Flash Fiction Friday

Flash Fiction Friday: Lake Huron

Flash Fiction Friday

Mackinac Island: Lake Huron

The third installment in my Mackinac Island series. See the other parts here.

No matter what direction you look water lies before you. The lake, large and vast, enchants your eyes with a multitude of colors; navy, deep blue, steel blue, grey, aqua, turquoise. All shades of blue. It’s near impossible to decide which one to look upon, to lock onto, to allow to enrapture you further, especially when you discover the lightest of colors. Nearest the shore, where the water’s so clear that the golden sand gleams through, the blue water’s dyed almost green. A pale, gentle green. Aquamarine is the closest you can think of, yet even that isn’t the color of the water. It’s a color all its own.

Following the array of shades your attention drags farther out into the lake where the hue deepens, darkening the waters as the depths vary with the deepest being the strangest color yet: indigo. So subtle, the purple tint is almost indiscriminate. Yet, once seen it gleams brilliantly against the other blues of the watery depths. Deep and shallow and everywhere in between. Each one a distinct section in the water that, even from the shore, you see them differentiate themselves by the way the water moves at different speeds. They reflect the sunlight in different ways causing the path of light to fracture.

No longer a seamless line leading to the distant island, but broken as if a ferry had cut the light into different parts. The sun, too, no longer wants the path to stay. It’s as if it’s angry that you didn’t follow the path, didn’t venture to the distant island that still lies like a sleeping shadow on the horizon. In its ire, the sun continues its ascent. It climbs higher and higher into the sky, dragging the light path with it, dragging it off the water. However, the light path clings to the lake. Just trickles remain, spotting the water nearest you as the path loses strength, loses the fight.

The path isn’t the only thing fighting a battle. A rock, just large enough to break the surface, peaks through the water. It struggles for air. The water splashes over the rock, trying to suck it back under, to reclaim it and return it to the submerged land below. Still, the rock struggles. It fights again and again for the sky as the water washes away to gain strength so that it might try to consume the rock once more.

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