On the harbor of Nova Scotia, With potty mouthed seamen, and white feathered seagulls; is where I feel inlove for the first time.
At the age of thirteen my first love was not a hormone crazed lad, but the sea itself. Every Saturday, I would wake up with the sun and stroll on the bored walk. I would feel the mist of the sea on my skin, and let the morning fog pass through my fingers. Mum said the Irish in our blood drew us to the sea, she would tell me crazy stories about our family and the sea, like how her great great uncle Paddy loved the sea so much he would spend hours upon hours out on his boat everyday. The amount of time he would spend out in the sea increased everyday, and one day he just never came back.
But this story is not about great great uncle Paddy and the ludicrous Irishmen and women I call family, nor is it about my love for the sea. Lads, this story is about the days leading up to my death... murder to be precise.
YOU ARE READING
Anchor
Mistero / ThrillerWe're drowning in this complexe idea that only love can save us and we anchor each other to the depths until one of us can no longer breath as we gasp for air we realize; It didn't have to come to this But life's too short to not love...
