The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner will open early Wednesday morning, April 19th. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.)
All his life, he’d felt awkward in himself, so unlike his family. Straight hair versus curly. Dark skin versus light. Brown eyes versus blue. Plod-along sameness against the wild need to roam free.
He’d roamed for over a year, following a silent call. Why was he different? Who was he? Was he adopted? Found? Just a throw-back to some earlier, unknown, ancestor?
His gaze now never left the ocean. Somehow this was it. Home. Taking a little-used trail through the rocks and scrub, he stepped onto the sand. On the doorstep.
Tossing his pack down, kicking off his boots, he moved towards the surf, belonging sweeping through him as the waves lapped around his feet. He waded further. Further. Water past his hips, armpits.
I’m coming, he cried silently, I’m coming.
Water rose over shoulders, chin, to his top lip. He paused, uncertain, then continued. The water rose over his head. Filled with fear, he struggled for the surface, no longer knowing what was up. What down. Fought to hold his breath, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t last. Couldn’t …….
A moment later, he drew in a lungful of oxygen, flipped his tail and headed out to the open sea.