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Weekly Contest #291
The rush of seas lap at my ears. Sand spills from my head. Red stains the seafoam gathering around my feet. “Fair play,” I say, as coral real and reddening rise where the blood falls. “Play for fare. Fare for a play.” A riptide pulls me down through the ragged arms of a sea’s colourful calcareous bones. I see her, silhouetted against the searing sun, that Cheshire-cat smile dark on her lips. The sea rushes over me. The red of my blood seeps into the crimson of the corals. – She is set on my tail. My tail is a wondrous white—sharper than the ...
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