She stood on the pier, head cocked. Sea mist enclosed her in a shroud of impenetrable greyness, hiding the bay. Only sound existed. Unseen waves crashed against an unseen rocky headland. Unseen leaves rustled. Overheard, unseen gulls mewled. The sound she longed for – unheard.
Mist moistened her face, disguised the tears. Tears she had shed these past three days. Three days without sleep, three days of waiting, worrying, hoping. Three days with no news.
Behind her, in the house, a phone rang. A muffled conversation seeped through the mist. The screen door squealed open.
“Martha, they’ve found the boat.”
(The challenge: write a story of 99 words — no more, no less — about sea mist)
#99Words #Fiction #MargaretGHanna
A Prairie Perspective 
Oh my. You have left us not knowing and wanting more.
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That was the point of ending it the way I did. Even I don’t know what happened. Only Martha knows, but will she tell?
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