad come with him, not with the two little tykes at home, but Brad had twisted his arm, kinda. Maybe if Harvey kept talking, Brad wouldn’t feel the cold.

But Brad began first. “It gets so boring at home. Every day the same. I wanted to get out something bad. It wasn’t you, Harvey. When the sea gets in your veins, hard to bear the land, you know.”

“Yeah,” said Harvey. “My old man was the same. When he couldn’t get out to sea anymore, he used to think he was in the boat when the house creaked.”

“He was the man, your pop. Real old salt. I miss him, too.”

“Never used a fork for his fish. Fish, you eat with fingers, he used to say.”

“Harvey, Remember when we were kids, how he made a huge fire at the fireplace and told us about shooting that one-eyed fox?“

“Like he shot the fox himself,” Harvey chuckled. “Here’s the other version you don’t know. It was uncle Joe. He was some sharp shooter.”

“It was some huge fire though. I remember your Ma getting antsy over it.”

“Ma was jumpy with fires. When she was a kid, they were burned down and moved back in with Granma.”

Brad suddenly stiffened. “Listen!”

A distant drone of a motorboat...They strained to hear. Harvey’s eyes widened in fear as he picked the oars and spun the boat around. The sound of the motorboat intensified as it bore toward them. Harvey and Brad yelled together. “Whoa! Fish on!”

But from the sound of it, the other driver had to have gunned the engine. Harvey dragged harder on the oars, propelling the boat out into the open.

A dark shape emerged through the fog. When it was about to scrape against them, it swerved away, accelerating toward the shore.

“Man must be drunk,” Brad said.

“Suicidal!” Harvey said, and immediately, the sound of a crash jolted them in their seats.

“Oh, damn! He hit the boulders!”

It had to be bad. Real bad.

“We gotta help,” said Harvey. “But how!”

“No way, man! We’ll crash, too.”

Harvey pulled on the oars but stopped short. Brad had two tykes at home. Harvey couldn’t put his friend in danger for the other drunk.

“Look!” Lights shone through the fog around where the boulders were. “Coast Guard!” Brad yelled.

“Hope the guy’s okay,” Harvey said. He closed his eyes and prayed.

The fog got thinner in the next hour or so, but the dusk was settling in. Harvey took to the oars again. They were creaking beautifully.

He had to get that engine fixed, he thought, with Brad coming with him out here. He had two tykes at home.

“Eat with us, tonight, Harvey,” said Brad. “I’ll build us a fire and Rosalyn will cook up something.”

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Prompt 1: Write a story that includes the words ice, sun, fox, ship and fire. Please bold the words, at least the first time you use them. ~ Story