Grandmother had a door painted in all the colours of the sea – from blue to green to grey – and it was always locked with a chain of unbreaking iron.
They said that she had wrestled with the god of the waters and bound him with iron, stone, and wood – a three-fold charm.
When I pressed my ears against the wood, I could hear the ocean – the crash of surf driven endlessly against the cliffs, the cry of lonely birds over grey waves, and the soft whisper of a cold sea breeze.
This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Bogdan Dada for providing the prompt photo!