AnElephantCant keek through a telescope
To see things that are out of his range
He hasn’t got good eyes
He can’t scan the skies
But he has no pockets to carry his change
This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to find some far-sighted sagas of searching simplicity in response to this week’s excellent image.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s myopic musings!
There are fewer swimmers in the Mediterranean now.
At this time of year, late October, the holiday season is over, and the weather is cooler.
Where I swim, far out past the end of the jetty, I rarely see anyone.
From here the few people on the beach look tiny, and to them my head is just a minute black dot.
So, when I see a figure floating in the choppy waves, I am curious.
As I approach it I determine it is a lady, grey-haired, somebody’s grandmother, no doubt.
She appears to be unperturbed by the blustery conditions.
She is relaxed, on her back, gazing at the sky.
She has not noticed me.
I slip under the water, find her hair.
A quick jerk and she is under, floundering, gasping, swallowing.
I pull her downwards, just long enough, then kick for the next bay, at the other side of the pier.
That was fun.