At Dawn.

He paddled out under pale sky, static waves, the surface smooth as glass. Every stroke cut into his reflection, bleeding sweat and salt water, his calloused hands slipping then finding their place. With each surge forward, the memories came back: learning to dive in this sea, his grandfather beside him as they hunted He`e, shaking hands trying to steady his spear. Surrounded by ocean, he put his paddle down and reached for the pouch near his feet. It was heavy in his hand, the ashes light as they left his fingers, spreading like ink on a mirrored pane, he remembered.

Talk story

  1. Bamboo Buckaroo says:

    Congratulations again, BWU. Darrell and Eric want to go one more round. Hope you submit another good one. Good luck to you in the final round.

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