06-18-2009, 11:38 PM
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Hemming laid on the end of a wooden dock, his long legs dangling over the edge. Contrary to what he would have expected while visiting a harbour, there was nothing below him but mud. It was mud, however, rather than dirt, so there must be water down there once in a while. Perhaps the moon had sucked it all out of this tiny place, greedily. The old town was quite interesting, not just for its waterless harbour, and the wolf was quite pleased to have stumbled upon it. As he had wandered into town, the quaint cottages caught his eye. A few little fishing smacks were pulled halfway onto shore around the harbour, and the wolf had eyed those as well. For now, though, his legs were tired and the weather was fair, so he retreated to a place where he could lie comfortably. Hands behind his head, he closed his eyes and listened to the distant cries of seabirds.
The male performed an exercise that he was quite fond of, imagining what these abandoned places had been like in their heyday. By this time, the fishermen would have all gone out for the day, loading their boats with nets and lobster traps, and their sails bobbed in the distance. The women worked in the fudge shops, smiling and handing over chunks of nice smelling sugar to little boys. This was how it must have been - Hemming had read something like it in a book, once. |