This is something of a collaboration Dad and I did back when I was about 13 or 14; mostly his ideas, but I wrote it out. I entered it into our local homeschoolers’ network creative writing competition; one judge absolutely loved it, but the others thought it was too cryptic.

The Norwegian sun cast a feeble glance over the horizon. Old Bjorn trudged along the beach with his fishing rod and onto the wharf stretching out across the frigid waters. The wharf was slippery with ice. He nearly lost his balance.

After two hours and only three fish, he considered leaving it for the morning. He suddenly sensed someone behind him. He turned to find a small girl staring up at him. She was about six years old, but had the most intense eyes he had ever seen.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m fishing,” he replied, “as I’ve done for twenty years.”
“Who’s that man over there?” she asked, pointing to the opposite side of the wharf where another old man was also fishing.
“He’s my brother,” Old Bjorn said distantly.
“Why don’t you go and talk to him?”
“I haven’t spoken to him in twenty years.”
“Why?”
“Because I stole his fishing spot. Now he has mine.”
The girl was silent for a moment.
“I had a dream that this end of the Wharf would fall into the sea,” she said finally.
“Yes, I know. That’s why I took his place.” He turned to look at her, but she was gone.

 

B”H