As we drive over the bridge, I tell myself not to look down, but the word tugs at my periphery. The sea. So vast, and so devoid of anything to distract my attention from its horrible emptiness. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t have to be real. I always hope that it’s all a dream, that I won’t have to accept the ocean as fact. That somehow, I live in a world without anything to reach the horizon. The bridge crumbles, collapsing into that which I dread. A dream? No. It’s all I can see, all I will ever see.
Nice. Unfortunately, I recognise that fear a little. Except there are usually sharks there too in my imagination (don't ask). Well done, you keep getting better at this don't you. Now, in my country we don't have Thanksgiving, so I don't know, but the title did suggest a different kind of tale to me. Not that I didn't like this one, cause I loved it. Keep it up!
ReplyDeleteThanks. The title has nothing to do with the story, I guess, I'm all for contradictions. You can make the leap if you want to, I suppose.
ReplyDelete