The storm passed, as storms always do.
It’s hard to believe this though, when doors slam, windows rattle and shrieking winds of despair blow a hoolie through the nooks and crannies of our home.
Next morning clouds scudded across a dazzling sky, and waves, still seemingly unsettled by the events of the previous night, crashed nervously against the rocks.
We shuffled through pungent seaweed, me clinging to my father’s hand.
“She will come back, won’t she?” I faltered.
“When she’s ready, son… in her own time…”
That time never came, and my father tired of waiting.
As did I, eventually.
Our seaside town, though on the south coast of England, faces east on a peninsula. When we get spring tides it’s not unusual to wake up this kind of scenario. Only days after this, high tide combined with strong easterlies, redecorated the entire seafront with stones, rocks and pebbles and sweeping away some of our lovely beach huts. Seldom a dull moment on or near water, I’ve always found. Friday Fictioneers, under the leadership of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, is also a pretty lively scene if anyone wants to join us with a 100 word story in response to a photo prompt each week.
A very satisfying story, Sandra. Everything has its season
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Indeed it does. Even grief. Thanks for reading, Neil.
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You break my heart with indifference and apparent ease.
Wonderful.
And our storms removed many of the beaches.
Somewhere out there is a whole lot of sand…
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🙂 Thanks for reading CE. Yes, I think we’ll be looking to top up round our way.
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Reminds me of the eye of a storm (cyclones). Everything is eerily quiet after ravaging, sun might be out, and wham the storm returns. Great atmosphere in this story.
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Thanks for reading Tannille.
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Dear Sandra,
You made me think of my dad with his explosive temper. When he was calm, he was funny and entertaining…then there were those “other times.” Love the direction you took your story. So brilliantly described.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I can imagine. In my youth the maelstrom was my mother. The periods of calm were rare but always enjoyable. Thanks for reading.
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Poignant story, beautifully written, Sandra. Loved this.
I too live on the coast and seaweed on my local beach is normal, plus it attracts wildlife, so I’m all for it.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Yes, I quite like seaweed. Perhaps not quite so deep as this was, but nevertheless there’s something very appealing about the way it sprawls over the beach.
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Wonderfully written, Sandra. And thanks for the great photo!
A sad reality – lost pets (or people) during violent storms.
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I hadn’t thought in terms of pets. That makes it all the more poignant, for me anyway. Thanks for reading, Dale.
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I immediately thought of a pet (a parent was too much for me 😉 )
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Calmly tragic
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Thanks for reading, Sue. 🙂
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😊😊
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Wow, what a scary scene. I love a good storm, but within safe limits. Love the photo you shared. Tried to get it to upload for my story, but it wouldn’t download, nor upload with this new WP format. Grr… Still, it was an inspiring photog! Thanks!
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I’ve only had a quick glimpse at the new Block Editor but couldn’t see where the picture prompt would be added either. I took the option to remain with the Classic Editor version, but I guess I’ll have to tackle it sooner or later.
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you have to scroll down either through the little black plus sign at the right or the upper left blue plus sign. either way, it won’t let me upload, or download to my desktop to upload again. I like to keep the pics with the stories in my fri fic folder for future reference. I used to go every week and print the pic and story for my notebook, but library has been closed for months now.
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And yet, it is my favorite kind of place to hope to live in. One day. Just need to build sturdily enough and be content with damp and wet and sand. 🙂 LOVELY
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And a rusty automobile…
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that, too … 😉
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Lovely indeed. Thanks for reading.
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🙂
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The sadness of the storm is eclipsed by the sadness of what I’m assuming is a wife/mom who never came back. Well done.
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Thanks for reading Linda.
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I guessed it was not far from Hove where I grew up, walking the seafront in stormy weather as an angsty teenager.
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We’re further west than that, Dorset coast.
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Incredibly well done!
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Many thanks for reading.
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Sad. Who is she?
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Wife, mother, pet dog, cat… whatever floats your boat I guess. 🙂
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Very evocative. A really good job of creating a scene and mood. By the way, what is a hoolie?
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Abbreviation of hooligan
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A hoolie is a howling wind. I think it’s Irish in origin.
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Thank you 😊 I love learning new words, especially from the UK.
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Lovely use of analogy, Sandra, and I hope the child in the story found that when storms pass, they leave beauty as well as seaweed.
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Many thanks Jen. I hope so too.
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Vivid and sad. I love the sea too. Well worth the risks involved. Might be better to rent than own these days 🙂
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Thanks for reading.
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A great analogy Sandra, expertly done.
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Many thanks, Iain.
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I too live on the South coast so this really hit home with me, even more so, as sadly a body was discovered on the beach a few days ago near my home. A poignant piece indeed.
Here’s mine!
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That’s so sad Keith. We have our share of casualties here too, there’s a treacherous tidal reach just to the west of us. Thanks for reading.
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Heart-breaking, Sandra. Beautifully told.
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Many thanks, Penny.
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Heart-breakingly tender vignette, Sandra, and one with hope for a healing peace, eventually. Thank you for the great photo prompt, by the way!
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My pleasure, Dora. Thanks for reading.
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what a heartbreaking story. it was time to move on indeed.
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Thanks for reading.
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What an apt analogy about the storm that rages in a person life, there are stories within stories in this one. Beautifully done as always.
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Many thanks! 🙂
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A storm within and without. Nice one.
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Thanks for reading.
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Sad when storms do this.
Took away the lady of the house.
Hope she comes back…
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Thanks for reading Anita.
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A hollie. Thanks! A new word to use and amaze my friends.
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A wonderfully written story with powerful meanings framed within.
A great read, Sandra. I shall call you wordsmith. Have a great day … Be Safe
Isadora 😎
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I knew from the first line that this was going to be good and you didn’t disappoint.
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I’m conflicted about whether to read this metaphorically or literally. Either way, well done.
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Having lived near the water most of my life, I can attest to the interesting times. It’s a pity she never returned, but maybe it was for the best.
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I like it Sandra
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What a vivid picture you’ve painted with this piece. I can literally see the house.
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Beautifully story, Sandra. Great photo too.
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Sorry, I meant to say, “beautifully written.”
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