Photo Prompt @ Sandra Crook
She never tired of this view. Every night, she came to the lovely, long pier on the bay to watch the sunset. The sky turned to watercolors.
The sun was down now, but she stayed on the pier for the companionship of the locals and to watch the nighttime water birds.
It was her last night on the island. She thought she would be back next winter. In the coming summer, the hurricane made a direct hit on the island. It caused destruction to both the island and to her. She knew she would never see the magical island again.
*I cheated a little this week. This is a true story slightly fictionalized.
Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff for hosting #FridayFictioneers!
The Write Scribe 
Most of my stories are based on truth so, no apologies necessary.
And how sad to see a beloved place blown away by natural disasters!
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Time carves away the places, but memory is eternal
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That’s the truth, Neil, though sometimes I wish it wasn’t.
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A memory can survive when so much else does not. Well done.
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Thank you!
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Lovely descriptions. ‘The sky turned to watercolours.’ Beautiful. Sad that this is based on truth – destructive weather events are terrifying and to lose the beautiful places on earth is devastating.
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Thank you so much!
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Nature has a way of deciding things for us. At least she grasped that moment while she could.
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How sad. Well done.
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There is nothing certain, but, like the others have said, she will always have her memories of the place. Well done!
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R.M. really like the communing she has with nature. Sorry to hear your perfect paradise and the peace of mind it brought to you have been disrupted :(
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I don’t think using the truth to tell a story is cheating, it only makes it better.
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Thank you, Alicia!
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Nothing last forever can become very personal and painful. This being a true story makes it even more profound.
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Thank you so much!
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Destruction can bring forth new life, yet true love means we will always grieve for what is lost
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I’d say most of our stories are true stories slightly fictionalized.
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Beautiful places, stages, people–it’s so hard to let go and often isn’t our choice. It makes things more precious, somehow.
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