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mary_j_59Author Mary Johnson
Title Far From Home
Genre Short story, complete, about 1,000 words. Rated G
Credits Thanks to David in writing club for issuing this challenge, and to my sister for reading!
Summary An elderly lady and her little grandson see something extraordinary on a trip to the beach. The story follows the cut:
Far From Home
The blues were running when Rose saw the creature. There was a fine, cold rain and very little wind, but the water was full of ripples from the young fish streaming into the sound. And something else; something big that was hunting them. A school of dolphins, maybe? Rose squinted at the smooth, black back that emerged for a second and vanished again. A whale? Just one creature, at any rate, and far too big for a dolphin. She kept staring out beyond the lighthouse, squinting a bit, but the animal stayed submerged. Or so she thought. Then she heard her grandson's voice, shrill with excitement, from the rocks to her left. "Nana! Look! It's a dinosaur!"
She turned and saw the little boy, in his Red Sox sweatshirt and battered sneakers, perched on a boulder like a gull. "Joseph! Come back to the path," she called. "Come here!"
He usually obeyed at once, but not this time. He shook his head and waved his arms wildly, as though he could take to the air. "It's a real dinosaur, Nana! Look! She likes me!"
Had the whale beached itself? She must go and see. Sighing, she picked her way in a semicircle toward the rock her grandson stood on. It was the long way round, and she didn't want to disturb the plovers who were nesting there, but she had no choice; she couldn't clamber over the tumble of boulders by the shore as the child had. He knees were too stiff and arthritic. She had to climb a bit, after all, in order to reach him, but in the end she stood on a smaller rock next to his. When she had straightened up, she froze. The breath was knocked out of her and for a moment she wasn't sure her heart was still beating. The next thing she knew was that she was standing on the path again with her arms around her grandson, gasping for breath. Joseph looked puzzled and frightened. "Nana?" he said to her, "what's wrong? Are you mad at me?"
"No. No, I'm not mad," she answered. She could see he was on the verge of tears, and she felt like crying herself. A dinosaur! A real, honest-to-God dinosaur, here on the coast of New England. "I gave her my sandwich, though," Joseph piped.
"What, sweetie? What did you say?"
"My baloney sandwich. I threw it in the water for the gulls, and she ate it. I know I'm not s'posed to waste food," the little boy muttered, looking at his feet, "but I don't like baloney."
"Oh, Joseph, sweetie. That's nothing. I'm not mad at you."
"She liked my sandwich, Nana. I bet she wants some more."
"That's a wild animal, Joe. You stay away from her."
"It's not a wild animal, Nana! It's a Plesiosaur," Joseph announced firmly. "And she likes me. See?" As he spoke, the little boy tugged at her hand, bringing her uphill to where there was a platform with a telescope. The beast - plesiosaur? - had not vanished, but was still floating near the shore. Surely it would beach itself; wasn't the water much too shallow for it? "Look, Nana," Joseph said, and waved his hand, his fingers outspread. To Rose's utter amazement, the animal turned on its side and raised a long flipper into the air, as if it were waving back. Joseph laughed, and Rose heard herself laughing, too, partly in response to him, and partly at the animal. She still had her own baloney sandwich in her bag. On an impulse, she unzipped it, unwrapped the bread and sausage, and flung it into the sound, just as Joseph must have done a few moments earlier. The sandwich came apart when it hit the water, and the beast seemed to nuzzle the waves for it, first picking up the bread, which floated, and then ducking her head for the meat. Once she had finished, she looked over at them like a dog or cat begging for more. "No," Rose heard herself saying, just as she would have spoken to Blackie, the lab they had owned before Joseph was born, and she spread her hands wide to show they were empty. What was she thinking? Did she expect the beast to understand her? Reptiles weren't as smart as dogs, or were they? Was a plesiosaur a reptile? She was on the verge of asking Joseph - this was the kind of thing little boys knew better than their grandmothers - when she heard him ask a question instead. "Is she lost, Nana? Is my dinosaur lost?"
"Yes, Joseph," she said, "at least, she is a long way from home."
"Where is her home?"
"In Scotland," Rose answered, "a long way from here."
"How will she get back?" Joey asked, and, as she looked down at him, she saw him staring back at her with his grandfather's warm brown eyes. She still had Joao's boat; she had been thinking of selling it, after he died, but somehow it seemed so complicated and she had not yet found a buyer. It was in dry dock now. She could get it out. And, suddenly, she pictured taking the boat north and east. Joseph would go too, of course. She imagined the two of them on the deck of the little fishing boat, in places she had never seen. The Grand Banks, where fog hung summer and winter, and where the fisherman from Portugal had made their living for centuries. The huge schools of cod - smaller now than they had been, but still immense - and the seabirds wheeling. Whales breaching in the open ocean. Rocky, mountainous shores - Maine, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and then Ireland. She saw it in her mind's eye, green and welcoming - some of her ancestors had come from there, but she had never visited. No, she had never travelled. Why not? Then, after Ireland, the cold seas around Scotland, and the lake this beast must have come from. A long journey; very long. But Joao's boat was sturdy and had never let him down, no more than he had ever let her down. If she set out in it, she would be safe. Her Joao would look after her. Little Joseph's hand was in hers, and he was asking her a question. "Nana? How will she get home? Is she lost?"
"No, she isn't lost, Joey," she answered. "We'll take her. We will show her the way home."
