Photo credit: Reck Dickhard
I doubt you will ever read this, my dear, but writing keeps me sane.
My nightmares yet plague me: crashing over the falls, our fragile vessel cracking, my companions screaming. With no chance of fulfilling our mission, we seek only escape. Ellass has taken the lead, tramping through this endless jungle, whistling the same three tunes without surcease. It cheers the others, I believe. I calm myself by imagining him falling from a narrow cliff path, or slipping on mossy rocks into the murky waters, or being strangled by predatory vines.
We trudge toward the coast, although each day turns us around. I fear we have made no progress in weeks. Ellass blames the uneven terrain, the detours, the monstrously tall trees. But some weird magic clouds our minds and frazzles our nerves. Strange croaks and howls threaten, tease, ridicule our plight. I long to see the open sea, free under a wide sky instead of hemmed in here. I cast my grappling iron toward any port of safety, any thought that will keep my rudder steady, but it lands dry, catching on no pebble of hope.
I pray nobody followed us. I pray you are well. Remember me fondly.
Word count: 200. Written for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge. Thanks as always to Al Forbes for hosting, and for providing the original photo prompt, below. Click here to see the other stories based on this prompt.
Photo copy Al Forbes / A Mixed Bag