Truman thought a spider was crawling on his fingers at that moment but when he peered down through the darkness there was nothing there. The brisk air from the ocean smelt of salt, was fresh and invigorating, though he was dead tired. From the lookout he had the town’s best view of the port, and imagined that from beyond the bluff the ship on which Jed had sailed was returning, was about to emerge and eclipse the setting moon. He closed one eye and held his thumb to the cliff’s edge, followed the ship, stewarding it from its hidden place toward the safety of the harbour.
Thanks for checking out my short story.
Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!
—Gabriel Muoio
$1.00