Title Far From Home
Genre Short story, complete, about 1,000 words. Rated G
Credits Thanks to David in writing club for issuing this challenge, and to my sister for reading!
Summary An elderly lady and her little grandson see something extraordinary on a trip to the beach. The story follows the cut:
Far From Home
The blues were running when Rose saw the creature. There was a fine, cold rain and very little wind, but the water was full of ripples from the young fish streaming into the sound. And something else; something big that was hunting them. A school of dolphins, maybe? Rose squinted at the smooth, black back that emerged for a second and vanished again. A whale? Just one creature, at any rate, and far too big for a dolphin. She kept staring out beyond the lighthouse, squinting a bit, but the animal stayed submerged. Or so she thought. Then she heard her grandson's voice, shrill with excitement, from the rocks to her left. "Nana! Look! It's a dinosaur!"
She turned and saw the little boy, in his Red Sox sweatshirt and battered sneakers, perched on a boulder like a gull. "Joseph! Come back to the path," she called. "Come here!"
He usually obeyed at once, but not this time. He shook his head and waved his arms wildly, as though he could take to the air. "It's a real dinosaur, Nana! Look! She likes me!"
Had the whale beached itself? She must go and see. Sighing, she picked her way in a semicircle toward the rock her grandson stood on. It was the long way round, and she didn't want to disturb the plovers who were nesting there, but she had no choice; she couldn't clamber over the tumble of boulders by the shore as the child had. He knees were too stiff and arthritic. She had to climb a bit, after all, in order to reach him, but in the end she stood on a smaller rock next to his. When she had straightened up, she froze. The breath was knocked out of her and for a moment she wasn't sure her heart was still beating. The next thing she knew was that she was standing on the path again with her arms around her grandson, gasping for breath. Joseph looked puzzled and frightened. "Nana?" he said to her, "what's wrong? Are you mad at me?"
"No. No, I'm not mad," she answered. She could see he was on the verge of tears, and she felt like crying herself. A dinosaur! A real, honest-to-God dinosaur, here on the coast of New England. "I gave her my sandwich, though," Joseph piped.
"What, sweetie? What did you say?"
"My baloney sandwich. I threw it in the water for the gulls, and she ate it. I know I'm not s'posed to waste food," the little boy muttered, looking at his feet, "but I don't like baloney."
"Oh, Joseph, sweetie. That's nothing. I'm not mad at you."
"She liked my sandwich, Nana. I bet she wants some more."
"That's a wild animal, Joe. You stay away from her."
"It's not a wild animal, Nana! It's a Plesiosaur," Joseph announced firmly. "And she likes me. See?" As he spoke, the little boy tugged at her hand, bringing her uphill to where there was a platform with a telescope. The beast - plesiosaur? - had not vanished, but was still floating near the shore. Surely it would beach itself; wasn't the water much too shallow for it? "Look, Nana," Joseph said, and waved his hand, his fingers outspread. To Rose's utter amazement, the animal turned on its side and raised a long flipper into the air, as if it were waving back. Joseph laughed, and Rose heard herself laughing, too, partly in response to him, and partly at the animal. She still had her own baloney sandwich in her bag. On an impulse, she unzipped it, unwrapped the bread and sausage, and flung it into the sound, just as Joseph must have done a few moments earlier. The sandwich came apart when it hit the water, and the beast seemed to nuzzle the waves for it, first picking up the bread, which floated, and then ducking her head for the meat. Once she had finished, she looked over at them like a dog or cat begging for more. "No," Rose heard herself saying, just as she would have spoken to Blackie, the lab they had owned before Joseph was born, and she spread her hands wide to show they were empty. What was she thinking? Did she expect the beast to understand her? Reptiles weren't as smart as dogs, or were they? Was a plesiosaur a reptile? She was on the verge of asking Joseph - this was the kind of thing little boys knew better than their grandmothers - when she heard him ask a question instead. "Is she lost, Nana? Is my dinosaur lost?"
"Yes, Joseph," she said, "at least, she is a long way from home."
"Where is her home?"
"In Scotland," Rose answered, "a long way from here."
"How will she get back?" Joey asked, and, as she looked down at him, she saw him staring back at her with his grandfather's warm brown eyes. She still had Joao's boat; she had been thinking of selling it, after he died, but somehow it seemed so complicated and she had not yet found a buyer. It was in dry dock now. She could get it out. And, suddenly, she pictured taking the boat north and east. Joseph would go too, of course. She imagined the two of them on the deck of the little fishing boat, in places she had never seen. The Grand Banks, where fog hung summer and winter, and where the fisherman from Portugal had made their living for centuries. The huge schools of cod - smaller now than they had been, but still immense - and the seabirds wheeling. Whales breaching in the open ocean. Rocky, mountainous shores - Maine, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and then Ireland. She saw it in her mind's eye, green and welcoming - some of her ancestors had come from there, but she had never visited. No, she had never travelled. Why not? Then, after Ireland, the cold seas around Scotland, and the lake this beast must have come from. A long journey; very long. But Joao's boat was sturdy and had never let him down, no more than he had ever let her down. If she set out in it, she would be safe. Her Joao would look after her. Little Joseph's hand was in hers, and he was asking her a question. "Nana? How will she get home? Is she lost?"
"No, she isn't lost, Joey," she answered. "We'll take her. We will show her the way home."
