PW: Heave in The Dingy
From Create Your Own Story
Beneath your feet, stones screech as you approach the boat across the nocturnal expanse. Stones are flying and sprawling and cutting into yet more stones, apprehending and setting knives into the fabric of your trousers. This, however, wouldn't last for long.
You grip the boat with your left hand; like a limp weight: you allow your hand to tow on the boat with extraodinary lucidity. The physical adjoining to the wooden sense, as you feel the skin of the bark tear off like caked mortar in your hand: the boat boasts its gravity as soon as it is off the wintry and splintering aqua pathway and bites the harsh stones, as if to transform into a sort of granite its self.
The other faculty you have is lent to the task. The transport is smooth though haggard and your backbone feels activated with effort. Ploughing through these obsidian philosophies of efficiency at a pace full of sloth, until it finally respites into a bed of blazing consistency-spurning.
What is left of the boat, which is surprisingly quite sufficient, lies there artificially between these ancient fragments.
