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The Girl in Orange

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  • Jan 5, 2020
  • 2 min read

by Sea '21

Lighting strikes, the waves crash. Within the bay a tiny raft fights to stay afloat, like a toy in a bathtub. With each flash of the light an occupant becomes visible. His navy blue fedora and trench coat are illuminated green for a second, before once again being left alone in the utter darkness. As he rows further and further, water pools in the raft; he is soaked to the bone. Looking back west he can't make out whence he came. He's come to far, he's can't turn back anymore, he can only row east.


The dock grows larger and larger, and there she is; standing beneath the light, the girl in orange. Her hair dancing in the wind, her feet planted firmly on the dock, she looks out on to the bay and spots the raft. Their eyes meet once again, and for the first time she sees the water beneath his eyes; is it the rain or is it a tear.


The wind picks up and water rushes over the short bow, the keel buckles and at that moment the oar snaps. In a last desperate attempt he throws the rope up to the dock, it lands just besides her. She appears conflicted for a second, but her feat remain planted in place; she looks out to the sea and smiles.


As the waves push him out to the sea the rope falls into the water. There is nothing more the boy in blue can do, accepting his fate he sits down. The dock and the girl in orange fall into obscurity behind the waves. The old occultist laughs from above: "you've got to learn to swim old sport".

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