Flash Fiction Friday
Mackinac Island: Across the Lake(Part 2)
The second installment in my Mackinac Island series. See the other parts here.
Following the horizon away from the island the bridge wanders into view. Its green framework remains barely discriminate from the dark blue sky, which lingers just outside the reaching hands of the morning sun. Even so, the towers contrast brilliantly. Their naturally white color washes cream in the warm rays. The two stand out against the cool landscape like sentinels sent to protect, one for each lake that the bridge separates.
Nearer and nearer the ferry moves. The shadow of the island transforms into an unmistakable land mass. The sun, now higher, warms the air in an attempt to wake the earth, to waft away the haze and the seemingly endless night from the world. The once subtle glow of the water intensifies. It burns its image into the eyes of its watcher, following them in the form of a line. Across the water the line leads like a path to the dark island beyond, as if beckoning the watcher to come closer.
All the while the water splashes. Displaced by the ferry it whisks into the ferry’s sides, splashing against the windows in glittering drops of fresh water. Rainbows flicker in the spray. They flash and disappear, taunting the watcher with their fleeting presence.
Being the first to wake, the birds flock in masses in preparation for the day that’s to come. They gather on the lighthouse. It, too, stands as a guardian and protector, but for seafarers who pray for glassy waters as they travel across Lake Huron to the now visible island: Mackinac.