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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The following is a piece of writing submitted by Eric on March 6, 2009
"The sea is a vast medium of loneliness.
A bird is a friend.
Or is he?"


The oscillating tides traversed to and fro in their unfaltering service. It had been days, even weeks since the seaman had seen land and even longer since he had drunk a drop of water. He looked as if he had just returned from a journey to death, with a burnt, fire-ridden face. He was a large man, but had a largeness of bone and tendon, rather than that of muscle. His loose hair clumped together, moving against the wind like a one-winged bird attempting to fly as this man willed his yacht forward, as his will was the only thing left of him which had not left him. He lay there, as if he was the plastic wrapping over the can – pointless; unable to do anything about everything.

He had lain like that for days, doing what he had planned to do – steep in the wonders of the sea. Indeed, he had enjoyed it at first, yet the wonders quickly became horrors, and a man who once sought to learn the sea had become the sea, powerless against the cycle of the waves. But on this day, something had changed. There was something different; the waves had changed their pattern; there was a niche which seemed to demean the uniformity of the sea; in his state of stupor, the man saw a whole, live seagull standing on his crust of an open palm.

The sea spread on in endless, impeccable, dissemination, and it seemed to the man that his only chance had come; his survival could not have been much further prolonged and a chance like this could be the key to his continued existence. He was one man alone in a sea of insatiable waters, waters vying against each other. They were hounds on a leash, waiting for the kill. The endangering sun coupled with the endless waters had brought this man to his endgame but... this one solace sparked a twinkle of hope within him and in a destitute filled manner, the man used the last of his will to clench the bird but however much he wanted and wished for it, he was not able to get it and in a mockingly demeaning manner, the bird flew up and promptly defecated on his hand before flying off.

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