Sunday Photo Fiction: Scull and Crossed Bones

Every week a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction of around 200 words. If you want to have a go, then take a look here.

If you want to see what others have written, then click on the little blue ribbit monster.

63 06 June 8th 2014

I look out at the sea as my partner brings the blades down to the water’s edge. My heart is racing as I turn around and smile at her. She nods to me and holds her hands up to show they are shaking. We have trained for this moment for two years. We have told no one, not even our families, our loved ones, our friends. I have not even told my dog.

I give my partner a hug and kiss her on the forehead. I wipe a tear from her cheek at the same time as she does the same to me. We climb aboard with me at the front and her behind, and set our feet on the bars.

The sunrise is barely kissing the horizon as we set off as quietly as possible. As we move further out, we start rowing in earnest, knowing what depends on us.

Five hours later, the tears are streaming down my face as my body screams for me to stop, and I hear my partner sobbing behind me, knowing she is going through the same thing. I look behind me and see the beach.

Three soldiers come out waist deep and pull us to shore. Hands lift us out of the scull and I look over to see my partner’s lifeless eyes staring up. The strain burst her heart. I try to take the message from my breast pocket, but my arms will not move. I try to speak, but am unable to. I hear a kind voice from behind me; “It’s alright son. You done well”. I feel darkness start to overcome me; the last thing I hear is “These two gave their lives to give us confirmation of German numbers. Prepare your men for tomorrow, June 6th. D-Day”


This story shattered the 200 word mark, and went into the 300s. I did not want to cut anything though, as I wanted to write something to honour those that fought, and died, on the beaches of Normandy 70 years ago this weekend.