The Prompt: “The cure for anything is salt water….sweat, tears or the sea.”
~ Isak Dinesen, pseudonym of Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke
For your Creative Non-Fiction tell us about the last time that one of
these three things “cured” you. If you are going with Fiction, have
your character resolve a problem using one of the three (or all
three!!!). There are so many ways you can use this prompt so be creative
with it, don’t take us where we think you’ll go. Word Limit is 300.
(This was written on Thursday and then never posted on Friday as I ran out of time. I figured it was written, may as well post it even if I missed linking up!)
******
"I think it should float all right. At least long enough." Critos kicked at the raft with the toe of his boot, mumbling something I couldn't quite make out, avoiding my eyes.
"You got the ropes tight enough?" I placed a hand on Karina's shoulder as I spoke. She jumped and turned toward me.
"Yeah, should be good." She stared at me for a minute, started to speak, but turned away and walked over to stand next to Critos. She seemed solid enough, but I wasn't in a trusting mood. They'd both have to be watched closely.
I double checked the raft and the ropes. They seemed sufficient.
"Ready?" They nodded and we walked over to the small pile of items near the raft. Karina reached down and picked up a tattered blanket, the pink roses faded and stained with tears. Critos grabbed the large leather belt, holding the metal buckle well away from him, as if it were the head of a snake about to strike. They looked at each other, at me, and then tossed them onto the raft, onto the body they had tied so carefully.
I stared down at the bloodied ropes by my feet. These could have been used for the raft but I needed this ceremony. I needed to rid myself of his terror. The feeling of remorse caught me by surprise. Why should I bear guilt for ridding the world of a monster? I choked down the bile, picked up the rope, and flung it onto the raft. It was time.
Without a word, we pushed it further into the sea and prayed to the gods that they would receive him and swallow him whole.
A fitting end for a man called Norse. A man I called Father.
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