Not much of an actual story today, more of a scene, but here you go anyway.
She loved and hated this time of the year. The season was over, the tourists had all returned to their homes, even the staff were gone for the most part, off on vacations or visiting family. The island was just so quiet. She gazed up at the moon, trying to relax and enjoy the tranquil scene, even as she noticed the water rising above the dock. The island had a tendency to drift back towards this mist at times like these, when she was lonely or contemplative.
It had been five years since she had pulled this island through the veil separating this world from hers, from where seasons came and went, but years never did. It had taken so much energy and will, a lesser one could never have done it, but she had fought and pushed, bargained with the Queen, given up everything to be here, to be free from the court, from the endless political maneuvering. Here on Errannona she was mistress.
On days like this, with only the flowers and the waves to keep her company, she missed the balls and the festivals, she talked to the animals and plots on the island, but it wasn’t the same as talking to her own kind. When the place was filled with couples and families, photographers and travel writers, she was happy. Her resort was loved by the world; a place of mystery and beauty, according to the articles, a luxury well worth the cost.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Then she heard it: a small motor. A boat was speeding in to the bay. As it came closer, she could see the pilot was a handsome man, and alone. He lifted a hand and waved in her direction, and she smiled in recognition. Ah, so she would have company after all. And a prince no less.
As soon as he docked the boat and stepped onto her island, he looked at her, his eyes pleading. “I need your help. Can I stay?”
She didn’t ask what crime he had committed causing him to run to her for sanctuary. She didn’t want to know. She also didn’t want to know who was after him, there would be time enough to deal with that later. “Of course.” She held out her hand and he raised it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
Dottie at Tink’s Place has a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge that I’m enjoying. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday – 350 words, give or take.