It’s time again – it’s past time – for Friday Fictioneers. So here’s my story, an entire day and almost a half ahead of this week’s deadline…
I am a deep-sea diver.
I paw with clumsy hands through the debris of other lives, a vase, a rusty hammer, a discarded leg. Once somebody valued them all, or wanted to. Why? Who knows. Their meaning is lost now, whatever it was. But it seems important to study them one by one, lift them, consider them, watch the startled crabs scuttle away to a new hiding place, wait for the sand to settle.
There are no crabs. There is no sand. Only an empty cluttered house, and a figure searching for order. As hopeless as sweeping back the tide.