One January Morning, Part 4

As his ladies fair stalked across the beach arm in arm, whispering conspiratorially to each other through their tears and their rage, Morgan stooped and then knelt beside the motionless damsel at his feet. He held two fingers to the side of her neck—thinking that was the thing to do, that he’d seen it in a film once—and he was surprised by the sensation of blood pumping just under her cold skin. Cold, he thought, slapping a hand absentmindedly against his still-stinging cheek, then working to remove his pea coat and wrap it around her. And cold he thought again, as he set her tricorne awkwardly atop his head and gathered her freezing form up into his string-bean arms, sea water dripping off of her and down his trunk, his crotch—which, he was embarrassed to note, was not cold at all—and his legs, settling finally on his bare feet.

To be continued…

This month, January 2015, I’m telling a story one paragraph per day, inspired by cards from the Writer Emergency Pack. To read the next paragraph a day early, support me on Patreon.