Writing Prompt No. 121
His stomach lurched as the horizon bobbed up and down ahead of him.
A plastic chair skittered across the deck somehow managing to remain on all four legs. He didn’t need to do this today. Up and down. Up and down. He kept his gaze steady and out to sea.
Earlier he’d ventured downstairs to buy a coffee but the movement of the boat made him heave and he escaped back upstairs to the outside. The hot sun belied the fact that the wind was strong, blowing across the headland, whipping the waves up and down in its wake. Up and down. Up and down.
Saliva bubbled up from the back of his mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment. The saliva subsided. The acid that was threatening to vomit up, dropped back down into his stomach. The blood drained from his face, his muscles weakened.
Ginger. He had ginger biscuits in his bag. He wrestled with the wrapper splitting it open spilling biscuits into the saltwater puddles that had pooled on the deck. Two were left in his hand. He nibbled on them while leaning into the guardrail.
The ferry was quiet today. Just him and a couple of construction workers heading home after a day’s work. He wondered what he would find on the other side? Dry crumbs caught in his throat. He coughed and coughed until his eyes watered. What was up today? A woman offered him water from a new unopened bottle. Vomit. Choking. It was if something was trying to escape his body.
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