Sunday Photo Fiction – Raft, No Reaps

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I can see it from the dock; those golden sails that dim moonlight in their transparency.  The flapping softboxes light the deck, now a scenic set, for the maritime music to slip through the air like a celestial whisper.  The music drives closer as I see my intended passengers- those lost souls that seek guidance.  Those souls were ghostly dancers on the ship, and that ship I could not cruise to the Hereafter.

They swayed in twos, gliding across the stage under the radiance of the stars that shined on them like moths under a flame, but they feared no longer.  Under the delicacy of the melodies I could hear each spirit murmur to their partner-

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

                    -again and again like the chorus with no cadence.

It is my profession to bring those to peace, but some, few, do not need brought; few may find peace, but it is always in love.

I shredded my contracts as the vessel floated by and deemed such romance could stand the eternity it was sentenced.


Others here.

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