He watched the moon glow red in the sky
throw colour over ripples of grey,
A whiff of a scent as if in a dream,
A flash, then he’s falling away.
Into the deep, green tentacles flap,
as if; happily waving goodbye.
A panic, an unheard scream,
bubbles bursting towards the sky.
Down in the grime the muck and the slime
beside the hull of an upturned boat,
Protrude oars, like arms reaching out …
as if to get ahold of his throat.
An eel comes to look at the boy with a book,
who into the water was spilt.
Who struggles and fights,
his legs disturbing the silt.
Deep down he plunges
The light disappears in a mist,
Like angelic detritus he floats,
intoxicated with heavenly bliss.
The dark clears, a nymph beckons
with barely a flick of her wrist,
A wisp of a thing, lures him deep
Her face he tenderly kissed.
He’s now way below,
Where tides ebb
Hello, my name is Ellen Best. I reside in East Anglia, Suffolk, England. I have stepped away from my traditional working life to write. My favorite book, one I am drawn back to, time and again is Jon McGregor. If nobody speaks of remarkable things. An astonishingly beautifully written book.
My blog is where I experiment with flash fiction, poetry and secretly hide pieces of me. I attempt other genre’s, step out of my comfort zone and procrastinate from my manuscript, my first novel. Follow this link to read about Ellen’s first experience with fantasy writing. I highly recommend it.
You can also follow Ellen’s blog here.