Called Away

Two boys and a parting of their ways.

    “What if there’s nothing there?” asked the slender boy as he shuffled through mounds of tiny pebbles.
    “Well, I won’t know ‘til I get there, will I?”
    “But you’ll get lost…”
    “That I may,” came the reply. He was struggling with the heavy wooden boat, the hull thickened by the previous night’s rainstorm, bedecked with fronds of seaweed. “Give me a hand.”
    Gradually the black, lumpen, barnacled vessel began to shift in the stones, carving a route through the beach, which parted like slow water.
    The morning was dull and clouded; deep green surrounding hills were heavy with expectation as they witnessed the two figures below. A single gull, unseen, screeched a warning from a far off place, while each retiring wave pulled a crackling hiss from the mass of pebbles at their feet. Back in the village, there was a light on in one of the houses. Probably Mrs. Mullen, they had surmised, up at dawn to make her porridge and sit with her cat. She wouldn’t be looking. She was half blind, half deaf and took notice of no more than she wished to.
    “Come on, push it!” Urged the boy.
    “It’s going.”
    At length the bow met the foaming white surf and was lifted, lessening the grinding, scraping return from the grudging shore. It nodded with the waves, pulsing and pushing, compelled to cast into the surging greyness.

    “Don’t,” said the boy.
    “I must,” said the other.

    They had both heard it the night before. Amidst the wailing of the wind and crashing of waves on the rocks. The rain had been hitting their bedroom windows with a fierceness and all living things that could, had found a hole, a rocky cleft in which to hide from the storm.
It had come like a call for help, a pleading appeal; sung, not shouted through the raging bliss of squall. Both had lain awake, eyes wide open, hearing the unrelenting entreaties with ears pursuing sound after sound along the sand-smacked coast. The words were lost to the weather, but the pleading was always the same.
       
“Come, come.
Please come to save us.
We are of the sea.
The mermaids are we.
You must come or we shall surely die.”

With a final, sloshing rasp, the boat sliced into the water and the boy jumped aboard.
    “Be back for tea. And tell me all about them,” the slender boy pressed.
    His friend was already rowing away.
“Aye,” he replied, “that I may.” and he pulled away from shore.

The slender boy watched. He watched until the boat and its captain became vague and opaque. He watched, though the wind pulled hard at his coat and muddled the hair on his head. He watched as his friend became part of the sea.
Turning, he trod heavily back up the shingly slope, and looked up in time to see the light in the village turn softly out.

Reviews

[Chantal-lise Mirman]

What a wonderfully rich tapestry you weave! Against the evocative backdrop of a beach described to the smallest detail and the echo of the mermaids/selkies/sirens, there is a simply-told story of two boys. Though we are not privy to the outcome of the young mariner's search, it has marked the end of an era for the boy left behind, who will forevermore think of the road not taken.

While this is a lovely vignette, a snapshot of coastal life, I can easily imagine it as part of a larger book including the implications of this boyhood choice.

Your powers of description are superb and your choice of language, succulent. I am in love with this wistful tale...

[skacsimm]

Where's the rest? You have to make this more. It really is wonderful, and I really love the way you can get so much detail in with so few words.
Isn't it so true though, there's always someone willing to take a chance, and someone who takes the easy path, content with being safe.
Who knows which one is the right choice? If the boy on the boat wins the day, he will be the smart one, but if he fails, that sentiment will of course fall to the boy who stayed behind. Choices, don't you love them?
This only leaves you wondering if he was able to save the mermaids and what adventures he finds himself in.

[[untitled]]

This is really moving and ever so touching, it's sincere as well, You write story's very well, i like this well written write.

[Star-Runner]

This is such a touching and soft write here, I like your write here very well penned.

[Jessica Young]

This is beautifully written. Soft and compelling- 'Don't tell, but show ' way to take the old adage to heart.
Thanks for the read
Jessica

[MYBALLS]

very touching

[Michael X]

andrew, i am still at the seashore watching the events unfold,
wishing and hoping, you have written this with clarity that speaks the
imagery into existance in thought and emotion, Magnificent story
telling, moving, regarding the over all messege, dramatic in essense,
there are many different aspects to this work of creative heart,
one boy taking the journey of his life, the other awaits in anticipation,
you could truly script this into a series, it leaves the reader begging
to know what happens next, yet, is ended to perfection, Bravo! peace, mike

[Kristina Moulaison]

This is superbly written. Its affect is magical. Words are woven to create deep visuals. I feel as though you have opened a window for me. I am inspired...so in love with this.

