The Lighthouse

the lighthouse

20 November 2017

10 of 12: Elise's photo

(Two more to go!)

Prompt: She didn’t want it anyway | Word Count: 300 | Genre: Fiction

It had been a long wait in the dark, wet night. Elise was cold inside and out, from nerves and icy rain. It felt like hours had gone by since she’d lined up with the others, yet surely that wasn’t possible - the ship would be well and truly sunk before hours passed.

The shivering crowd of women was remarkably calm as they were directed into one lifeboat or another, shuffling together this way and that like slow-moving schools of fish. Five heavy wooden boats had been lowered so far. As Elise inched nearer to the railing, she could look down and see them at the mercy of the heaving waves. The dozens of women in each huddled together in miserable masses. Were they frightened, or relieved?

A hand tugged at her sleeve, and she looked up to see a ship’s steward standing next to her.
“One,” he said, looking from Elise to the woman beside her. “It’s fair sorry I am, ladies, but there is room for only the one of you.”

“You can’t be serious!” protested Elise. “What difference does it make, one or two more people in an already crowded lifeboat?”

“It’s true there are more than should be inside the raft, but I can squeeze in one other… not more,” he said with an almost apologetic lift of a shoulder.

Elise looked at the creased and dirty photo in her hand. A young man smiled out at her from it, the medal on his chest now pinned to the lapel of her coat. Women on either side of her bumped and stumbled into Elise, causing her to lose balance. The photo fell from her fingers to the wet deck, quickly disappearing under wet boots stamping in the cold.

“Take her,” she said, pushing the other woman forward.

Prompt: She didn’t want it anyway | Word Count: 300 | Genre: Fiction

It had been a long wait in the dark, wet night. Elise was cold inside and out, from nerves and icy rain. It felt like hours had gone by since she’d lined up with the others, yet surely that wasn’t possible - the ship would be well and truly sunk before hours passed.

The shivering crowd of women was remarkably calm as they were directed into one lifeboat or another, shuffling together this way and that like slow-moving schools of fish. Five heavy wooden boats had been lowered so far. As Elise inched nearer to the railing, she could look down and see them at the mercy of the heaving waves. The dozens of women in each huddled together in miserable masses. Were they frightened, or relieved?

A hand tugged at her sleeve, and she looked up to see a ship’s steward standing next to her.
“One,” he said, looking from Elise to the woman beside her. “It’s fair sorry I am, ladies, but there is room for only the one of you.”

“You can’t be serious!” protested Elise. “What difference does it make, one or two more people in an already crowded lifeboat?”

“It’s true there are more than should be inside the raft, but I can squeeze in one other… not more,” he said with an almost apologetic lift of a shoulder.

Elise looked at the creased and dirty photo in her hand. A young man smiled out at her from it, the medal on his chest now pinned to the lapel of her coat. Women on either side of her bumped and stumbled into Elise, causing her to lose balance. The photo fell from her fingers to the wet deck, quickly disappearing under wet boots stamping in the cold.

“Take her,” she said, pushing the other woman forward.

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