Writing Prompt 35: Two Caravans
Sea Breeze
I think we can all agree that climate change is real. From wildfires to storms, the world is trying to rebalance. Being a Brit I’m in a constant ‘need to know what the weather will be like’ state of thought. I’m not sure why the British have that stereotype other than we do talk about the weather. A lot. Particularly with strangers.
When looking at this week’s photo, I’m struck by the juxtaposition of seaside caravans - although you can’t see the sea - a flag blowing horizontally (must have been a windy day) and a bleak, grey sky.
What are your thoughts when you look at this picture? Any stories come to mind?
Until next time.
The small blue flag fluttered in the wind. A light in the distance flicked on in the farmhouse. The wind whistled up through the fields unbounded by hills or trees.
In the warmth of the caravan, the radio mumbled in the background. The coastguard was sending out a warning. Dede twisted the dial a little to the right. The signal improved. She turned up the volume.
"The Met Office has released red weather warnings of eighty-mile-an-hour winds on the North Norfolk coast. Do not leave your homes unless absolutely necessary. I repeat. Do not leave your homes."
Dede filled the small kettle with water and lit the gas on the two-burner stove. She placed the kettle on the flame. Music echoed out of the tiny old-fashioned radio, filling the small space of the caravan with the sound of 1940s dancehall music. Dede peered out of the window. The flag flapped and rolled in a frantic manner. In the gap between the two caravans, the wind increased to a howl. Winston wandered up to her and rubbed his nose against her legs. Dede reached down and stroked his ears.
"I guess you need a wee."
She pulled on a heavy raincoat and boots and opened the door. The wind caught it and forced it back from her hand, slapping it against the side of the caravan. Dede shivered in the cold. Winston trotted down the steps, his long retriever hair lifting and rippling in the wind. He cocked his leg against the flag pole before trotting back to Dede.
"Good boy," said Dede. "Let's go back inside."
Dede reached out to the door which was now pinned back by the wind. She tugged at the handle in a desperate attempt to prise it away from the side of the caravan. Something caught her eye and she let the door go. The light from the farmhouse in the distance had gone out.
Story first posted in December 2019 // Photo: Tanya Clarke - Seabreeze campsite, Norfolk 2016
