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I hit a rough patch of water in my journey toward the sun. Perhaps, this was as far as I should go, and yet I had a yearning to go farther, to meet the sea, and travel beyond this piece of land I called home. The shore was so close, but without my boat, I wouldn’t be able to go on.

The land around me was still bathed in darkness, as the sun was just beginning its rise over the horizon. I contemplated getting out of my boat and walking to the shore, to greet the morning, but thought otherwise, as I did not know if I was alone.

For years I had heard stories of the First Lighters, they who only appeared at dawn. I was told they nestled themselves into the bushes, trees and grass that led up to the ocean, lying in wait for whomever happened along their way. I never did find out what happened to people once they found them. No one ever wanted to talk about that part, but it was enough to pique my curiosity. After all, I was never one who listened to the warnings from the elders. It got me into more trouble than I wish to remember.

Climbing out of the boat, trying to be as quiet as possible, as to not upset the natives, or whatever, I found my footing and began my walk to the water. An occasional crunch under my feet made me stop, just long enough to listen for sounds, other than my own. So far I was doing okay. It wasn’t long before I reached the shoreline, the sun a bit higher, and gleaming a golden path, over the ocean. It was then I realized why the elders were so frightened.

I felt a tugging at my heart as I walked back to my boat, dragging it onto the land, and carrying it to the shore. Gently pushing it into the water, I hopped in, and using my oar, I made my way into the ocean, following the path of the sun as it climbed into the sky. I said my silent goodbyes, and never looked back. Now, I too, had become a First Lighter.


Photo via Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt – Yearning
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