Here’s my foggy scene, which has been inspired by the excellent BBC programme, ‘Poldark’:
The ship creaked as it changed course, heading straight for the ragged, jagged rocks which would shortly tear its heart out. From the cliff path, I could just make out the diffuse light from its lanterns, glowing eerily in the sea mist.
It didn’t seem possible that the decoy lights on the beach had been sufficiently bright to slice through the thick, grey blanket that enveloped the cove and everyone in it. Had the merchant ship been further out to sea, it would have passed by unaware of the treachery that awaited it and its crew, but as so often happened on nights such as these, the boat hugged the coast, and it would soon pay the price.
I couldn’t see the men and women who were poised on the beach, ready to salvage the cargo and to deal with any survivors, but I knew that almost every villager would be there, somewhere. Tiny noises came from all parts of the cove confirming their presence – a muffled cough, a whispered command, the soft footfall of someone clambering over rock down by the waves. But everyone was invisible, concealed in the murkiness which would hide their deeds tonight.
Beside me, my mother tensed as a cry rang out through the gloom, followed by the thunderous crash of splintering wood. The ship struck the rocky pinnacles and the lanterns on the mast slowly sank towards the sea, as the vessel listed. The noise was all the more alarming because it was so close, yet the ship was completely obscured behind the impenetrable greyness.
On deck, someone was frantically ringing a bell as men screamed and jumped into the freezing sea. But still I could see nothing, even the lanterns on the masts had been extinguished.
‘’Tis begun, Mary,’ said my mother, ‘wait here ‘til the goods come ashore, then carry as much as you can. You’ll have a full belly before you sleep tonight, if all goes well.’ And with that, she melted into the mist.
‘But Ma, how long will I have to wait?’ I called after her.
Her ghostly voice floated out of the gloom, ‘As long as it takes.’
But I needn’t have worried about a signal. The unmistakeable sounds of merciless slaughter echoed round the cove and I cowered in the shroud of obscurity until the piercing screams and guttural voices were silenced under the waves, in explosions of bubbles.
When I could only hear familiar voices, I knew it was time to help.
I shivered in the damp, clamminess of the air.
If you would like to read what the other Muse It Up Publishing authors have written, click here to go to the Sunday Musings blog. And if you’d like to read my ebook, ‘Daffodil and the Thin Place’, click here to go to the Muse It Up website or go to your preferred ebook retailer.