I’d greatly appreciate some feedback on this one.
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The street was cobbled, narrow, splashed with sun and shadow. I heard the distant tolling of St. Andrews ricocheting through blood and bone and marrow, sea songs deep where I had no control.
It was death I heard calling.
I stepped into the shadows, walking to the land of bones. Sun. Shadow. Sun. Shadow. Sun. Sea salt and brine. Nowhere else to run.
Drowning in air.
I felt the pain before I heard the shot.
Sand. Fish-rough hands. A hand grasping my shoulder.
The sea always calls home its own.
Falling, drifting, far out beyond land. The land of bones.