The Pearl

She had a pearl. One perfect, opulent pearl. She had been born with it; had never known life without the pearl. When she was young, she hid the pearl from everyone. She didn't  know why she had it, didn't know what to do with it. She didn't know if other people had pearls, or if they had anything like the pearl - one unique, perfect endowment that had been with them as long as they could remember. She was afraid to ask, fearing exposure.

The pearl stayed with her through the years. There was nothing she could do to get rid of it. She felt she would not be the same person without it. Sometimes, that sounded good, when she did not want to be the person she was. She wanted to try on different cloaks, wrap herself in different personas. She felt there was one out there that would suit her better than the one she had.

Still there was this sameness. This pearl. No matter how far away she went, how many different lives she lived, the pearl stayed. It aged with her, became burnished and rich from wear. It suited every cloak she ever wore. It was the perfect accessory to her constantly changing styles. It became more beautiful with age.

Island#3

The ferry's ancient motor started up and the captain gave a short blast of the horn, warning anything in the way to move. It was merely protocol on a day like this. There would be nothing else out on the water. Not in this weather. The tide was coming in, creating a strong current, and the wind was blowing the chop around, high waves already breaking against the bow. There was a storm coming on.

Another storm, thought Elise.

NaBloPoMo#3 Island cont...

Elise weaved her way back through the cars and headed upstairs to the warmth and comfort of the passenger lounge. In good weather, the passage between islands was only ten minutes, but in inclement weather like this, it could take much longer. She was not inclined to spend that much time getting soaked, getting colder than she already was.

She settled into a seat and looked out the window. Ahead, the island rose from the grey chop, a lopsided mountain peak covered in dark green forest and shrouded in thick fog at the top. It had always been a foreboding place in the winter; isolated, far from the mainland. Far from everything. Elise smiled. Though she hadn’t lived there for more than twenty years, it still felt like coming home.

NaBloPoMo 2: Unheeded

Unheeded, his plea faded away into the white noise of the city. His clothing, the color of dust and uv rays, camouflaged him against the cement. No one saw him dissolving in the rain among castoff coffee cups and yesterday's news. Eventually he was washed away into the gutters, swirling briefly at the sewer grate, for once shining bright in a million stars; streetlight refracted in water.

NaBloPoMo1: Island.

The first thing that came to mind was a cup, no, a carafe of coffee. The second, a pen.

Wind blew sea spray across the bow of the ferry where she stood among the cars, bringing her back with a stinging salt slap to the face. The carafe of coffee and the pen would have to wait until this frigid journey ended.