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Going Home

by Rachael Richey
Originally published by on 02/05/2018

The view from the ferry was spectacular. The granite of the mountains glinted in the dying sun, and light fluffy clouds scudded across the deep blue sky.

She sighed, leaning heavily on the rail. The boat was moving fast, the sea spraying out from beneath, an occasional drop landing on her face.

In the distance she could make out the little port, with its stone jetty. It had to be now. The last thing she wanted was a fuss.

Vaulting agilely up onto the rail, she paused for just a moment, then let herself plummet down into the churning water.

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