I totally enjoy the writer prompts on Twitter.
I took How We’ll Prompt’s #7/200 Challenge and expanded
a 10-wd story about “being aboard a boat drifting in heavy fog” :
Zero visibility for hours.
“Dear,” I huffed. “Knock off the formality. This was your idea.”
In the blackness, the vacuum pop of a metal container. Silence off all bows, sterns, sanity, motion, and oars bouncing against the thick soup. Fuel was useless without spark. On the deep a man has only so much mettle to deal with currents, windmills and hulls of invisible freighters looming in the murk and hiss of fading drumbeats, rimshots or pounding solos.
“I don’t understand mutiny,” she said.
“Strawberries don’t need sugar. They’re sweet enough on their own.”
“You don’t say.”
“You need to keep up your strength.”
A misshapen orb pressed against my lips. She was right. I hoped the fog had been saturating the towels. Coffee was gone, one sandwich left, we could be going in any direction possible, one oar stroke shy of infinity.
“Is there enough battery for a heading, Miss Queeg?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“I’ve been leaving a trail.”
I closed my eyes and kept rowing.
“We’ll follow the sugar trail when it gets light. In the meantime we go wherever these strawberries want to take us.”