Random words generated at http://www.creativitygames.net/
The old foghorn hadn’t sounded an alarm since he’d been a small boy. Dustin sprang from his bed. His feet barely touched the floor as he crossed the room to his attic window. Outside ,beyond the widow walk, he could view the entire bay. His ship was is plain sight and was nestled safely where he’d moored her the night before.
On the horizon was a dark cloud. He could see the Maritime Shop on the point but, beyond that, there was nothing but smoke , as thick as, home-churned butter. His stomach tightened…It’s the Nancy Gayle he whispered.
It took him only seconds to slip on his clothes. His Uncle’s old battered yellow slicker brushed his hand as he reached for his jacket. This stirred memories that flashed like lighting, in and out, of his mind…
He was sitting at the table in his mother’s kitchen. He’d just turned eight and was finally old enough to go out fishing but ,this time, he had the chicken pox. Cripes sake! He’d recovered long before the two weeks was over and had spent all his time just looking out toward open seas beyond the harbor. Uncle Dave entered the kitchen. That yellow slicker was new and bright.
” I have a surprise for you, Dusty. C’mon down to the pier soons you’re dressed.”
The next flash…he was beholding the Nancy Gayle for the very first time. What a beautiful lady she was! Pristine, shiny oak untarnished, yet, by the mighty ocean with her salty spittle.
Kaboom! An explosion woke him from his memory. The horizon cloud was turning blacker. Just as he shot out the door, he leaned back and grabbed the slicker.
“I’m comin’ Uncle Dave. Hang on…”