Cindy Fletcher rocked back and forth with the rhythm of the boat. She kept telling herself she knew where she was, but her inner voice wouldn’t listen; it knew she was lost. She pulled her hoodie around her and peered into the thick, white fog. It had consumed the row boat within minutes, erasing the shoreline and casting Cindy and her childhood friend, Michelle Purdy, into a cloud-like world.
The fog had devoured every sound save the oars striking the water. Michelle rowed in the direction both believed would take them to the wharf where they had rented the boat. In thirty minutes, it would be Cindy’s turn to row again. It would also be 7:00 pm, marking the fourth hour in the fog.
Michelle froze and looked off into the distance.
“What is it?” Cindy gawked in the same direction.
“I thought I heard something.”
They exchanged glances then together began to cry for help. After a minute, they stopped to listen. The silence deafened Cindy. It was as though the screaming had numbed her ear drums.
“I hope it isn’t a ship.” Michelle locked eyes with her friend. “It could run us over and not even know it hit us.”
Cindy stared wide-eyed in the direction Michelle had originally searched. If a ship was barrelling down on them, they wouldn’t have a chance.
…this is the first few paragraphs of The Ocean Between Them, the sixth and final short story for my first anthology, Nova Scotia-Life Near Water.