One submission today.
Over the sea the memory of my children is as a dream, fled.
Tell me that I am doing the right thing.
I am building a ship, with my bare hands.
This has taken, so far, over two years. It is not complete yet. I make it of metal, and oak.
I am afraid that it will not be done in time, for, like Noah, I have a presumption, a prognostication, a little inkling . . .
Something is coming home to roost.
Some memory becomes entangled in the present and so wages war against our senses . . .
Tell me that I am free! Tell me that I am brave! Tell me that you will follow me into the sea.
This opening certainly prepares me for the journey to come. It is epic, poetic, and ultimately rewarding. My overall impression, however, is that there is something missing, some small disconnect or blurred focus that keeps the story from quite succeeding as it should. Also, the overall imporession is one of water, wet, not parch. I could make a case for the story fitting, but it actually impresses me more as a part of the Steel Cities anthology.
I’ve asked the author for further information. I do hope this comes through. It’s very different, and haunting.