Each night the mist would roll in, shrouding the little fishing village. The boy would wake up early, and be out at first light, disappearing into the cool air before the morning sun burned it away.
He would go down to the shore and watch the boats pull out. The mist made their shapes fuzzy and indistinct, and his imagination replaced them with dragons and leviathans.
He would return home after the boats left, usually to a lecture from his parents to get his head out of the clouds.
At eighteen, he left home and became a successful fantasy artist.

“West Wittering Wonderful As Always – Sept 2012 – Mist on the Solent” by Gareth1953 All Right Now is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

My very short story collection, The Mountain’s Shadow is available now from Amazon and Smashwords!

Everyday Drabbles © 2024 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0