We bury the sailors who die in their beds in the graveyard by the sea.
"So they can hear the sea," we tell ourselves.
And every year, in the winter storms, the sea eats more of the land, and claims a few more graves, of long-dead sailors whose calls the sea still hear.
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Micro SF/F stories by O Westin (microsff@mastodon.social)'s status on Sunday, 13-Jan-2019 20:10:23 UTC
Micro SF/F stories by O Westin
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Micro SF/F stories by O Westin (microsff@mastodon.social)'s status on Sunday, 13-Jan-2019 22:48:48 UTC
Micro SF/F stories by O Westin
*whose calls the sea hears.
Apologies for dropping the s.
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