Moonlight-tipped ripples gently rise and fall as the Cassarina makes for port. In her wake the last trawl of the night nears its end. Ashore the village prepares for the spring festival: in homes throughout the narrow, twisting streets of San Quinzetta excited children struggle to sleep, while parents finish weeks of decorating, baking and brewing.
Aboard the Cassarina, clouds of cigar smoke drift skywards from within the glowing wheelhouse. Astern, tensioned lines twitch; the net begins to drag; the engine whines into reverse. Down below a single, luminescent blue tentacle slithers through an open galley porthole.
In the distance the welcoming lights of home twinkle.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.