By Neel Anil Panicker
From the edges Rajesh watches on helplessly as the turbulent sea births wave upon monstrous wave of high frothy waters which then angrily swim towards the rocky weed filled edges only to crash and die untimely deaths.
He throws the emptied vodka bottle, his third of the evening, and watches as it crashes into the rocks below, smashing into tiny fragments, the noise boring deafening holes into his ravaged ears.
He casts one long last look at the darkish turbulence stretched out before his eyes that seem to say to him “Sorry, we’re CLOSED Please come back tomorrow’, and then walks back to his hotel.
No ship came in today, this week, or the week before.
‘Such things should not bother you. You keep the faith, stand vigil by the shore, keep the same hours every day’, said his pot belied agent, the one who he had paid all that he had received after selling off one of his kidneys, the one who promised him a passage to America.
Back in his rat infested dingy room sans electricity and lights, he squats on the floor, blindfolds himself to the dirt, squalor, and stench around him, and eases into sweet dreams.
He’s in his village. Inside his red bricked mud hut. He sees his wife and two children, the youngest barely two months, their eyes expectant and smiling, their hearts filled with juicy hopes of a new future in a new land that they believe is an ocean of infinite joy.
©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction # short story # 250 words #thursdayphotoprompt
Written for Thursday photo prompt – Horizon #writephoto