[Adamdust]

This particular piece is a noisy one. There are a lot of noise elements combating the ear, but visually, it is rather wide, from the village, down the shingly slope to the shore and out to sea (and wherever the undisclosed locale of the call comes from).I can imagine the heavy wooden boat, too heavy almost for two boys to push on their own, but i also imagine it is in rough shape (i thought barnacles took a long time to grow on surfaces, but i don't know nautical things).two boys, one is slender, the other is ambitious, but that's about all we know. in a sense, it is strategic to withhold info on certain things, and again, it is good to not reveal too much so the reader has room to imagine what they want. But, maybe a little something extra to help even the narrative voice distinguish the two (the tow-headed, the flaxen-haired boy, etc.) Of course the unfolding of the narrative, for the undistracted reader, will eventually bury the need to distinguish them by minutia.(don't you hate readers who demand way too many details about how characters look? i do).I had a problem with your word choice with the boy out at sea who "became vague and opaque."my original problem was with opaque. i think, opaque as in, light doesn't pass through it, a dark object. then i picture the boat way out there, dark but with few to no details. So vague became my next target, i'd say vague is ok too if the boat didn''t exactly appear like a boat.what i really wish si that it read "obscure and opaque" -- i know i know, nit-picking it seems is my forte, but i think here is a chance to set a mood and with "vague" i'm thinking of something unintelligible, hard to conceive or grasp with the faculties of thought and judgment, difficult to understand with any distinction of character (and something opaque, though without detail is a specifically dark solid perception, whereas with "obscure" i'm thinking of a hard perceptual fact.This is what makes me a freak. I read and compare how dictionaries an vocab books define words. like how different translations of The Iliad read better than others. "The rain had been hitting their bedroom windows with a fierceness and all living things that could, had found a hole, a rocky cleft in which to hide from the storm." i'm looking at the comma use which fragments the last clause so that it feels misplaced altogether. so reread it liek this: "The rain had been hitting their bedroom windows with a fierceness and all living things that could had found a hole, a rocky cleft, in which to hide from the storm.""It had come like a call for help, a pleading appeal; sung, not shouted through the raging bliss of squall" -- i feel like this is your opportunity to showcase a strange and mythical quality that underliees this story. The call comes, but in simile. why not just say the call sang trhogh the air, and stirred the hero's heart within the boy? or something or sharpened their adventurous spirit?i say so because i was hung up on whether "pleading appeal" was oxymoronic. and, it's hard to imagine a call for help that is perceived like a song (or just melodically). Of course, this also embellishes the deep relationship to mythical beings to human ones, and it seems the mythic know exactly how to enchant human into action. A human in need of help cries to high heaven, wailing and agonizing. A mermaid or fairy probably sings and the notes probably stir the heart of heroes in humans everywhere. that's almost irrestible.as for dialogue, the slender boy pressed, urged the boy, came the reply -- these things seem to force out certain nuances. I always prefer the simple "he said" and i can't tell if they are describing the tone or quality of the speaking, or are physical actions that accompany the characters while they are speaking "came the reply" differs but it seems to suck the statement of its air and resonance, came the reply -- came from where? i'mnot that lame that i need to be spoon-fed, but "came the reply" is not even a matter of style, it seems like a lazy way to avoid feeling repetitive when writing "he replied"i think in dialogue, "he said he asked he replied he shouted" is the best way to go. it's simple, its easy, people aren't waiting to see How something was said that can't first be implied through the reading of the dialogue itself.luckily, you didn't abuse the adverb, which i feel detracts from nouns and verbs. adverbs in my opinion, basically say "i don't have faith in the verbs and nouns to speak for themselves."what do yu think?aside, i'm excited when reading this. i wonder aboutt he nature of the call, the sound of it, the roar of other elements nearly drowning it out. i wonder about the decisions to go on the boat, to go looking, and of course, i anticipate he won't comebakc, or at least not the same as when he left. i expect someone to go looking for him, and that the action may follow the second person in discovering what hapened to the first, and along the way discover more than he bargained for.

[Michael Lasalle]

Andrew, this is a fantastic story,your wording and form layout addedto the effect, a tale of journey,chronicling an account of risk,adventure, and the rewards gainedby such experiences. Nice job. mike

[Katherine Moure]

"heavy with expectation"
"took notice of no more than she wished to"

Great prose. I'm impressed. After all of the discouraging tripe I run into at school and amidst the chaotic flurry of nothingness that plagues writerscafe, it would be an understatement to call this "refreshing."

Sometimes I miss the coast; I haven't found my sirens yet.