Blank Spaces


Verity lay on the deck of her ship, skin burnt, throat dry, exhaustion tearing at her like a mauling tiger. Sunlight stung at her eyes, dancing on endless waters. Three days she had sailed without sight of land, torn off course by the storm.

A crack. Wood on stone.

She opened her eyes to see a tower and a wall of brick, stretching off into the distance, cutting through water that shifted like molten glass.

Finding footholds, she climbed, pulling herself over the railing. The only sound was the wind’s whisper. The tower was empty.

But there was brick and that meant there had to be land at the end of it. There had to be people.

Stumbling in the heat, she followed the wall into the distance.

She didn’t know how far she walked: a mile, two miles, a hundred miles. Still, there was nothing but the wall and the ocean.

Verity collapsed onto hard stone. She lay there, meeting the sun’s unblinking glare.

In the half-blind haze, her mind crackling with static, she saw two slender figures walking towards her and understood where she was: beyond maps, beyond geography, in the blank spaces of the infinite unknown.

Word Count: 199

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Photo credit to A Mixed Bag.

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