The Rising Tides

The tides here swell and spill into the roads, more often now. Houses cling to shore. Most pretend that this is normal because to say goodbye is too hard. But I say goodbye every day as I walk and drive past the waters that I love.

I study the topographic maps. “This Portland neighborhood will be the new peaks island,” I think, as though the change will be gentle. But the sea is a not gentle. Storms will batter the coast and tides will pull the ground from beneath our feet.

We let the low tides trick us. “See,” we say as we kayak out on the waters “the sands are here as they have always been.” And in a far away place, an ice sheet crumbles.

Finalist entry for personal climate stories, 350 Madison’s 2020 #givingtuesday event.

In his clutches

“Ba ha ha ha”

His evil laugh echoed through the house.

“I have you now.”

I curl smaller in the dark space.

He storms from room to room.

I breathe quietly.

The door to the bedroom opens.

He stomps around the room and I wonder if he knows I’m here.

I see the light of the flashlight sweeping back and forth but never shining onto the closet where I hide.

I realize he’s he must be toying with me.

“Ba ha ha ha” he yells and I hear his footsteps running towards me.

I scoop him up.

He holds me tight.

“You’re in my clutches.” He’s says.

I smile, tuck him in and kiss him good night.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/clutch/”>Clutch</a&gt;