Why Canadian Rock:
The Trews. Nova Scotia represent!
My Great Grandpa built boats for a living
Names that you likely would recognize
I didn’t notice that when I was small
He was the Grandpa who carved me toys
Summers in the boathouse at Scott’s Bay
Tales of brigs, schooners and barques
He crafted wonder from words and wood
Gifted me an imagination uncharted
Swashbucklers, sea monsters and mermaids
In mirrored boxes, with waves of plaster
Miniature craft of such exquisite detail
He wove tales of pirates, adventure and disaster
I wonder, when people look at his handwork
Displayed so pristinely in museums
Do they feel the magic that’s held inside
And see the treasure charts to dreams
Sometime in 2012
The Huntley was the last ship to be built in Scott’s Bay, Nova Scotia.
This is another of the writing challenges I’ve wanted to try. Usually, there just aren’t enough hours in the week to fit in all the fun things I want to do but then, that’s just another sort of challenge, yes?
Here is a description of the challenge from the blog:
“Every week on a Sunday, a new photo is used as a prompt for Flash Fiction challenge using around 200 words based on that image. Your story does not have to be exactly what the item in the photo is, you can make it anything you want, and enjoy what you write, and we will as well.”
Here is today’s photo challenge:
So participants can stray from the actual photo included and because I’m me, I’m doing that :). I’m also bending the rules slightly in that, this story existed previously but was never published. I did have to type it all up from my copybook 🙂
When I saw the challenge photo, this story came to mind. I wrote it for a school English project when I was about 10 or 11. It’s recreated here (including the mis-spellerings and grammatifications). As my Teacher noted at the time: I have a big imagination. Hope you enjoy.
The Ship’s Bell
Word Count: 224
A foggy night in Nova Scotia wasn’t a nice way to begin a vacation but that’s how mine started.
Through the queer fog, I stood listening to the dismal whining of the wind and the crash of the breakers.All at once I heard the screams of women and the crying of babies; through the din a ship’s bell started clanging.
As fast as I could I ran to my uncle’s cabin. I looked for his book on ghosts of Nova Scotia. I found out anyone hearing the ship’s bell would be drowned as were the fated passengers of the “Wooden Lady”.
Intrigued I read on only to find a ship’s bell was was burned onto the flesh of the drowned person.
I was rather frightened, and didn’t intend to go out, but I seemed to be drawn to the sea. As I walked the mud flats I reasoned that there was nothing to be afraid of. I must have been out a long time and didn’t notice the wave until it engulfed me.
It roared over me! and I was tossed about like a rag doll. A ship’s bell began to clang eerily and I was dressed in old-fashioned clothes. I felt myself pulled down, down, with bodies floating around me. Slowly, slowly, I slipped from reality.
The headlines the next day read:
Birthplace of Glooskap
Legends born in the land of the Mi’kmaq
O’Wellalin for this rugged beauty
My mountain home is calling me
In my veins saltwater flows
Drawing me to my Atlantic home
Oh beloved ocean waves so blue
Not long ’til my heart returns to you
6 February 2014
The Misplaced Mermaid
Definition of Acrostic form sourced from: Shadow Poetry
“Acrostic Poetry is where the first letter of each line spells a word, usually using the same words as in the title.”