Sunset Stop

orangerose

Sunset Stop (220 Words)

This–is–your–fault.

The sun was sinking, red and huge in the west. It colored everything in its brilliant glow, the rolling waves crimson and deep blue. The sand was like the sky itself, twinkling golden, silver, to velvet purple. And at the edges of the great welkin twinkled the first evening stars.

“This is your fault.”

Bob glanced at his companion sideways. Arabella sat glaring into the horizon, her pants’ legs rolled up her calves.

“I’m still getting sand out of my boots,” he offered.

Arabella glared. “Your fault.”

Bob shook his head. “Ah now,” he said, “the dragon said all of the way, not half of the way. If a dragon changes its mind, who’s to argue?”

She was not appeased. “It’s still your fault!”

“It’s your fault too!” Bob accused. “You just had to see those silly mermaids this afternoon, didn’t you? Couldn’t wait for a bus?”

Arabella threw a tiny shell at him. “You!”

“You!”

“Gah!”

Arabella buried her face against her knees.

“At least,” she said, “we won’t starve.”

“Oh no, there’s lots of orange trees,” agreed Bob. “And coconut. And banana.”

Arabella drew a line between them on the sand. “This is my side of the island. This is yours.”

Bob sighed.

“Oh don’t worry.” Arabella cracked a smile. “I’ll stop by for orange juice sometimes.”

***

Written in response to Daily Post’s prompt, “Conveyor” and CYW 2018’s prompt, “Sunset Orange.” After all, sunsets convey something, don’t they? Wallie tells me so.

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