Photo © James Voss via Google Photosphere
I cast the illusion spell to conjure you here, where you are not. As your face coalesces, I consider what I want you to do. Smile sweetly, like you once did? Apologize, promising to return? Cower while I vent my rage on you?
I don’t get the chance to decide: the image won’t solidify. As though I picture not the far shore, but its reflection: the shapes and colors distorted, rippled.
My mentor always praised my spell arts. So creative, she said.
Indeed. I sculpted a mirage of loyalty from your watery words, painted rainbows using gray shadows, concocted a future out of pure air.
My mentor taught me to shape the illusion with truth, with sincere feeling, so anyone seeing it believed in it as I did.
That’s the problem, then. My belief, once solid as a tree, now wavers in the waves, and disappears with the fading light.
Word count: 150. Written for this week’s What Pegman Saw prompt. Thanks as always to Josh and Karen for hosting this fun flash challenge! This week, Pegman takes us to Tolchester Beach in Delaware (although the image I found is a ways up the shoreline, so I ended up at Lloyd’s Creek in Upper Chesapeake Bay Maryland, so technically not Delaware (which I just now realized, after writing the story, oops). Well, Delaware is so danged small! Click the link to see the images the other writers found (presumably actually in Delaware) and the stories they were inspired to write. And feel free to join in, the water’s warm! (Okay, that’s an illusion. In real life, the water is pretty cold, I’m sure.)