The Salty Sailor.

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Photo for friday fictioneers  exclusive use only, by © Fatima Fakier Deria.

Across the harbour he gazed, floating money pits, gin palaces, toys for the wealthy. Phlegm hit his boot, he screwed his eyes against the sun. Stuffing a cheroot between his discoloured teeth he thrust chapped hands deep in his pockets. With hunched shoulders he watched his feet as he scuffed on the dry earth and lurched away. He may earn his living on them but he’d never own one.

Below the harbour was buzzing, tanned yachtsmen flirted with ladies. Coiffed girls with plummy accents giggled and money was no object;  but there was no room for salty sailors in this bar. 
This is a snapshot of a bigger story, curtailing it to 100 words was tough and I hope I captured the irony of the sailors lot. Please leave a comment I love to connect.

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29 thoughts on “The Salty Sailor.

  1. Hello, I wondered i mean Wandered over from the party, and apparently I already Followed you and somehow because I dont get email notifications? well if i didnt see it in the reader i missed out. SO hi and thanks for stoppin round whenever you can, I didnt realize you are England, That makes two now i will chck on from across the pond. Cheers!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Aww poor sailor. I bet he can still taste the sea on his tongue as the elite stroll by without giving him a second thought. I bet the taste of the land turns sour on his breath and he aches for the roaring sea.
    Thank you for sharing Ellen.
    You paint an amazing picture.
    You most definitely serve an amazing treat 😍 yum. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  3. OH hi Ellen I’ve seen you on my friend Paul’s blog and meant to visit you! I love your sweet funny personality and your cover photo made me smile! I love the blog party idea Jacqueline offered! I’m following you now! Have a blessed day new friend!~ღ

    Liked by 1 person

  4. The picture of the sailor, and his relationship to the moneyed crowd in the marina was well-drawn. I felt that probably the harbour had once been his when it was a working port. Another fifty words would have given you a story

    Liked by 2 people

    • It is a great picture, with the harbour, Marina and an obvious working port at its mouth. But I tried to paint the irony of his distaste for the moneyed lot… but he needed the living he earned from them. Thank you for reading. But for a few words a different story we’d make.

      Like

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