Foreshore...

A little light reading...

One morning,as I sat alone in my living room,relaxing in what was left
of my
armchair,I was suddenly aware of a scratching and whimpering sound
outside
my front door. I got up,flicked on the porch light,and opened the door
warily.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw as I did so,for there
before
me,shivering with cold,was the sea.

She apologised for disturbing me,but as the night was so cold and she
was
soaking wet,she asked whether she could come inside for a while,and
warm
herself by my fire. How could I refuse one so beautiful? I escorted her
into my
living room,and made her comfortable in my chair,and I went to fetch
her a
bath towel from my airing cupboard. I gave her the towel,which was
warm,soft
and freshly laundered,and she started to dry her long,green flowing
hair
gratefully.

We sat together late into the night,as she recounted tales of her
travels to far
distant shores,and I was mesmerised by her,and the way she cast
rainbow
refractions of firelight around the room. I felt as though I was being
drawn
into her depths,and I would willingly drown. Slowly and painlessly,I
drifted
into sleep.

When I awoke next morning,I was entirely alone. She had gone! Had it
all
been a dream? If so,why were my towels all wet and muddy,and why was
there
a revolting dead mackerel on my carpet?