The sea-spray cuts his face, the bitterly cold gale harshly whipping his hair into his face like daggers. Wincing, the small boy clambers out of the small forsaken boat, onto a storm-damaged beach. Shakily, he takes a step onto the sand, before collapsing in silent agony. His warm brown eyes flicker down to his ankle nervously. Just as he fears, his ankle was bleeding - drastically. The boy struggles down to the ground, sitting down and started to wipe away the blood from his ankle, which was screeching in pain. He flinches as he gently pulls the seaweed that was encasing his ankle. Sourly, the boy unwraps his home-made bandage, revealing the huge splinter that was visible from both sides of just above his ankle. Shivering, he takes a large, shaky breath in, and starts to slowly pull at the piece of wood. Letting out a scream, he lets go, unable to pull it out. Desperately, he wraps the tough seaweed back around his ankle, before shifting onto his side, laying his head down onto the sand. Losing the will to stay awake, the loud crashing of the waves lull him to sleep, drawing him into the safe sanctuary of his mind.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of the Sea
RandomWhen a storm washes up a young boy on the Eastern Coast of Australia, and he claims to be from an island a long way from Moreton Bay, who can believe him? ~~~~~~~~~~~
