Crossing the Isthmus

100 words about star-crossed lovers
(c) TJ Paris 

Crossing the isthmus between Grandisle and Wildisle is safe only during low tide; even then, one rogue wave will sweep the intrepid crosser into the sea. It’s winter – aka rogue wave season.

Violette, only daughter of one of Grandisle’s grandest families, shouldn’t be here.

’We gotta stop this, babe. It’s gonna kill me if you die crossing over.’

‘Ringo, darling. It would kill me if I had to spent the nights locked up in my cage.’

‘I’m serious, Vee,’ he says, voice cracking.

She kisses him.

‘So am I. I will keep risking it, if you meet me or not.’

 

***

Oh my, talk about going off-piste – I could explain how I got from this week’s FFfAW photo prompt to this, but I don’t want to keep you that long. I’d suggest you read more stories instead.

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